siMpLe pLeAsuRes

I want a mustang in cherry red. Yes, yes. I do. And drive through the streets of Germany -- because there's no speed limit there. Singing Sting and The Police in a high, quavering voice... and then some german dude in a hulking Ducati pulls me over and then...

Strangely, a scene from some b-movie.

Okay, okay. Maybe just one of those scooters. I'll go brrft-brrft-brrrrrmmmfft through the cobbled avenues of Italy. No, no, wait. I've done that fantasy.

*sigh*

Maybe Amsterdam. Yep, all those windows and eighty-year-old granmas. Ay. Teka. I'll stick to the other side of the red-light district, thank you very much.

But, ah, the hash brownies...

Scenes from Eurotrip are surfacing once more.

<<-->>

But there's this widdle fantasy of me in this calming bedroom that has kept me going these past days. Uh-huh. And in this calming bedroom, there is a gigantic bed with comforters upon comforters. Beside it, there's a wide desk with a slim laptop on top of it.

Yes, my idea of heaven.

See you around, kiddos.