I heard from Mitch that you'd feel like you could write a novel about Shanghai the first time you saw her; a short story after a month; a sentence after a year...In a way, it's true.
I don't know what to write about Shanghai, completely speechless, after just one month.
I hung out with a bunch of expats the other night, eating Japanese.
Malaysians in finance and tech; Brits in media; a big time Hollywood producer in flip-flops; some Singaborean girls in Cartiers and Pradas, faces powdered with ground Dollars.
Seemed like I was the only "non-drinker" at the table, and the only bachelor boy.
Few rounds of sake later, the totally blinged-out Singaboreans were all over me, rubbing their pussies on my thigh.
They thought I was a professional cyclist with a battered groin.
After the Olympics, we "athletes" get all the fun and cunts.
But I was all blase.
Been there; done that.
I was thinking of someone else, far far away.
1 comments:
They thought I was a professional cyclist with a battered groin
uhmm.. why ah? were u like in your sexy tight cycling outfit clenching your groin all evening? *laughs naughtily*
Post a Comment