The girl waiting next to me at the bar asks about my t-shirt depicting Michael Jackson as a fetid green zombie, George Michael contemplating park life, and a Mexican wrestler beating his boeskool, and in the ensuing it emerges that I live some of the time in Barcelona, and that she loves Gaudy and the Sangria Familia, how wonderful it must be to live in Spain and learn Spanish customs, orders a pint of cold white Rioja with ice. And with the sexiest man alive drinking just round the corner, and all.
Similar posts
- Fights of nations
“‘Mexico vs. Spain,’ the first scene, shows the rejected Mexican suitor, in a jealous rage, watching the love-making between Carlos, the - Natural enemies of the cochineal insect
Mariquitas can still save the prickly pear. - In a hole
El Diario de Mexico says that, once the six Brits (thanks, Andy) make it out of the Central American cave in - Opinions elsewhere
There’s a good article in LaVa this morning by their man over the pond, Xavier Sala i Martín, in which he - Death row final statements by Hispanic Texans
I was just curious why only the occasional guy has stuff in Spanish, and the FAQs don’t explain. I guess it’s
Immediately granted resident status in Ben Al Muhdeena.