The Boy in Vienna

Before you get started, no, I am not turning into a pedophile. Or a thirty-something spinster with an overbearing mothering syndrome.

And no, the boy I took a fancy on wasn't this cute adorable Italian kid (who started out as a silent train co-passenger, but two hours later, was pulling my hair as if I were a head of brocolli). I just posted his pic because he's a charming thing.

The "boy" happened to be the twenty-year old son of my mother's Pinay friend who stays in Vienna.
He was tall, spoke sexy German, had dark curly locks on his crown. Had biceps the size of which were illegal for his age. Shy. And oh-my-fancy-pants, soooo young. Young-ER! Damn.

He called me Ate.

After that, nothing was the same anymore.

The Guy in Paris

Alright, I don't really remember how everything happened (because Europe happened in just three weeks, three years ago, and mom and I just spent under 48 hours in France), but let's say, it was right after we visited the Notre Dame cathedral. Mom and I had nowhere else to go after going to the base of the overcrowded overrated Eiffel, and the Champs Elysees. So we went this little English rose garden somewhere in the area, and I saw this handsome male specimen reading (such a turn on - he reads!) an art history book (okay I made it up). I wasn't my brave self that day, so I just pretended to be checking my camera and clicked a shot in his direction. But I could have said, "Monsieur, volez vouz (... ay, pwde English na lang?) Bonjour. Do you come here often?"

Duh.

But then he could have answered, "Oh, of course, Mademoisselle. I am a locale... I surmise you are still Mademoiselle with your pretty face and gorgeous body."

"Oui, cest moi une, solo, singulare. Available (wink wink)." The last one said with a French accent.

"Ah, then you are in luck. I am une as well. Maybe we could be au pair?"

Oui! Oui!

Of course, these are just figments of my hyber caffeineted imaginacion. Back to reality.

TOP TEN THINGS To Say To...

1> Old Boyfriend, now married to prat: "You deserve each other."

2> My two lovely underlings: "I dread the day I'd f*ck it up big time."

3> Dean Alfar: "What do I have to do to make you publish me?!"

4> My excess 60 pounds: "Here's a one-way ticket into the next solar system."

5> Mom, Dad: "I love you. May I please be exempt from washing the dishes?"

6> AD: "Break up with TC. He doesn't deserve you."

7> JK Rowling: "You'd better make Book Seven amazing, or else..."

8> My boss: "Can you move the planning conference, to like, the next millenium?"

9> JK Rowling: "So, does anyone die in Book Seven?"

10> Future Husband: "Brad, you don't have to match the color of my hair."

Breathe in, breathe out ...

(Kish ka kish! Lightning! Kish kish ka kish! Thunder!)

I'm alive!!!!!!!!


Yun lang.