Hello Cruel World,
I write to you from the frosty city of Toronto. I’ve just spent twenty US dollars on beer at a bar here at the airport where I have a layover. In, like, an hour I’ll board a plane for a 12 hour flight to the eighty degrees of lovely Buenos Aires. Oh lawd. Give me strength to survive this flight. I didn’t know that planes could fly for a whole day without stopping. Apparently they can. Or, I guess we will find out soon enough. So I was enamored with the duty free shops here where they sell abundant selections of colognes that caught my fancy and tickled it like a little dirty dirt devil. So I go to test out the colognes. Picture Jah-mez, walking into the duty free shop, acting all cool and frequent-traveler unaware-like. He picks up a nice looking bottle of cologne shaped in the form of a man’s bodice. He then shoots the cologne directly into his face on accident, showering his eyes, nose, rosy cheeks, and supple lip region with acidic stud juice. Yumm. I can still taste it.
There’s not much else I have to report to you, sitting here, awaiting the boarding of my 12 hour ride of death. I tried very unsuccessfully to attract the attention of two blatant homos who were sipping away at some florescent fag drinks in martini glasses with salt on the rim. The one had a robin’s egg blue polo with popped collar underneath a sweater. Hmmmm. The ironic and sadistic resurfacing of my crucible of a highschool’s prep-obsession reestablishing itself as a fag compass. I chuckled to myself a little in my Canadian beer induced state. I walked by them multiple times, scrunching my eyebrows in what in my sick little head looks like a seductive, brooding expression, but in actuality looks like I just pooped myself a little and don’t quite know what to do about it. What a futile existence I live.
Anyways, BA in like, 13 hours, CAN’T WAIT! I’ll be sure to write when I arrive and let you know how hot and sexy it is there. And how many hairy moles Mama has. I know your clits are tingling with excitement.