Ever Sleep In A Wine Cask?

The airplane was musty, and everyone around me was either senile or butt ugly. There was a women of middle age, opposite me who gave me eyes, and I gave her eyes back, I was too bored to refuse her flirtations. And besides she wasn't too bad looking for someone as old as oak. I would be so lucky to look like anything resembling her human face by the time my drug use catches up and decides to live in my skin. We got into conversation and she told me that her  boyfriend had ditched her and upgraded to first class, I chuckled and said 'Oh but we are on first class, so looks like he lost out' she patted by knee with a beaming smile, that made lots of wrinkles crawl out from under her nose and above her mouth. Which kind of turned me on. 

I arrived at my hotel which was wonderful, like something out of Asterix and Obelix, the rooms were made from four wine casks that had previously held 14, 500 liters of Beaujolais wine. Birthplace of the casks-a French chateau. I got a two-person room as my girlfriend was arriving tomorrow, but I had the room to myself tonight. Oh I forgot to mention where am I? I am in Stavoren, a quaint port town painted by the stories of the the mystical Lady of Syavoren .

That is the Lady of Stavoren from behind. I do not know anything about her because I am not a travel book kind of guy, but I wanted to take her back to the hotel room and get stoned with her, but I knew the authorities here were not to be messed with. So I was a good boy and went to a strip club instead where I met Mindy, an American who somehow ended up her in the land of clogs and windmills. She looked like Julia Roberts but not as ugly and without the onionskin.  She told me some story about owing someone money and hiding out for a bit. I just kept nodding, and then signaled to her that we should leave. So we left and went back to the Wine Cask. How I love saying that. But not before we got a few bottles of wine. Every time I was in the Wine Cask room I wanted to fill it with wine; imagine floating in wine, the sensations, the inebriation, the beautiful mermaids. My girlfriend arrived a little early and caught me with the Mindy, but we have an open relationship, so she joined in the morning sessions of casual sex and drugs. It got a bit boring after a while so I popped out for a milkshake in MacDonalds, tasted lovely, strawberry flavour I think. Overall it was a very nice trip.

USSR National Anthem

Macdonalds to do Crêpes of Locusts?

Living in a fat person's paradise, Macdonalds may be serving you crêpes of locusts if Marcel Dicke's predictions on Ted.com are to be taken seriously. Can we adapt the Third World's eating habits? Hopefully by then McDonalds will be indited by some kind of modern food based Genoa convention tribunal . With some breathtaking legal work on behalf of animals and fat people or impish skinny people that think because they are skinny that somehow their hearts cannot snap to death mode at any moments. But hurrah the old dinosaur sized bitch will be extinct and the a future of people built on sound ethics and social consciousness, but wait, hold on a second Billy, now is that a utopia much, ahahahah? To the right is a photograph taken three days ago in a contemporary Bangkok market with insects waiting to be used as fillers for crêpes.

The more and more you listen to Marcel, the laughter fades and subsides for a kind of recognition of it practicality, besides we already consume insects when we are asleep and also a lot of food is allowed to have a certain percentage of insect that is inevitable and impossible to remove, admittedly its a vey minute proportion, microscopic even. Would you kiss this cutie if she was fond of ice-cream with crickets? Let's say it's just in her eating habits, plenty of protein yes yes,cutie cutie yes yes but would you get over her eating habits?

So in the future would you rather have acme raped faced kids whose kitchen kudos are replicating error prone methods with slave labour incentives or would you rather be served at bamboo stalls by burly Amazon warrior women with scruples and authenticity in a multicultural paradise, enough backstopping, on with the insects, then the immigrant aliens, come on Simon Pegg out with him, lets chuck him on the barbecue, we’re hungry!