The long list of R's:
- I puked on my first real date. Can you believe it? A mulatto guitarist w/an afro and a mother who was into penca (is that how you spell it? that meditation technique that makes you look like you have a wild twitch going on down in the finger-region) I was in my santa-clause-look-a-like-periode, sick, had eaten nothing but laxating cough-drops and drunk acidy orange juice all day and then: Mr.Baker student invites me to the theather! My stomach howled and growled, and to add the extra touch we decided to drink cocoa w/coins (of course drinking money would make you shit money!) in the break. Can you believe he actually held my hand in the grand performance "taras colour specatular spectacle - see it through 3d glasses you wont't believe it really can be"?
- What's 22-15? When I was fifteen i got a new boyfriend. Roger lived in Denmark and I had grown tired of my bakerboy never coming home, and therefor decided to fall in love with a 22 y.o. pantomime artist who, just to make things easier, was born on the same date as the baker. It wasn't hard to win my heart at fifteen when you could dance, and made everybody on the dancefloor stop to watch you give your heart to me through the mindboggingly odd exercises performed in electric-boogie in which you are our small-time-cities undisputed champion, but it was a bit hard to swallow that he wanted to decided everything by throwing dice. Was it also tad bit odd that me and my cousin who at the time was 35 had boyfriends the same age?
- I was in love. I went to Africa and cried my love into a dictaphone. We moved in together?! He's neat. Really. Jan Roger was his name. Geez. I dumped and still I ended up coming back until he met a girl with dolphins.
