Dancing Queen(s)
Last night Martyn and I went to a night club called Palacio, a little quiet being a Sunday and with a greater majority of the population on their summer break still. But fun none-the less. Mine you, the dance floor was made of glass tiles, and you quite often stuck to the floor. A great description would be the one from Trevor (Martyn´s old flat mate currently living in BA) It looks like the QVB, with access and dancing on all levels. Last night the evening was predominately for gays, but there was a bit of a mix. A few hot men clad in no more than lycra hotpants, and fondling with their apendages to rev the crowd up.
Martyn being tall and blonde stands out like the Obliesk situated in the middle of this fine city and he has lots of little girls chasing him ‘¿Americano?’ they ask hopefully.
Algo mañana, the toilet in our apartment was blocked, this, I would love to blame on Martyn, but unfotunately I must own up to the shame (as I know he´ll be reading and perhaps posting to my BLOG).
While Martyn wandered off to catch up with a friend met on his previous trip, I tried (albeit unsuccessfully) to resolve the problem. No matter what I did the thing would not right itself. While waiting for Martyn to return from his rendevous, I called to talk with Trev about the plans for the evening (mind you the time was 12:30pm at that stage) and here I was talking in depth about the state of the baños.
Scratch, scratch at the threshold and in walks Martyn, but with my back to the door, little did I know he brought his extremely handsome friend, Carlos in with him, how ´Martyn´not to announce the guest! Knowing there could potentially be some ammunition for a great old heckling. Carlos, quiet fluent in english said to Martyn, ´I guess I won´t be able to use the bathroom then´. I should also mention my hair was in Shirley Temple ringlets, in anticipation of a new hair-do I was working on for the evning.
We finíshed up at the club around 5am and started the walk home, knowing that our toilet was still blocked I made sure that I went regularly at the club, but you know regardless of how often you go once the seal is broken, the damage is done.
Wandering back, my desire to go again became unbearable. I had to go! So meandering up what is ófficially´ known as the biggest highway in the world, Avenue 9th July. I nick behind a palm tree, once I dodged the police guards and the homeless people sleeping of course. Mind you Martyn was there too, in all his glory. So I am not the only person of ill repute.
Gladly, after arriving home, and scoffing down empañada´s we gave the plunger another burl, thank goodness, Success!
Martyn being tall and blonde stands out like the Obliesk situated in the middle of this fine city and he has lots of little girls chasing him ‘¿Americano?’ they ask hopefully.
Algo mañana, the toilet in our apartment was blocked, this, I would love to blame on Martyn, but unfotunately I must own up to the shame (as I know he´ll be reading and perhaps posting to my BLOG).
While Martyn wandered off to catch up with a friend met on his previous trip, I tried (albeit unsuccessfully) to resolve the problem. No matter what I did the thing would not right itself. While waiting for Martyn to return from his rendevous, I called to talk with Trev about the plans for the evening (mind you the time was 12:30pm at that stage) and here I was talking in depth about the state of the baños.
Scratch, scratch at the threshold and in walks Martyn, but with my back to the door, little did I know he brought his extremely handsome friend, Carlos in with him, how ´Martyn´not to announce the guest! Knowing there could potentially be some ammunition for a great old heckling. Carlos, quiet fluent in english said to Martyn, ´I guess I won´t be able to use the bathroom then´. I should also mention my hair was in Shirley Temple ringlets, in anticipation of a new hair-do I was working on for the evning.
We finíshed up at the club around 5am and started the walk home, knowing that our toilet was still blocked I made sure that I went regularly at the club, but you know regardless of how often you go once the seal is broken, the damage is done.
Wandering back, my desire to go again became unbearable. I had to go! So meandering up what is ófficially´ known as the biggest highway in the world, Avenue 9th July. I nick behind a palm tree, once I dodged the police guards and the homeless people sleeping of course. Mind you Martyn was there too, in all his glory. So I am not the only person of ill repute.
Gladly, after arriving home, and scoffing down empañada´s we gave the plunger another burl, thank goodness, Success!
posted by trudy.p at 3:10 pm
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