Last Friday we celebrated C.T.’s B-day.
Our group is compound by three couples with very different backgrounds.
Our group is compound by three couples with very different backgrounds.
My husband who’s from Dominican Republic, C.T.’s husband who’s from Germany, and R.B.’s husband who’s from Switzerland. Me and my girlfriends are the only ones 100% pure Argentineans in the lot.
Every time we get together, I find these new and amazing facts about their lives that surprise me: like when I came across the fact that R.B.’s husband might (or might not) has been a Swiss porn start; his acting career reduced to only one line on the big screen: Aufmerksamkeit (Attention!).
One can only imagine the circumstances when this line was delivered.
Or this other time, when C.T.’s husband was found to have a weakness for Kahlua with berry juice: some story about it being an aphrodisiac for one of his early life girlfriends.
As he explained, the drink transformed the so called girl into this ‘experimental’ person.
With that, I came to the conclusion that: first, he’s really old (thirty five years versus our average twenty eight years calls for a lot more experience; experience equals age), second, he wants to see you wasted (he offers alcoholic drinks like candy; Germans have a lot of resistance to alcohol) and third, when being in a ‘happy’ state, he coughs in your face.
As he explained, the drink transformed the so called girl into this ‘experimental’ person.
With that, I came to the conclusion that: first, he’s really old (thirty five years versus our average twenty eight years calls for a lot more experience; experience equals age), second, he wants to see you wasted (he offers alcoholic drinks like candy; Germans have a lot of resistance to alcohol) and third, when being in a ‘happy’ state, he coughs in your face.
I, on the other hand, get stimulated with diet coke and tap-water.
- Bring on the hard stuff!! – I said, and the waiter kept them coming.
Let me tell you, after seeing me laugh my ass off, everybody wanted to try tap-water straight up.
That’s to show you that you don’t need to get wasted in order to act insane.
That’s to show you that you don’t need to get wasted in order to act insane.
My husband, on the other hand, behaves himself as the Prince he is: elbowing away under the table to every misplaced comment I did under my tap-water stupor, and always complaining about the music of choice by the deaf DJ (mostly dreadful Meringue).
R.B. always sits two miles away from her husband on the table, mostly to talk to him (screaming is more like it) over a sea of people and share dishes over everybody else’s dinner. She never heard about discretion and prudence.
C.B. is pregnant so, she finally has a real excuse not to drink (“I’m the designated driver” was getting old so she decided to get pregnant instead), and of course, we pamper her constantly when we’re together.
The night ended at 10:30 pm: to show that we’re crazy-nighters, party-goers, heavy-drinkers and most importantly, getting old.
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