Punky Brewsters fine, she just wears baggy clothes

Moving to Los Palos Grandes was just the beginning of an early August adventure. Not for any particular reason was it weird, it just all added up. Mid week I made lunch for a friend (because my new location easily permits me to do that sort of thing), only to find out cooking for a Venezuelan guy is a no-no unless you are incredibly interested in him. My boss, after cutting some fat at the office, threw many of his coaches a feast on Wednesday complete with a wide assortment of international cheeses, spanish peppers, chilean wine and a view from the top of the city. By Friday, Dan was long gone back to Chicago for the weekend getting me some lifesaver mints and toothbrushes. We were forced to actually go out and find nightlife instead of sitting at Dan's place chillin' and it got a little crazy. I found myself on the streets of Sabana Grande in a 2 door hatch back with 7 people. Arriving at Cordon Blue we found our friends on the red velvet couches. I point out "my type" to Guillermina as he walks by, and her remarkably fast response time arranges for our meeting that was quickly interrupted by Baros (lunch no-no) telling the new guy that "she's with me." Wow, did he really say that... twice? Is it true what they say about Venezuelans? In less than 24 hours time I made plans to go to the beach with a Vene, had to cancel for my own sanities sake and a piece of mind, went with the other Vene instead, found out that "my type" wasn't really my type at all, climbed el avila with the first Vene and called it a weekend. I realize I can be a bad person when it comes to this type of thing, but these guys are really something else... I feel I'm helping them gain experiences, even bad experiences can be learned from, in fact they are probably the most poignant and important ones.


T-SHIRT graphics of the day: white on bright pink tank- "WHAT THE PROS ARE ROCKIN" evenly ripped white tank over the top