"boludo..." dice el cynical plasticstoner, "¿donde es mi carro?"
So, I started my driving lessons today and the first thing that the driving instructor did was try to sell me a driving license. It was about as un-instructive a lesson as you could get - I think we spent most of the time talking about women. Every now and then, the instructor would tell me, in a more or less even tone of voice, to change gear or to remember to stay on the right hand-side of the road. Occasionally, he got a little excited, like when I hit that pedestrian, but otherwise he was a pretty chilled out kinda guy...
I'm going out into the avenidas tomorrow. Usually, having made such a statement, I'd attempt to illustrate it by means of some kind of analogy, probably one that humourously juxtaposes the image of some small, fragile, mildly retarded thing with that of other, large & insane things as the former attempts to negotiate the territory of the latter. However, I'm feeling a little slow upstairs today & I just ate a hotdog that's trying it's very best to get back out again, so that sort of malarkey's going to have to happen some other time.
It was my 26th birthday last Friday & I got well & truly sozzled in the company of fine friends. We ended up at the Yacht y Golf Club del Asunción, dancing to cheesy techno until about 3 or 4am. Australian Dave ended up going off in the wee hours with a couple of chochis. (That's Castillian for "slappers", for the unenlightened.) Poor bastard'll never get rid of 'em - when they looked at him, you could just see the words "Meal" and "Ticket" light up in Spanish behind their eyes...
When we went into the club, I started chatting to one of the bouncers about his tattoos & he went off and got me the card of the guy that inked his sleeves. When I told him that I wanted to get the words "Tu Nombre" tattooed on my butt, he failed to see the joke. Frankly, the thought of walking up to someone and saying "¡Mira, boludo, tengo 'Tu Nombre' en mi culo!" just totally fucking cracks me up. I mean, it's hilarious in English. I guess it just kinda loses something in the translation...
God, I'm so fuckin' immature.
I'm going out into the avenidas tomorrow. Usually, having made such a statement, I'd attempt to illustrate it by means of some kind of analogy, probably one that humourously juxtaposes the image of some small, fragile, mildly retarded thing with that of other, large & insane things as the former attempts to negotiate the territory of the latter. However, I'm feeling a little slow upstairs today & I just ate a hotdog that's trying it's very best to get back out again, so that sort of malarkey's going to have to happen some other time.
It was my 26th birthday last Friday & I got well & truly sozzled in the company of fine friends. We ended up at the Yacht y Golf Club del Asunción, dancing to cheesy techno until about 3 or 4am. Australian Dave ended up going off in the wee hours with a couple of chochis. (That's Castillian for "slappers", for the unenlightened.) Poor bastard'll never get rid of 'em - when they looked at him, you could just see the words "Meal" and "Ticket" light up in Spanish behind their eyes...
When we went into the club, I started chatting to one of the bouncers about his tattoos & he went off and got me the card of the guy that inked his sleeves. When I told him that I wanted to get the words "Tu Nombre" tattooed on my butt, he failed to see the joke. Frankly, the thought of walking up to someone and saying "¡Mira, boludo, tengo 'Tu Nombre' en mi culo!" just totally fucking cracks me up. I mean, it's hilarious in English. I guess it just kinda loses something in the translation...
God, I'm so fuckin' immature.
posted by cynical p at 12:07 AM
1 Comments:
Not knowning a single word of spanish, I decided to use the google language search to see what "Tu Nombre" means (although I am being fucking dense this morning 'cause it is kind of obvious). I then tried "¡Mira, boludo, tengo 'Tu Nombre' en mi culo!" and got "Sight, boludo, I have ' Your I named in my ass!". You've gotta love google.
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