How many of you have ever seen someone breakdancing and smoking a cigarette simultaneously? Come on, now -- be honest. . . I watched with awe and fascination on my way to the track on Sunday as a group of Mexi breakdancers worked it out in a little gazebo in the Parke de la Cantador. Contradictions are what make people interesting, I guess.
My birthday was last week. By some miracle of chronology, I am 25, and yet still lived during the '70s. It's strange. I baked two cakes and three dozen cookies and Clara made some delicious appetizers. We all drank margheritas and ate cake on the roof, then headed out into the night to see what Tuesday had to offer in the salsa department. . . as it turned out, not much. So we came back to the roof -- our own little private club -- and had our own dance party.
1 comment:
You almost had me -- almost wrote to say "you're 25?!" Then I remembered going to your 19th bday last year. You're just lying so they'll finally let you into bars stateside. We see through your game.
Post a Comment