Sunday, March 1, 2009

Notes from a Dirty Traveller

Still in Bahrain, but I've relocated to a coffee shop. I was feeling worldly, sitting in Chili's (shutup Chili's is high class), typing on a laptop when I spilled nacho cheese on my shirt. I decided it was best for my ego to make a break from Chili's.

It's hard to be a mysterious international beauty when you're sporting a large grease stain on your blouse. I also just used a hole in the floor as a toilet. Never seen anything like that before, but I'm down to try anything once. Needless to say, I no longer feel like a world class hottie.

It is at dark moments such as this, when feeling like a real shlub, I take solace in the fact that I am not, and never will be Yanni.
Nor Michael Bolton.
Nor Kenny G.
I don't know why I hold these three as the epitome of douchebaggery, but I do. It must be the hair.
Even at my lowest, I'm still better than these rich, adult contempo numb nuts. Their silly faces cheer me up every time.
Suddenly, I'm beautiful again.

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