I’ve missed you. Internet. But in my defense, I kinda forgot all about you.
You see, mom came to visit. And she had one, simple mission. Decorate.
And decorate she did.
I have now the best looking home interior in my village. Also, the average age in my village is 79, so it’s not like they could appreciate its beauty anyway. Lest they break a hip walking up the steep side street into my small palace of home interior beauty and I happen to be there and have to take them inside to resuscitate them until the French paramedics arrive. If they’re not on strike. Also, my cat keeps throwing up on my new living room rug.
Having gathered tiredness of cleaning up, I decided to venture back up to Germany for the week. We spent a wonderful evening last night by the river drinking beers. The skies were clear, temperature warm, company good. Then, we got waaaaaaaaaasted. ‘Cause I’m responsible enough to do that on a school night.
How we ended up at the next bar, I can’t quite remember. They had some of the fasted Foosball tables I’ve played on. I don’t suck at Foosball. I pretty much have the “Scooby Doo” mastered. It’s how I’ve gotten this far. But it’s also the first time I’ve played against Germans. Who also each have a table in their homes. That was humbling.
At one point, one of the guys went to the WC, his spot quickly filled by some female stranger not in our party. Short, white sweater, jeans, hair in a pony-tail, smile to boot, cute as hell. Hungarian. Spoke no English. Also, cute as hell.
And absolutely CRUSHED four pairs of testicles.
At one point, I could’ve sworn I heard her say the words, “Championship League.” Though I can’t be sure. I mean, she was lining up shots, calling angles, doing things with her 5-man I didn’t think were possible with 5 plastic men on a bar. She was blocking, stealing, I. . .I mean her ball-control, her ball control was of Olympic calibre. Our two German friends who each have their own Foos table at home, almost lost 2 of 3 games playing partners against her alone.
Internet, it was the most humbling erotic experience I’ve ever been a victim of. I. . .I can’t tell you how. . .I, I gotta go.
You see, mom came to visit. And she had one, simple mission. Decorate.
And decorate she did.
I have now the best looking home interior in my village. Also, the average age in my village is 79, so it’s not like they could appreciate its beauty anyway. Lest they break a hip walking up the steep side street into my small palace of home interior beauty and I happen to be there and have to take them inside to resuscitate them until the French paramedics arrive. If they’re not on strike. Also, my cat keeps throwing up on my new living room rug.
Having gathered tiredness of cleaning up, I decided to venture back up to Germany for the week. We spent a wonderful evening last night by the river drinking beers. The skies were clear, temperature warm, company good. Then, we got waaaaaaaaaasted. ‘Cause I’m responsible enough to do that on a school night.
How we ended up at the next bar, I can’t quite remember. They had some of the fasted Foosball tables I’ve played on. I don’t suck at Foosball. I pretty much have the “Scooby Doo” mastered. It’s how I’ve gotten this far. But it’s also the first time I’ve played against Germans. Who also each have a table in their homes. That was humbling.
At one point, one of the guys went to the WC, his spot quickly filled by some female stranger not in our party. Short, white sweater, jeans, hair in a pony-tail, smile to boot, cute as hell. Hungarian. Spoke no English. Also, cute as hell.
And absolutely CRUSHED four pairs of testicles.
At one point, I could’ve sworn I heard her say the words, “Championship League.” Though I can’t be sure. I mean, she was lining up shots, calling angles, doing things with her 5-man I didn’t think were possible with 5 plastic men on a bar. She was blocking, stealing, I. . .I mean her ball-control, her ball control was of Olympic calibre. Our two German friends who each have their own Foos table at home, almost lost 2 of 3 games playing partners against her alone.
Internet, it was the most humbling erotic experience I’ve ever been a victim of. I. . .I can’t tell you how. . .I, I gotta go.
