I was just looking at Greg the Boyfriend's friendster page and decided to look at his photos (cause I think he's cute and I haven't seen him in a long time and wanted to see something cute again) when I came across this photo. For a moment I thought "Wow, that boy standing next to Greg is really cute and looks a lot like Greg. I wonder why I've never met him before. I wonder what his story is. I wonder when I can make out with him," when I remembered... It was our last night in London and I had just professed my love to a boy and was drunk with thoughts of "what the fuck..." My belly was filled with sushi and sake and my shirt was covered in soy sauce. Needless to say, I was a wreck. Me and the boyfriends, Greg and Raph, went to Trash where I refused to drink and refused to dance and spent the night staring at the British boys who looked like Williamsburg hipsters and wouldn't even glance in my direction. I felt hopeless, unsexy, unhappy, uneverything and just declared that I wanted "to go home because I really don't feel like pulling tonight and throwing my heart around like that" (finally, right?). Anyway, in the midst of a post drunken, veering on sobriety lonesomeness, someone, maybe Raphael or Andrew or Marisa (Andrew and Marisa are both from NYC and came for the trip with us) found Greg Johnson's twin. We were in shock. We begged Greg to pose with his twin and scared the twin away by laughing and pointing. Finally someone approached the twin and tried to explain what was going on. The twin and his friends were foreign -- Italian maybe -- and couldn't really understand a word we were saying until someone pointed at Greg and then at the twin and it all clicked into place. Suddenly about 6 people were surrounding the two boys trying to get them to stand next to each other for the photo of the lifetime. Everyone, Americans and Italians, were freaking out over the resemblance. The Twins were unamused. Force was used. A photo shot. Greg is on the left.
Monday, March 8, 2004
SEEING DOUBLE. NO ALCOHOL NEEDED.
I was just looking at Greg the Boyfriend's friendster page and decided to look at his photos (cause I think he's cute and I haven't seen him in a long time and wanted to see something cute again) when I came across this photo. For a moment I thought "Wow, that boy standing next to Greg is really cute and looks a lot like Greg. I wonder why I've never met him before. I wonder what his story is. I wonder when I can make out with him," when I remembered... It was our last night in London and I had just professed my love to a boy and was drunk with thoughts of "what the fuck..." My belly was filled with sushi and sake and my shirt was covered in soy sauce. Needless to say, I was a wreck. Me and the boyfriends, Greg and Raph, went to Trash where I refused to drink and refused to dance and spent the night staring at the British boys who looked like Williamsburg hipsters and wouldn't even glance in my direction. I felt hopeless, unsexy, unhappy, uneverything and just declared that I wanted "to go home because I really don't feel like pulling tonight and throwing my heart around like that" (finally, right?). Anyway, in the midst of a post drunken, veering on sobriety lonesomeness, someone, maybe Raphael or Andrew or Marisa (Andrew and Marisa are both from NYC and came for the trip with us) found Greg Johnson's twin. We were in shock. We begged Greg to pose with his twin and scared the twin away by laughing and pointing. Finally someone approached the twin and tried to explain what was going on. The twin and his friends were foreign -- Italian maybe -- and couldn't really understand a word we were saying until someone pointed at Greg and then at the twin and it all clicked into place. Suddenly about 6 people were surrounding the two boys trying to get them to stand next to each other for the photo of the lifetime. Everyone, Americans and Italians, were freaking out over the resemblance. The Twins were unamused. Force was used. A photo shot. Greg is on the left.
I was just looking at Greg the Boyfriend's friendster page and decided to look at his photos (cause I think he's cute and I haven't seen him in a long time and wanted to see something cute again) when I came across this photo. For a moment I thought "Wow, that boy standing next to Greg is really cute and looks a lot like Greg. I wonder why I've never met him before. I wonder what his story is. I wonder when I can make out with him," when I remembered... It was our last night in London and I had just professed my love to a boy and was drunk with thoughts of "what the fuck..." My belly was filled with sushi and sake and my shirt was covered in soy sauce. Needless to say, I was a wreck. Me and the boyfriends, Greg and Raph, went to Trash where I refused to drink and refused to dance and spent the night staring at the British boys who looked like Williamsburg hipsters and wouldn't even glance in my direction. I felt hopeless, unsexy, unhappy, uneverything and just declared that I wanted "to go home because I really don't feel like pulling tonight and throwing my heart around like that" (finally, right?). Anyway, in the midst of a post drunken, veering on sobriety lonesomeness, someone, maybe Raphael or Andrew or Marisa (Andrew and Marisa are both from NYC and came for the trip with us) found Greg Johnson's twin. We were in shock. We begged Greg to pose with his twin and scared the twin away by laughing and pointing. Finally someone approached the twin and tried to explain what was going on. The twin and his friends were foreign -- Italian maybe -- and couldn't really understand a word we were saying until someone pointed at Greg and then at the twin and it all clicked into place. Suddenly about 6 people were surrounding the two boys trying to get them to stand next to each other for the photo of the lifetime. Everyone, Americans and Italians, were freaking out over the resemblance. The Twins were unamused. Force was used. A photo shot. Greg is on the left.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I think you dont need alcohol rather grey suits to make your look elegant.
Post a Comment