El día de la mujer o El viaje anterior.
Un buen día, El sombrero, Yo y Pérez decidimos abandonar
sólo por unos segundos,
las escaleras.
                                           Aunque eso implicara un desperdicio de tinta y un sin fin de
                                                      estupideces
por parte del autor.
La mañana era plomiza como la noche, y algunas atrevidas estrellas se enredaban con mi bufanda,
Yo, amablemente, les ofrecía el mejor chocolate,
pero e

She’s trying to drive me crazy.  I know she is.  There is no possible way that this is incidental.  She stands there, pushing her hair gently behind her ear, taking drags off those nasty cigarettes of hers, and she looks so bored with everything.  And then she smiles at me. That would be the beginning of the end.
She climbs into the car with me and sings off-key to every fucking song I used to love.  Then we get home and that’s when the real wild times begin.  I can’t watch movies without wanting to fuck the lead actress.  Listening to music with female singers is a death wish for my afternoon.  
Since she moved in five months ago I’ve learned so much.  I’ve learned that the sky in fact is not blue.  Nor is it really “up”.  I’ve learned that it’s not necessarily obvious that Arnold Schwarzenegger’s face in Commando HAD to be pai