Monday, June 21, 2010

Reactions to my first reader´s comment

After trying for awhile, I found a way to bring traffic to my blog, one person in concrete… This guy read one of my stories and blacked out. He ended up speechless, delighted. Here is his comment:

This is so unfunny. Hey bub don't quick you day job. You are not a writer. Your presence on is like a tick on an elephant's penis! Thanks for wasting my time you self indulgent boring asshole.

Well, when the first comment to your blog is this, you don’t get to think it will be a success (not a surprise for me) what you get to think is that you suck. And let’s be honest: This blog sucks. Of course I’m not trying to compete with blogs like (it seems like a bad idea put some comments in there leaving my blog’s link to bring here people, they are reading a really funny thing and feel betrayed and pissed when they come and read this one) or Tucker Max or whatever American who happens to write well. If my goal was having success with a blog I probably would write it in Spanish like the scripts and books that I write.

But let’s take a time out here and analyze carefully what this guy, named Anonymous, felt when he wrote this comment, let’s analyze slowly why he used these exactly words and no others. Let’s try to discover the motivations he had to write exactly what he wrote. Let’s start by dividing his comment in parts:

This is so unfunny. Strong start, he clearly wanted to show his discomfort with me and my blog by pointing since the very beginning that he didn’t like it at all. He could say: This is not very funny. But due to his anger against me he preferred to use the word “so” indicating a lot of something, and “unfunny” indicating the opposite of what I try this blog to be (Without much success obviously)

Hey bub don't quick you day job. Okay, I don’t know what “bub” is, and I think I prefer it that way. And I don’t exactly know what he meant with “quick you day job” I think he was looking for something more like: “Do not quit your day job” This second phrase is pretty good advice. He understood that he needed to give me a tip to go along with my life and I found it very interesting (I don’t have a day job though, unless going to school parking lots with my binoculars is considered a day job)

You are not a writer. He continued with an intelligent affirmation. He probably thought I was an American, then he read my sad English and got mad at me, not leaving him another chance but to remind me I am not a writer. When everybody knows real writers are those who leave comments in blogs using the name Anonymous. We all have a lot to learn from this dude

Your presence on is like a tick on an elephant's penis! Well, we can find a lot of anger in this one; he even took the effort of putting an exclamation point. He is clearly pissed off, he probably hit his table with his hand after cleaning it or not when he finished his daily internet porn tour. Describing me as a tick on an elephant’s penis is something I get a lot I must confess. But in this particular situation I think he is right, my blog can’t be compared at the one, in fact, if you are here and you didn’t know about that other blog, just go there and laugh because it is hilarious.

Thanks for wasting my time you self indulgent boring asshole. As a real American, even though he was really angry, he can not help it and he had to be polite at the end, giving me his thanks. Or maybe he is not being polite, maybe this particular person can not get dates (I’ve been there buddy) and for him even though a “self indulgent boring asshole” has wasted his time, he is thankful because his life is so boring and disgraceful that the time seems to not pass by for him (Once again… I’ve been there buddy)

And this is pretty much it; he couldn’t say more with less. I hope this analysis explained more or less what this guy felt after reading my blog.

I referred the whole time to this person as a male, because it is clearly a male. Women don’t release their anger in boring and stupid blogs like this one. They are women, no matter how ugly they are, they always can get a date (Not with you Mr. Anonymous, don’t get anxious, you’ll have to wait your chance, hang in there with the porn until it arrives)

If you think about it carefully though, this is an amazing comment. What would this guy say if he had to pay for reading my blog? He would probably “quick his day job” to look for me and… and… well, I don’t know how Mr. Anonymous work. But he wouldn’t make me anything nice I can assure that. Anyways, I want to thanks this guy, for take the time of reading one of my posts and overall, comment on it. Of course his comment didn’t pass unnoticed for me. These are some reactions to my first reader’s comment:

1/ Get affected by his comment and kill myself dying as a self indulgent boring asshole (Whenever I die I will die as a self indulgent boring asshole anyway)

2/ Stop writing this blog because I’m not a writer and try to work in a Burger King (They were looking for more qualified people, maybe I’ll have better luck in McDonalds)

3/ Change the subject of this blog and instead of writing about stupid things and adding some dumb different options at the end, write about the greatness of birds and cats and how they can even behave as human beings sometimes (Birds&

4/ Cry because people don’t like my blog (Some stupid sand just got into my eye you fucking asshole!)

5/ Look for Mr. Anonymous and ask him for more advice, not for the blog but for life (The one about jerking off with the left hand I already know it bub)

6/ Fire my American cousin and look for a better funnier writer (Are you available Mr. Anonymous?)

7/ Don’t do anything, just keep masturbating while picturing Mr. Anonymous writing his comment very sweaty and angry (I like really fat people yum yum)

8/ Erase Mr. Anonymous’ comment (And miss the only funny thing in this blog?)

9/ Don’t write more posts until Mr. Anonymous apologizes to me (Even I know that I’m the one who should apologize to him, this blog really sucks)

10/ Unbury my nine, go to the States and shoot everybody until I feel like I have killed Mr. Anonymous (Mmmm, just like in college days…)

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Reactions to an old woman illness in a plane

It happened on a long flight, Philadelphia-Madrid I think. Philadelphia, great city, better butter… So, travelling by plane is always the same, you wait in the airport checking out the pretty girls around hoping they get on your plane. Once you know which girls are flying with you, it is just a matter of time before you have to wait again, hoping they sit close to you.

I learned my lesson and I don’t talk or flirt with anybody in the airport. I think it is so frustrating wasting your energy in playing the good and funny guy when then your seat is in the tale section and hers is in the front (Although flirting for me is just staring while touching myself using my pockets to hide and usually girls don’t find me funny or good)

Airports and planes are always full of hot women, everybody knows that, I have travelled maybe more than the average, and I have to say I have never sat near a hot woman on a plane (Well… once I sat by a pretty Canadian but you know, Canadians don’t count) I usually end up with old people or married couples with crying children. In my first trip to NY I sat by a really old woman and her crying little dog in a basket

I hate the window, when I have a window seat I try trading it, of course every time I succeed. Windows seats on planes are like candy at your grandma’s house, you know they are there but they are not always offered to you, and getting them is a great joy. Don’t get me wrong, I like looking out the window, it’s awesome. But between enjoying the beauty of the amazing blue sky and having a free way to the bathroom… I’m sticking with the bathroom. Yes, the toilet beats the sky to me.

In that flight from Philadelphia to Madrid, I was suffering from a crazy allergy, I had more mucus than ever. Without exaggerating I had to blow my nose every five minutes because I couldn’t breathe, the mucus was so stuck in my nose I had to blow really hard. And in Spain blowing your nose is a normal thing to do, but in the States blowing your nose noisily is the grossest thing you can do. So every moment I had to go to the bathroom, and there, in that private spot we all like to use, was where I blew my nose noisily (It was bleeding too, just to picturing it better)

By my side I had an old couple, they were French, they lived in Spain and they spoke English, Spanish and French. They were good people of course, everybody at the planes are good people though, it is like being up in the air makes us better people. I don’t remember what we talked about and I wouldn’t tell if I did.

I was waiting for the little TV to being turned on just thinking how come air hostess are so ugly now a days, going to the bathroom to blow my nose and reading a funny book that made me laugh out loud a couple times making me feel weird. Nobody laughs on planes I guess, when the little TV was turned on I understood the reason why (US Airways needs someone to restock their broadcastings desperately)

When I finished the funny book (I hope they serve beer in hell), watched the only good movie offered (Invention of lying) and the only Curb Your Enthusiasm episode I found, that was it. I didn’t have anything else to do. Most of the people were sleeping, I tried and failed, my nose was giving me a rough time and at one point I just wanted to die. I searched the little TV guide: Sex in the city (The movie) Sex in the city (The TV show, four or five episodes) Sex in the city (The soundtrack) Sex in the city (Behind the scenes) I really started thinking US Airways and Sex in the city were related on this fucking plane.

So, that was my situation: I had finished my book, I had watched the only two things I liked in the little TV, my nose was a mess, mucus and blood making it impossible for me to breathe, I had an old couple sleeping by my side, a family with crying kids were in front of me, some people sleeping were at my back, and of course, in the other row of seats, but near me, were that classic couple living their passionate love in the plane’s darkness. Madrid was two or three hours away yet, my stinky cheap MP3 had run out of battery… It was a tough trip. Travelling alone is like masturbating, you get to the point you wanted, but it isn’t as pleasant as it can be with company.

When I thought anything could be worse, the old woman by my side woke up and started complaining about her tummy. She woke up her husband and told him she was feeling home sick. I got up and let them go to the restroom. After a couple minutes they arrived and she was looking awful, she had diarrhea and nauseas, the stewardess came and started worrying about her situation. She was really angry, she blamed the plane food

She had to wait and endure her pain until the flight was over. So, from this point on, I was in the same situation as I was before, but now with an old woman farting, retching and telling me how awful the plane’s food is. It’s pretty uncomfortable sitting with an old woman suffering and talking about how awful everything is while you almost can’t breathe and have to go to the bathroom every moment while trying to not be rude.

My reaction was to be polite. Pretending not being smelling the flatulence and the vomit, pretending that I was concerned about the old woman’s illness, pretending to be a good person. That’s what I did, and I don’t feel good about it, these are other reactions to an old woman illness on a plane:

1/ Lock myself in the bathroom and make it my own private spot on the plane until we arrived to Madrid ( It almost was, when you go every ten minutes to the bathroom, that bathroom and the aisle behind became in your own home)

2/ Start screaming and cause total chaos (Causing chaos on a plain is one of the things I’ve always dreamed with)

3/ Hug the old lady tight and call her grandma a couple times (At least it would’ve been funny see her reaction to that)

4/ Watch Sex and the city (No, I still prefer the angry, smelly, ill and tedious old lady)

5/ Run away from her, instead of listening to and smelling her, look for another seat where I could stare at the infinity until the flight was over (I live in the country, smelling feces makes me feel at home. I actually enjoyed that)

6/ Instead of listening to her, start telling her all about my life, being the tedious person instead of the patient and kind one (My life story would’ve killed her)

7/ Approach every single passenger and explain to them that I wasn’t on cocaine, that I had an allergy (When you go every ten minutes to the bathroom and you have a runny nose which by the way is bleeding, people start giving you looks)

8/ Take advantage of the situation and shit my pants as if nothing had happened (Yeah, sure… Like if I was the only one who would love to be able to shit on a plane’s seat with nobody noticing it)

9/ Surreptitiously take the seat belt and start hanging her (No lady! I don’t give a fuck if the pasta on the plane is low quality!)

10/ Give her a lap dance (Sadly, another young man beat me to it)

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Reasons why my English is so awful lately

Ok, lately my English has been stinking a lot, and that’s going to keep happening. The explanation is pretty simple, at the beginning I used to write my dumb stuff, sent it to my American cousin, he corrected it and then I published it. You may think we are idiots (I totally concord) But that was we used to do. Don’t forget that he is the one who asked me to write a blog to improve my English and he is very interested in me learning English (I don’t know to whom the fuck I’m talking… nobody is reading this blog)

The thing is that the guy has a live. He must take care about his own stuff. He has a lovely girlfriend, friends, relatives, studies, a professional career, some crimes to hide… He can’t expend his time correcting my nonsense bullshit. I can’t force him to do crazy things, I’m not a Christian anymore. That’s why I decided to start publishing posts without being corrected (This way you’ll be able to check how sad my English skills are for real)

The truth is we are the kind of idiots who write twenty episodes of a TV show nobody is interested in, who write several lame screenplays nobody cares about either, who make competitions between them where the winner is the one who goes to more different countries (expensive competition by the way) We are the kind of idiots who flip out with Goku and Vegeta, who venerate Larry David, who have a love to Bojan that verged on extreme homosexuality and who take advantage from our deaf relatives.

All that just means we are idiots enough to making a blog like this one and in the way we were doing it. Picture two adult people working hard in a blog nobody is reading. So, the point is, for now on, my posts will have this sad literature almost incomprehensible you are reading right now. So, this post’s goal isn’t other than trying to explain why I took these measures and why my writings became so awful in the last days. I don’t know if anyone could buy it. Just in case, these are other reasons why my English is so awful lately:

1/ I’ve been doing a lot of pot this month and my English has just disappeared from my brain (My Spanish too)

2/ I released the slave who was writing everything in this blog (I’ll miss you Toby)

3/ I’m dumber everyday (Dumbest is my goal)

4/ Due to the demolishing success of this acclaimed-for-the-critics blog, my cousin and I have been involved in an ego’s fight which ended in really bad terms (Rest in piece my friend)

5/ I thought my blog would be funnier if nobody understands anything I’m saying (That’s what happened to me with American’s sitcoms)

6/ I just think English must to be reinvented (I’m the Da Vinci of English right now)

7/ My English has been awful since the beginning, I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about here (Just take a look to the early posts… No you won’t!)

8/ I like raping English like Jamaicans do (English, women…whatever)

9/ My cousin was so slow correcting my posts that I just decided firing him (He just didn’t get that I had a public to attend… I have a follower already for God sakes!)

10/ My English hot teacher thought helping me writing a blog where I was humiliating her wasn’t the most honorable thing to keep doing (I really miss her…)

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Reasons why I´m my own blog follower

Yeah, it’s true, I’m my own follower. That makes two followers already (I’m on fire). The truth is I’m awful with computers. I can hardly type my name… But lately I’ve been working in my blog’s merchandising; I made a Facebook account using the blog’s name. I don’t know why exactly I did that, that experience lasted for almost an hour though, I’m not going into Facebook never again in my life. If it was named Assbook, Boobbook or Cuntbook maybe I’d give it a chance, but since is just Facebook I’m letting it go. I explained in other entries why I don’t like social networks. (I’m an unsocial hermit, just to refresh)

But my merchandising didn’t stop there. I made me follower of a lot of other blogs. Of course I’m not reading anyone. I just thought if I made myself their follower they would come to my blog. But it doesn’t work like this, I spent almost an hour of my sadly life becoming in follower of blogs and then I found out it wasn’t worth it. My account’s name doesn’t lead to my blog, I don’t know why, but it doesn’t. So, I wasted an hour of my life and the only thing I obtained, is probably freak out two poor parents who make a blog to show their children’s pictures to their relatives. How would you feel if an unknown makes himself follower of a blog of your children’s pictures (Sorry, but I don’t know how to stop being a follower. PS: Your four year old girl looks fantastic on her new bathing suit)

After that successful move, I don’t know how but I found out that I had became my own follower too (I guess I make myself follower of so many blogs that I made me follower of mine by mistake) I tried to erasing me as a follower, but I don’t know how, so, for now on. I am my own follower. And I have to say, I’m pretty pissed with the treatment, followers need love from their blogger and I’m just getting sex… (Too twist?)

To be honest I kind of enjoy this whole thing of trying to show my stinky blog to the people out there. I don’t know much people who speak English so I can’t tell them about it. And I can’t go to a friend and tell him: Hey I’m writing this blog, read it and show it to your buddies. Because they wouldn’t understand shit, Spaniards don’t speak English, at least the ones who I relate with. The truth is that they freak out when I say that I can speak English, they see me like if I was some kind of genius freak. In the rest of Europe everybody speaks English, but in Spain and Italy we just don’t give a fuck of your language. And the amazing part is that despite of this, we fuck your girls anyways.

I know I said I’m writing this to improve my English, but even though I think I’m learning, since I’m here I want at least some crazy gang from Detroit or Portsmouth reading it. Feels so sad seeing that nobody is coming to this place… Is like when you rape and kill a woman, you go to prison and your friends don’t go to visit you (He had another sister suckers!)

Anyways, if you are reading this is probably because I found the way of make a good merchandising or because you spend weeks reading random blogs. Whatever it is, you must know you are reading a blog of someone who is his own follower. These are reasons why I’m my own blog follower:

1/ I’m the only person who finds me funny and I need support (I don’t find you funny at all sucker)

2/ I made myself follower of every single blog in the world (The Arabic blogs are the best ones with difference, and they are anonymous too, they always hide their faces)

3/ I’m bipolar and the one who is my follower is the idiot in the brackets (Leave me alone bitch! Don’t involve me in this, I’m not following shit)

4/ I wanted two followers in my blog to impress women (It worked, after explaining for hours what a follower and a blog is to my grandma, she looked pretty impressed)

5/ I’m my own follower because I am really and extremely stupid (You definitely are)

6/ In the satanic blog that I’m following they told me that the third step in hell’s search is becoming your own blog follower (At least the third one was way easier and cleaner than the first and the second)

7/ Due to my passion for porn, my computer is full of Trojans and virus, one of them made me my own follower (I have to start jerking off with a condom again)

8/ I’m not my own follower. I just run off of ideas and make up this whole thing to keep padding on (Awful idea then)

9/ The truth is I don’t even know what follower means (I’m just typing what my American cousin is dictating by Skype)

10/ I like following, which is most likely what I do all day. Following people is like the sweetest joy before revenge and getting pussy (Are you serious? You plagiarizing Tupac now?)

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Things uncomfortable for me

I’m under the impression I’m always in uncomfortable situations. Not matter what I do I’m always ending up at weird situations. How should we react when we are uncomfortable? Nobody knows. I personally think the best reaction possible is just being quiet and don’t move hoping it ends. What is an uncomfortable situation for me you may ask? I guess exactly the same than for you. These are things uncomfortable for me:

1/ You are at home watching TV with your parents, everything is normal, you are watching some regular movie just getting sleepy when suddenly, the characters in the screen start kissing, getting naked and making an explicit sexual scene. It won’t last more than a minute or two, but within that period you will wish your instantaneous death (Calm down, this is uncomfortable for average parents too. The discomfort is easier to deal with when is shared)

2/ You are walking at the street with confidence and even cockiness, you see a group of pretty girls and for some reason you think spitting in the floor like a cowboy would make them love you. But you don’t spit well and your spit falls over your clothes and chin too. They watch it and laugh, these seconds you need for disappearing will be the longest ever (I need to train my spitting Damn it!)

3/ You are at the elevator with an unknown, this is uncomfortable by itself. But what do you say about those times for some reason you start laughing, you try stopping but you can’t and even though you try hiding the guffaw you fail and the unknown feels insulted (I can’t use elevators because of that, I think in the weird situation, laugh by myself and get in troubles)

4/ This is very recurrent but common too. You are at the street, you need to pee and you look for an isolated corner and go there. While you are peeing a grandma walks by with her grandchildren. What an awful feeling, is like if the time was stopped (Probably the grandma will criticize you out laud and make you feel even worse)

5/ You are at a familiar thing, there are some kids around. You are sitting at a table with the rest of relatives. One little cousin is playing with you and at some point without realising it because she is only five or whatever, she puts her hand in your genital’s zone. She leans in that particular part of your anatomy, you try to move her away carefully because you don’t want to be rude. You take her hand with yours, when you have your hand over hers and her hand is over your genital’s zone. You raise your head and see her father watching it with an angry gesture (Coldest sweat in history)

6/ You are alone at home, you decide is a good moment for jerking off a little bit. You start pumping on it. You finish, you look up and see a Hail Mary little statue which wasn’t there before and which means your grandaunt who happens to be your neighbour too have just entered, left it there and walked away (Why knocking the door when you are family right?)

7/ You are hanging out with friends, with relatives or in a plane or train with unknowns. Then some mystery force comes from a more mysterious source and with any sexual stimulus you get a boner. A difficult one to hide, you try to focus and make it go away, but it doesn’t go, just stays there making you really uncomfortable (I only know one way to make it go and it isn’t uncomfortable at all)

8/ You go to a public bathroom, you get in a booth but it smells really bad. You try to do your thing but you just can’t because of the smell and dirtiness. You get out the booth, someone was waiting, that someone enters in the booth and gives you a recriminatory look. You take the blame of something you are not responsible for and that sucks (Blame me if I shit in there. Don’t blame me if I’m just a victim like you asshole!)

9/ More public toilets, this is the territory of discomfort for excellence. You go to a bathroom inside the office where someone is working. You seat down on the toilet and start farting very hard while making strength to unload. The worst thing is knowing you’ll have to come out sometime (Work in an office with a toilet where your co-workers go shitting is very uncomfortable too. A good friend of mine was suffering that for a couple years already he didn’t take it very well. I hope he is resting in peace)

10/ You went out for jogging, biking or any else exercise. The thing is that you got very tired, you are sweating a lot, and you can’t even move and talk. Then someone taps your back. It’s some girl you like who you don’t have too confident with yet. She begins a conversation but you’re shaking, sweating and you can’t talk coherently. She ends up going away disgusted by you (Exercising is always an unhealthy thing to do despite what people can say)

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Reactions to a hot girl feeding water to a donkey

A few years ago a friend and I decided to descent a river in an inflatable craft. It was a peaceful river without current. We just thought it would be fun paddling for awhile. Our problem began when we told a cousin that we were descending the river and he wanted joining in. He told us he had his own inflatable craft and he knew the river so we agreed to his request of coming with us. He told us that he was bringing his brother-in-law too and we thought it was okay.

We organized the whole thing and we ended in front of the river with two inflatable crafts. They parked their car in the point where they decided the descent would end and we brought ours to the point they decided the descent would start. We met my cousin’s brother-in-law, he was a peculiar human being with an absentminded attitude, he lived in Holland and he was just visiting his sister or something like that.

The first thing that made us thinking that the descent would be a fiasco was this conversation: (The conversation occurred in Galician but I just translate it for you)

Me: So… Where are your oars dudes?

Cousin: We don’t have oars man

Friend: What?

Cousin: We just have the craft

Me: This river doesn’t have any current How do you expect to descend it?

Cousin: I don’t know man…

Friend: We can’t descend a river with two inflatable crafts and just two oars

Cousin: Calm down guys… I brought a rope

Me: I don’t think hanging yourself is the best option, not a bad one, just not the best right now…

Cousin: We can tie the crafts and take turns for paddling, you paddle for awhile then we get the oars and we paddle…It can be fun

Me: Descend the river tied up?

Cousin: Why not?

Friend: We can try it…

Cousin: Okay dudes… You guys can start going to the shore, we’ll be right there

Me: Where the hell are you going?

Cousin: We need cigarettes man

Me: Cigarettes?

My cousin told us how to get to the shore while they were going to get their fucking cigarettes. It wasn’t a good explanation and we weren’t good understandable people so we had a rough time finding the shore entry. The river is surrounded by forest so it wasn’t easy to walk through carrying with the inflatable raft. We got a little lost and we ended inside a private country estate. Right there we witnessed the most shocking thing in our whole wide lives.

We were in the country, Galician country, there are only old farmers and farm animals in there. We were in a remote lost house inside the forest near a river. In the estate were an old man working his land and near him the hottest girl we’ve ever seen feeding water to a disgusting donkey. She was dressed with bad clothes, she was dirty with mud and she was in a stinky farm but she was gorgeous. We shocked, we stared speechless for awhile, and then the old man saw us and talked to us.

He asked what were we doing in his propriety and we answered him that we were looking for a comfortable shore to get into the river, he told us how to get to one but we were just too impressed with that girl’s beauty. I can’t even describe her, she was twenty or so, thin, really cute face, amazing body… What the fuck was she doing there feeding water to a filthy donkey? (I think that kind of hot girls shouldn’t be aloud to live in isolated farms required by law. The police should take her and drop her in New York, Paris, Rome or London)

We made it to the river, the shore was awful. It was full of undergrowth and we had a rough time getting the craft inside the water and ourselves inside the raft. Once we accomplished that attempt we had to be just floating while waiting for my cousin and his relative. In that moment was when we were able to talk about what we had just seen in that farm a few minutes before for the first time. We couldn’t believe it, we just asked each other one time and another:

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

That conversation was much longer than you can imagine. Then my cousin and his relative appeared in their oarless craft mad at us because they said we were disappeared. It seemed like there were a comfortable and peaceful place to get in the river almost a hundred yards before we did. Then they tied up the craft to ours and we started paddling. It was annoying to paddle for them, but since we agreed to take turns we could handle it. My friend and I didn’t know the river and didn’t know how much we would be descending either.

My cousin and his in-law lied down while they smoked one joint each other and drunk beer. The rope we used to tie up the crafts was like six or seven yards long so my friend and I didn’t realize that we were their slaves at the beginning. We paddled for twenty or more minutes before we started asking them to switch places, but it wasn’t easy putting their craft in front of ours, while we were trying a way’s division of the river appeared, my cousin told us to lead them for one of the ways, but we couldn’t direct the craft and we headed to the other way, the wrong one.

Then my fucking cousin untied the rope and since they were a few yards farther back they could make it to the good way paddling with their hands. While we were going on different directions they laughed and cheered because of their exploit. The way my friend and I where in was too stopped and full of rocks and undergrowth, we burst our craft and we had to paddle very hard. A few minutes later, maybe fifteen minutes the river got better and it converged again. Then we saw them farther ahead from us.

We tried to reach them to give them the oars but we witnessed unbelieving how they were getting out of the river in a little park wit cars and motorbikes parked. We paddled there and we asked what the fuck was going on. My cousin told me that was the end of our descent, that he had parked his car in that place, that we lost the best part of the river, the only one where we wouldn’t have to paddle. All what we did was getting out of the river, waiting for our craft gone flat and get the fuck out of there.

We were mad with my cousin and his freaking lazy brother-in-law. They fucked us well, but if we think about it carefully we would realize that everything was our fault. We didn’t react well when we saw the hottest girl ever, we didn’t even talk to her. Our minds went blank, we reacted badly and our day went awful because of that. These are better reactions to a hot girl feeding water to a donkey:

1/ Talk to her you fucking asshole! (It was too unexpected to do so)

2/ Give her my phone number and my email (Explain to her what a phone number and an email is)

3/ Pet her donkey and gain her sympathies, then if she was able to, start a conversation (It will always be a mystery to me)

4/ Ask her to lead us to the river’s shore, once there ask her to come with us in the inflatable raft, once in the inflatable raft ask her to marry me (My dream has always been getting married with an hermit like myself)

5/ Go to the hospital and get treated my hallucination’s problems (Okay, maybe there wasn’t a girl feeding that donkey but I swear that goblin forced me to burn that bakery)

6/ Tell them that we came from the future, that human race was wiped out in there and our mission was to impregnate every woman in their period (Period of time not menstruation period… or both, whatever)

7/ Buy her to her owner (I don’t think farmer’s girls are too expensive)

8/ Kidnap her (She wouldn’t care I’m sure)

9/ Get involved in a death fight with my friend where the winner would take the girl and the looser the old man farmer (I maybe let my friend win)

10/ Beg to the old man to make me his slave too (We could live a tragic passionate slave’s love story)