Day Two and Three With My Friend Butch
Because we are intellectuals we go to the museums: they have the best bars and restaurants - the food is eatable, and people fuckable.
As we come we install ourselves in the bar and for the following two hours you can hear us say things like:
- On your left, the most beautiful guy you’ve ever seen!!
- On your right, on your right.. (for those that still have to think what is right what is left) the most beautiful guy you’ve ever seen!
- On your left the most beautiful Ass you have ever seen.
And so it goes for the next couple of hours.
At some point the conscience speaks and the routine is interrupted by: ‘Should we go to see the museum?’ But the other has a ready answer: ‘No reason to hurry.’
After three hours of this joy I became melancholic because our fun number one is to look guys that don’t look at us.
And than, not because these guys don’t look at us but because we are intellectual after all and serious people of age, we take out the camera and pretend to shoot bits of scattered sculptures as we photograph pretty faces and asses. Because we are not some teen kids that just look, now we act – we photograph. And when my friend Butch decides to act, this is how serious he is: camera on a table, whistling and picturing – big nothing.
Basically we spend the whole day making fools of ourselves. And that is serious. Thought probably not as serious as the fact that being foolish is what we consider the basis of our friendship. Believe it or not he once even praised me to a guy I liked saying no girl is as big a fool as me. No wonder I am an eternal single.
In the mean time Butch reports that even from the point of view of the male toilette these men deserve..
Oh, friends – it is so easy to be stupid when you are in a group. At this point Carry Bradshaw, my indisputable idol, would ask herself: ‘Do we need friends to be stupid?’ Yes, Carry we do, but you and your friends.. something tells me you could cope very well even on your own. I am sorry people, but I still bare so much bitterness after the Sex – the move, two hours and half of my life ruined. And as you witness: I have better things to do!
Ratings:
The jury agreed to assign the Mr. Big prize to this guy.. (do I hear applause.. and some groans)
And the special prize for good intentions and obvious effort to our number One! (oh, isn't he as sweet as saccharine?)
Finally it was time to upgrade and we entered the museum to admire two hats and one hand. At least I admired them when I was not feeling like cutting of Butch's head for having taken me to yet another unnecessary museum… but than I came up with a fantastic idea: I took a mirror from my purse and at last found some sense and beauty.
As friends do, we finished our days together shopping - not any shopping but twin shopping. Something only best friends and fools know.
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