Lets dance...
So, tonight is Liviers birthday. One of Melina "bestest" friends, and she decided to celebrate it in the Bebotero an dance O.o I tried to explain them, to warn them about the upcoming failure for her wishes... that place is no t a place to dance, its a place to listen to rock music. Maybe move a little in your place... heck! it gets so crowded so sometimes is hard to breath! But, as always they insist so hard that we end up going. It's funny, their b-day are really importand days for them, and they always try sooo hard to have a good time and force everybody to smile and be happy that it gets weird.
... But I was with Melina, so it was O.k ^-^
Or at least I thought so. My tummy was not thaaaaaaaat happy with me. After we ate some dinner (and by some I really mean some, because I couldt finish the frigging dish... a warning from my body perhaps?), my stomach began to make weird noises and the urge to poop emerged from my bowels. Uh-ohh.
“This might be a problem” I thought… but as usually I paid little attention to that little voice inside my head and decided to go anyways because I wanted to spent some time with Melina (man… my conscious is seriously gonna leave soon).
We arrived to the Place just it time to relieve myself in the bathroom… waiting in the line was one of the most painful things I did today… phew… Inside we spent some time just sitting and chatting until the dancing began. We really tried to dance… or at least I did, but the music just wasn’t meant for that, and as if the DJ was trying to stop us from polluting the vibes with our dance moves, he kept playing soft rock most of the time. But we danced…
Funny how you can dance almost to everything. I love being Mexican. I am sure that’s one of our treats: “dancing +20”.
After a couple of hours my tummy was not feeling good at all, the bathroom wasn’t in any condition to be used and I was having a really hard time to keep all the… hmmm.. “gasses” inside my body, so I decided it was time for me to leave the party.
… I felt bad for Melina, she got sad because I was leaving, but I prefer a sad girlfriend than a crapped pair of jeans in a crowded bar.
Hmmm… if I ever write a book with quotes of my creation that would be one: “I prefer a sad girlfriend than a crapped pair of jeans in a crowded bar”
I couldn’t be truer.
