Latin Lover

So apparently, I should definitely visit South America.

Why, you ask?

Because Latin American males LOVE me.

LOVE. ME.

There's just no denying that fact.

I could be because I have a big ass, it could be because I have red hair. But all those aside, they want ME.

So. I get a call tonight from a couchsurfer I met last week. Yes. We met up last week, went to Bond University and had a few drinks (okay several) and then we went out separate ways. Sort of. Let's just say, I left and he grumbled.

Out of the blue, he called me tonight to meet him up in Surfers. Did I comply? Yes. HELL YES. I'm bored out of my mind here, anything stimulating is a plus. Ok?

So. I get ready, walk myself to the bus stop where I wait. And wait and wait.

Meanwhile, while I'm...waiting for the bus, a car drives by and throws something at me. Srsly. Scared the heck out of me, but luckily didn't hit me. So I stand up to see what exactly they threw and it was....an Egg.

AN EGG. Who does that?!?

I was pretty pissed off, needless to say. And also majorly annoyed with this town. I didn't realize we were back in high school.

This made me revert back to a memory of mine. That happened oh so long ago.

I was in high school, yes you guessed it. And I had sort of dated this guy that kind of, sort of blew me off. So my friend Dax and I decided to get revenge. Oh, poor Dax. I put that guy through so much.

Anyway, we drove over to the Gate gas station and bought some eggs at 2am -- we had just gotten done going to a club near this guy's house. As we were buying the eggs, the cashier tells us, "Ya know, those eggs are rotten."

We both said at the same time, "Even better."

As we drove around the complex of this guy's apartment, I couldn't find his car. So, we're scrambling around trying to figure out where else we can egg something of his. As we're thinking about it, he drives up, gets out of his car and walks into his place.

PERFECTO! So Dax slowly, with headlights in the off position, drives his truck by this guy's car while I pathetically throw the 'rotten' eggs around his car.

You guys. I didn't even hit the target. I missed it completely.

You know in the morning he came out to his car was like, wtf. Did someone drop their eggs while coming into their apartment?

Yeah. That was me. I dropped the eggs rather than threw them.

Okay. Back to the story. So. I go meet him (Cesar, Mr. Latin Couchsurfing Lover) at Waxy's, an Irish bar on the "strip" and meet his friend Aldofo. Who, apparently, is someone I should know. He's a travel agent for Peru. He loves to talk Peru vs. America vs. Australia and promised me that if I visit him, he'll hook me up with everything.

Done.

Anyway. We have a couple of beers there, end up going to Melba's -- the local club -- to find out it's dead. DEAD. Moving on, we went to a place called Drink. Srsly. It's called Drink.

So we went up 14 flights of stairs to get to this place to find out, it's way better than Melba's tonight. We drink a few more beers, dance a little then call it "a night."

Both the guys get pizza -- I'm not allowed to, based on how much I've gained here -- and we walk FOREVER to get to Cesar's car. My ankle started to act up at this point.

Anyway.

At this point, I'm ready to get home to write this post and Cesar's a little on the drunk side. He tells me he needs a little rest and I say absolutely not. Hah. I'm hardcore, ladies and gent. When I want to go home -- I want to go home. Ok?

He's convinced and drives down the Gold Coast HWY like a Grandma. BUT. We did listen to Rigatoni -- the type of music we heard in Nicaragua. It was AWESOME. He stops the car in front of the McDonald's on the corner (What? I don't want him to know where I live) and proceeds to tell me how much he wants me.

He wants me in front of the McDonald's? I think not sir.

So. I get the H out of his car, tell him I'll see him tomorrow all the while he's trying to grab me to keep me in his car (aggressive mofos aren't they?). But I escape and walk my ass home.

I'm kind of dreading to see him tomorrow, but it's the same thing as last week's extravaganza. Bond University at Don's. Too Much Fun. Count. Me. In.

So. Latin men, watch out -- I'm visiting your country next. I need to find me a husband!