Given the recent events at Calderon between Madrid and Barcelona, Bourbon decided it proper to investigate how Bolton's Bitches could host Barcelona and turn them into a bunch of yellow card collectors. Bourbon does not claim to be a soccer expert, so he's going to stick to what he knows: anthropology.
4-2? That's funny.
Anyway.
North Carolina is a strange state. Let's get that out right away. Nestled somewhere between Virginia and South Carolina, this state full of criminally accused high school cheaters and basketball coaches with eye-charts for last names must also attract free-thinkers when it comes to relationships. Bourbon's recent anthropological research trip to the Catalanian capital proved this to be so. It seems that wherever Bourbon rolls, especially when joined with Bourbon-Brothers, humanity shines. Bourbon met with various Americans taking in the scenery in the basement room of a pinxos bar near Las Ramblas, and these Americans being American decided the non-smoking section to be best, because as we all know, only cool kids don't smoke. And other Americans. Good place to go when touring. In any case, Bourbon sacked up and sat down. Introduced to 6 new Americans, Bourbon promptly forgets all their names. Remember, Bourbon is an anthropological researcher, not a fucking journalist. Apparently Brother Elijah is neither.
Regardless of name, each American proved themself to be entertaining. Eventually. Initial conversation revolved around "gross-sounding" words like "moist," which apparently made one of the Americans, yes nameless, unhappy, even disgusted. "Moist" reminds Bourbon of a variety of things both gross and nice. Phonetically, Bourbon is probably neutral; in fact, as Bourbon thinks about it, most words are phonetically neutral. Except for maybe the fart sound, because that might be gross, but not a word, so therefore probably outside the realm of the above table-discussion. Fart, though, might be a "gross-sounding" word, but is that because of phonetics or denotation? Bored yet? Bourbon was! Let's move on to the drinking.
Beer came later and for some more than others. Another of the Americans began to drink with great dedication to her craft and revealed herself to be an undercover smoker. Bourbon smirks. You'll realize later.
After a joint decision between the Bourbon-Brothers, a plan was set in motion, a short one and a cold one in every bar until one met muster. One did. The Undercover Smoker met her maker. Declaring she had a "ghetto booty" which "liked to be smacked," Undercover Smoker proved her intoxication and intentions. Bourbon forgot to mention that Undercover Smoker seemed to have a boyfriend in tow, we'll call him Spineless Bitch. Spineless Bitch was unhappy with Undercover Smoker's recent not-so-under-the-covers smoking habit or choice of conversation topics with Bourbon. Spineless Bitch proceeded to be spineless and bitchy in the corner of the bar, while Undercover Smoker ceased to be undercover but not smoking. Strange relationship, no? Norfolk should move to North Carolina.
Bourbon is weary from relating this story and this post will conclude here, but not before one last choice quotation from Undercover Smoker: her exit line Bourbon will steal, "I want to fuck you; you don't want to fuck me. I'm out of here."
Could be continued...
3 comments:
Sounds like a pushy broad... but then again, most broads are.
Did she go to Richmond?
One would have thought! She had heard of Richmond, but that's about as close as she got, Bourbon found. Given her "ghetto booty," it's a shame too, perhaps she could have joined the vaunted Spider cheerleading squad and added even more pocket-cash to the group.
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