I saw a rotund gentlemen earlier sporting a shirt that read, in enormous print, "LIVE FROM RIO" and loved everything about it. I'm thinking a "LIVE FROM SEATTLE" shirt is an order.
In other news, it's storming in BA (rain, lightening y thunder) and I just got smooched by a guatemalan, sneak attack style. The look on my face was probably something similar to that of a surprised woodland animal and it's also probably safe to say he's not interested in another seduction attempt. That's fine Yamil, we'll be friendski's from here on out as initially planned.
In even more news, the lurkster who spoke neither English or Espanol is actually a snobby brit ('Scuse me, Welsh. He'd have my left hand for that mistake if he were here...) who just didn't want to talk to Laura! HA! Or he has Asperger's, potato/potaato. The ice was broken this evening via a Brazialian and the aforementioned Hhhhhuatemalan, who are his roommates. AKA he was forced to talk with us because they were. GOTCHA MR. BEAN! Sucker. He's a weird guy, ladies and gentlemen, and we are fans of his. His neck beard means business and he was wearing a Thundercats t-shirt because he thought it crossed cultural boundaries pretty successfully. It's been a pretty good night at Pangea Hostel, which semi-makes up for how lame it was last noche.
The only downside came when Laura and I tried to cook a gourmet meal of macaroni and cheese con asparagus and were seriously bothered by a creepy French couple. They were boring, mute, annoyingly up in our biz and did nothing to help when we accidentally broke a shelf in the fridge sending an open canister of tomato puree and a bunch of salad flying all over the floor. Laura practically had to lick up the mess, as there were no cleaning apparati. You need to represent your country, frenchi's, and the cool onlooker position hasn't been popular for the past 500 years. Get yourselves together.
Ahhhh, on that note, I'm going to brush my L'American teeth.