How to say no to Mon Cheri
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One.Two. Three Mon Cheri. I pick tirelessly in the box, slumped on the sofa. I take them one after the other, unpacks without much precaution, without distinction, and small cherry liqueur, I taste again but no doubt you're really all the same. And that's the big difference between you and me, Mon Cheri, between girls and chocolate, you can not divide myself, m'interchanger or replace me. Know that as much as it annoys me to wait at red lights, being stuck in the escalator or take my foot down the stairs.
You do not want to just stop digging in what you believe to be a huge box of chocolate candy?
- Yesterday I made mocha, but tonight, I would type out a little tidbit more in the style praline.
- This is handy if like that mocha is not there, you can always call his girlfriend praline. Ba
yeah, why not. What is risk? This is the crisis of liver assured.
Me, Me, I'll go in search of a Mon Cheri edition limited edition. But not this week, I was too tired. Thursday, I tried to hit me with Romain Duris after show Sebastien Tellier, but I'm not sure, I think I watched too ... Anyway Tom warned me:
- Love is complicated.
- It's true that my good friend, besides, if I may, there's more season.
That evening, in Jeannette, Bathsheba (mucho) says she was dumped by text message: "You suck bad, I'm leaving . Ha, finally a real good reason to be discarded. And not one of those who fear excuses like: I do not love you.
So Friday, I told myself that friends Y'avait it real. Especially if those friends are boys who love me, one of them is of Armenian descent and knows how to prepare couscous dumplings able to absorb the vodka jet. These people feed me really, they explain the rule of three B PP, dude wanker, and finally connected Brancale frankly ... I'm leaving, twice as big, but happy.
That evening, I am again drunk at a party, again sitting on a couch. I'm next to Czech Petra cousin, he explained that he fucks with his physio, just before asking me what gift to give his wife for her birthday ... I'm speechless. I really want to tell him to give him a good pair of scissors so she could cut his balls, like that for fun. But no, I'm just pretending to listen. During that time. I look at my nail varnish is flaking, but still see where I can write all your names, I wonder what happened, and I tell myself singing on Pipiloritti Rist: I don 't want to fall in love .... With you.
Right now, it's a little anything. I fill the void, an open book beside me, listening to Sebastien Tellier and the shipping forecast, wanting more than turn on the TV. And then in my head, they all shout louder than each other. Is what we can silence the little voice. I want it to be easy sometimes as simple as water running down my instant Royco soup.
Four, five, six, eight, ten, twenty-six, I finally get drunk at Mon Cheri. And tomorrow, for sure, I'll go buy some little hearts Belin.
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