Cádiz

It’s the reason I’m not a model, apart from my birthing hips. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpKfpI3SnF4&feature=youtu.be

I. AM. UNCOMFORTABLE. IN. FRONT. OF. CAMERAS.

“and like you know? like… that thing like you know?” 

cripes. Anyway, I’m not looking for a pity party, I just wanted to show you guys some of what came from my showcase the other day. I give you, my youtube debut!

-Quick Aside: I completely forgot how to spell debut. After a few minutes of searching on google, even phonetically, and every silly french way of thinking to spell it, I tried “daybew spelling”. Eventually I found out that it’s spelled “debut”, however all I can think of now is “deh butt.”- You are welcome. I hope you always think of “deh butt” when you spell debut. 

I have a creeper map that shows me where you guys are when you look at my stuff. While I’m flattered, I want to know. Plus, now there’s someone in Australia. Australia???? The only person I know in Australia now is the old tenant for the house, and I don’t even think he’s there yet. So… what gives? 

I’m not kidding about the no kids part. You have to be able to drive, or it’s probs not a good idea to read this. If you decided to not heed my warning, and your mom walks in and starts reading this and asks, “what are you reading?? why are you reading this trash?? who wrote this? cousin Danielle??” I cannot be held responsible, and will not take responsibility after this point. 

But while I was lying around in my bed, being too hot, and then too cold, I remembered I needed to check something online, well… one thing led to another, and here I am on ze blog. I was reading through some of the old posts, and seeing what I promised you, and what I didn’t, but should have done anyway. One thing I now feel I should have included was the rest of the trip to Mallorca. If you need a refresher go here and especially here. Check out some of the other posts from then if you want the full story. 

Honestly, I think I was planning on telling you guys this story, but never got around to that part of the narrative that was our trip to Mallorca. 

*Disclaimer* All names, dates, and some of the events have been changed to protect the identity of all those involved. Just kidding :P I’m not even going to change the names. But this should give you an idea of what kind of story is going to ensue. Not for children under the age of 15. I’m really not kidding. 

So, we left off with a nice story of a nice lad named Peter, and an even nicer bar owner named Trouble. One evening the lasses were on the prowl if you will, looking for a good time, and looking for Trouble, the man and the idea. We wandered our way over to Bollocks to see what was going on. Trouble was there, one of the bar tenders, and the oaf who knocked over the beer tower- we were later informed that the oaf was Trouble’s son. Trouble- never one to turn a bunch of smokin’ hot young girls away from his bar, invited us in for some drinks. I should include that there was a sign that first day, advertising a stripper for female groups. Trouble tried to push the stripper on us, but none of us were really looking to be welcomed into Magalluf with a half naked man throwing his junk in our faces- just not quite the right time.

Well, this time around, one of the girls who wasn’t with us the first day was. We introduced her to Trouble and everyone. Trouble really was a sweetheart and invited us to drink some Cidra and Lager with him and “the lads.” We agreed, partly because Trouble was an old hat and would definitely know where to go in Magalluf for a good time, and partly because cidra is just freaking delicious. So we sit down, start talking, remember how difficult it is to understand him- those Mancunians- and get some backstory on the kid of his. It’s actually quite touching. Trouble was never really around for the kid growing up, and after he bounced around for a while, he came down to Magalluf in an effort to get to know his dear old dad, and frankly, escape England. It’s sunny and there are foxy ladies running around all over the place. It’s like if Vegas and Cancun had a baby but with a strange accent. 

The evening progressed, and Trouble decided whether we liked it or not, we were getting a stripper, except, unbeknownst to us… the in house stripper was Trouble’s son. Awkward? to say the least.

Trouble informed us that the stripper- always “the stripper” never “my son”- needed a lady to gaze at, to focus the raw sexual energy upon, so as to not ruin to mood. That last phrase should have been worded “who do you want to embarrass the most tonight?” or “who needs a cock to the face the worst in the group?” We elected Carl while she was in the toilet because… she was in the toilet, and Trouble knew us three or four better than Carl. It ended up working out… entertainingly. 

I have never been to a strip club before, male or female. I have seen a burlesque show, and while I realize they are different, I feel like there are certain similar themes if you will, one of them being: less is more- at least at first. The allure of what we’re about to see is almost better than actually seeing it. Bluntly: teasing. We all knew something was terribly terribly wrong when the shirt came off so easily and quickly. Boom. off. Before Carl had a moment to react “the stripper’s”- clothed (at this point)- crotch was all up in her face. Dancing and bouncing to the beat of some long forgotten tune. I like to replay the scene in my head with some classy 80’s music. Well, before you could blink your eyes or take a photo properly, the pants were gone. Honestly I have no idea what kind of underwear this guy was wearing. In all reality it doesn’t matter, but it would have been nice for the details, briefs of some sort. Well, as you may have guessed, this was not your average strip show, and as I mentioned before, I’m not aware how they normally work. But I thought it was customary to leave that last layer of whatever on… This belief is only part of the reason this story is so good. You may have seen this coming, but the briefs came off too. Everything was out there, and I do mean, EVERYTHING. I will say this, for it being as warm an evening as it was, I would not have been waving that around as much as the stripper- had I been endowed with… so little. 

Long story short, Carl took a cock to the face. There are photos, somewhere. And after that, Trouble took us around to all the good bars, and we had a lovely debaucherous time. 

where I don’t want to see another photograph… I already put everything in a bin so I don’t have to think about it. AAAAAAAAAAAh well… a little sailing to keep the nerves at bay.