A Visit from the Germans

Six o’clock Saturday morning found me seated on my bed, eating olives, fresh from another crazy tequila night at Violet and A’s place. Just as I was sliding into some paranoid dream involving robots and spilling olive oil onto my bed, my phone rang and it was Anne, my roommate from Berlin. She is Das Model and she’s in New York eating cocktail weenies with Vince Gallo and Leo DiCaprio. Within hours we met at the Chinatown gate and spent the afternoon sifting for thrift store goods. The great thing about shopping with Germans, is speaking German. You can say things like “look at this disgusting milk cow standing next to us- if she brushes me with her chin hair, I am going to scream”, or openly discuss shoplifting, and no one is the wiser.

Saturday night was a rager. When the bars get out, throngs of the socially diseased litter the sidewalks, still trying to get off with each other. Das Model and I shoved our way like deranged pirate hookers through the human flotsam. Some brazen fellow tried his luck all “hey there, pretty lady’ with Violet and I threw him to the curb. That’s what happens when you start spending lots of time with the Germans. At Violet and A’s house, we watched Brett Anderson being all hot, and then Blixa Bargeld being less hot. We are also trying to sign A on as a new Vomitola correspondent in bitterness, and he seems game, but he would not model any underwear for us.

I am not allowed to discuss the Underwear Scene that Licketysplit and I had at Target until after the court date.

Sad it was, parting with the lovely Anne at midnight in Chinatown. But hopefully I shall return the visit soon, and soggily offering lapdances to Johnny Depp. All for your entertainment of course, vomitoleers!

-xo

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