dating in paris
Welcome to your post-modern condition.
We’re hung over, my jaw hurts from being sucker punched in the face last night and kate can’t get the chaulky taste of prescription pills (not prescribed to her ahem) out of her throat.Speaking of chaulky, kate was walking down the Boulevard St. Germain last night while I was in class and was bohemethly hit upon by Choky, the parisian/arab man with a leather jacket and some mangled dentistry. He asked if he could give her a compliment. She stepped on his groin (aka ego), grinded her heel and said,
- kate: “ok?”.
- Chocky: “My compliment is that you are le beautiful…I would like to le take you for un café”.
- kate: “Umm…no”.
- Chocky: “But I want le nothing else from you”.
- kate: “Ummm…le no”
At this point, kate endured 15 more minutes of teeth-pulling conversation with topics ranging from american politics to the strength of the euro… all of his advances were responded to by “ummm-no’s”. kate, running late to meet Neo (more on that later) told the guy her name was Trinity and that she had to go.
Before she broke his balls and parted, kate gluttonously decided to stroke (your mom) her own ego and allowed him to write an elizabethan sonnet on her arm (see below)
in case you didnt know, french cell phone numbers start in an 06. apparently they also end in a 69. his mangled dentistry didn’t prove to really be an issue, though. you don’t really look at someone’s face when they’re going down on you.
so kate met cannon at school later that day. in typical badass fashion, they drove off through the princess diana tunnel of death back to cannon’s place on his motorcycle…leather jackets and guns blazing matrix style. only pussies take the red pill…guess he wasn’t the only one without a prescription.
love,
kate and cannon
