Chico has made an interesting suggestion for the blog. I should give him the spotlight and tell everyone about his misadventures. To save myself some time, I have decided to simply use his own words. So, my dear readers, I give you Chico, in the words of Chico:
“. . . you can talk about the time I had to sleep in the ritz, cause I got kicked out of my house by my parents. I’ll never forget their faces when they saw the used Rolls Roice i bought with my lunch money….man I got a beating for that one..when they asked me what I did with all the cristal and caviar my penthouse maids put in lunch box before I left for school in the chopper…And I told them i broke the piggy bank for lunch money insead……dang boy! I will never try that one again! sleeping at the ritz under those egyptian cotton sheets gave me the chills, not to mention i got a rash from the silk undies!!! crazy loonies.”
5 responses to “Starring Chico . . .”
you can also tell them about the time you puked in my car eric, a brand new 1993 electric blue Jaguar i bought to go grocery shopping. (para ir de compras vamos)….I’ll never foreget that one, I had to trade in the car for another one and they didn’t have the same color @ the dealer….i was livid. Remember that one? they did give me an upgrade to a austin martin though remember? that night we lost the car in the parking…we were so drunk we forgot what floor we had parked on….we took a limo homw instead. Wow, i wonder what ever happened to that car…
What about the time you had shaken Ayman’s hand so many times at Sesto Senso that the keys to your Harrier fell out of your pocket and we had to charter a helicopter to St. Andrew’s Airforce base to fly us back with a military mechanic to pick the lock? We were so bummed when the guy refused and we had to borrow Ziad’s Ferrari. I hated people thinking we were so poor that the only way we could get around was in an autombile.
Speaking of Harriers, Manolo and I are going to Formentera and there’s not enough room for the “beaches” in the Harrier. Plus, Harriers are so 90s! If it wasn’t such a small Island I would have refused. Come on, we’re not in college any more. A little pride and self-respect.
totaly Eric, I hear you. I’m done being spoon fed albino russian sturgeon and bathing in white truffle oil from Umbria, Italy. I’m sweeping those memories under my 3,000 B.C persian rug I have to clean the toilet with. It’s time to grow up. Rather than going to Formentera, why don’y you guys come with me to Mars, I hear they got some realy nice golf courses there. hell, you might even get lucky with those ladies from Venus bathed in glod dust…and they are pretty good basketball players i hear.
Word. I am so over Planet Earth. It’s been done a hundred times over.
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