I’m not actually banging Barcelona, I just thought that title was catchy.
It’s 10:30pm and I’m sitting in my hostel cloaked in my Bad Ass P Jamma Jams (pajamas). I feel like I should be out clubbing or something.
I’m sitting alone in my six person dorm room. I feel like such a loser. Everyone is out having fun except me.
While I sit here, I make myself productive by gently caressing the whiskers sprouting above the upper corners of my lip. Does everyone do that? I’m assessing whether or not they are long enough to pluck, and if so, am I productive enough to actually get up and pluck them?
Video blogs are so weird. That’s not actually me talking, is it? I like to think myself cooler than that.
Why do I come off sounding so freaking innocent?!! God do I sound like that in real life? No, no it can’t be. I’m cool, I’m hip. I’m that connecticut gangsta chic rocking out in her bad ass P Jamma Jams.
A woman a few weeks ago told me that I focus intently on whomever I’m conversing with.
“It’s like you make that person feel like they are your one and only world.”
And than she went on to tell me that I’m an old soul, pure and innocent. Untainted.
I swear on my grandparents graves (all four plus the Greats!) that I’m not making any of this up.
We met along the Camino a few times, had a few beers, a few laughs. I gave her husband such good advice that he announced to everyone, “I’ve been on the Camino for a while now, but the lesson this girl just taught me surpasses anything I learned so far.”
His wife nodded her head in agreement because she feels I am an old wise soul and anything I say should be heeded.
And after having that conversation, I proceeded to drink a gallon of beer, smoke weed and puke in a sink.
I just plucked my whiskers. Ahh, shit feels good.
It is now 11pm and I’m sitting alone in my dorm plucking the hairs on my face.
This makes it a full day. Yes, one for the books!
Barcelona is big. Much bigger than Madrid. This is according to me, so don’t put much stock. But it really does feel on par with New York style big.
The beach was mobbed. Mobbed! I’m never going back. So many skateboarders, rollerbladers, bicyclists, kids on trikes, kids kicking around balls, throwing Frisbees..etc, etc. A girl can get rammed on all sides, including up if you count bird shit. The title is banging Barcelona, while in fact, Barcelona is banging me around.
I will pass, thanks. I seen the beach before and it gave me sun poisoning on my face. My face!
What is everyone’s fascination with the beach anyway? Isn’t it supposed to be calming? My own fascination ceases to exist once the mob of oily sunbathers enters into my sunlight. My sunglasses get streaked in tanning lotion just by looking at them. Just by looking! Not that I look…
Chill people, it’s just water.
Here’s a video.