Soooooo. In the midst of all this learning, we needed nourishment, and where better to go than the Back Bar at Old Ebbitts where many a deal have been struck, and the only artwork displayed is of Rubenesque women - who make us look like Twiggy - well at least to a guy whose thrown back several pints, or maybe a Keg. And this leads to..... well I'm just going to say it. I kissed a Brit and I liked it.
In addition to violating some International statutes, due to the French-style I used on the English lad, I must confess, he's about 100 years younger than I. You know how it is with Super Heroes, we are centuries old - oh wait maybe that's vampires. Well I'm sure some of my ex-boyfriends believe I sucked the life out of them. (Pic. of Brit below)
And in my defense, I don't wander around strange cities looking for jail bait to osculate, but he was begging for it. No, literally, I swear - he begged. But I have issues with PDA (Public Displays of Asininess). So he had to muster up some sorcery of his own to make me believe we were the only people standing in the middle of the hotel lobby. And perhaps the Veuve assisted in the illusion. Who am I to say? I couldn't even remember my room number at that point.
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