by ·6 Comments

Heard last evening, on the topic of male g-strings:

FdM: “I could never wear a g-string.”

N: “How would you know if you’ve never tried?”

FdM: “Look, I can’t even stand to wear flip-flops.”

I wish I could say that’s the weirdest thing I heard that night.

by ·Comments Off on Too cool for shoes

You know…

Breezing past some über-snooty Parisian nightclub’s door personnel, wearing your most casual Summer pants and flip-flops, may be the epitome of scenestery cool.

But is sure as fuck doesn’t make it any easier to dance in them.

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In five minutes, I’m heading south, way out in the French wilderness, far from civilization and high-speed internet access.

Do you know how many years it’s been since I spent 48 hours without Internet access? Neither do I.

See you at the end of the week.

by ·3 Comments

I take that back.

Hell, is a small but noisy rodent seemingly stuck between your bedroom ceiling and the neighbour’s floor, scuttling around aimlessly at 3am, only stopping every ten minutes to gnaw on stuff.

That critter is single-handedly squandering any tiny amount of goodwill Walt Disney may have ever earned his species.

You, my friend, have picked the wrong neighbour to fuck with. I’ve dealt with more resilient than you before.

by ·2 Comments

Sartres says “others”.

I say: “others, checking out sales at a major Parisian department stores on a hot Summer day”.

On the other hand, that satin-lined tux is so gonna get me envious looks from every last pimp in the neighbourhood.

Yes folks, satin-lined.

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And before I permanently close this exciting chapter of my life, I would just like to add…

[clears throat]

YYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrgg

Thanks.

Moving on.