Hi, my name is Vanessa, not Linda*, and I am not your mother.
I would like to say naice to meet you, but we have not really met in the 2.5 seconds it took me to pass you on my bike.
My friendly smile and "Hola" was a greeting, it was not meant to start the lip puckering, smouldering, sly look you just gave me.
Really? You think I am bonita (beautiful)? I am flushed, dripping sweat, covered in mud speckles and sporting a dusty mustache... I don´t always look this fine.
Could I just interrupt you before you profess your undying passion for my beauty, you have the wrong girl, my name is not Linda*.
Yes I can hear your whistles, hisses and lip smacking from across the road, in the apartment building, 2 feet behind me, and across the field. Is this communication meant to inspire me to jump off my bicycle and into your arms? Or do you just want me to look your way? Whatever your intention, I think for your sake I will just smile and keep on pedalling - Canada is very cold and my heart is already occupied.
My only advice to you if you want to snag a good Canadian girl is to tone it down a bit and take a pointer or two from the quiet, chiquita-respecting hottie beside you.
Sincerly,
Vanessa, Canadian Tourista
*Linda is Spanish for pretty.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Haha, boys everywhere! all the same!
I have heard that there is a shortage of glass's in Cuba!
Who knew? ;)
Sounds crazy on that dance floor! I'm guessing that's where this smooth cubian was hitting on you linda..... he,he.....
that uncle is a meany, eh!
love mom :)
Post a Comment