Tuesday, March 22, 2011

A tale of two man-whores

When I woke up on Saturday, I really didn't want to see anyone - not only did I feel like death on a cracker, I looked like one of the graveyard extras from the video of Thriller (see previous post for photos, in case you are just tuning in now, and have missed my recent hideousness).  However, my friend Filthy Man-Whore (previously known as The Belgian, but this is a much better nickname) was back in town, and called me up mid-afternoon wanting to get together. 

I was definitely not in the mood for company, but Filthy Man-Whore was only in Paris for the day and he decided to spend it helping to distract me from my misery, bless him.  He brought me lunch, made me cups of tea, amused me with vivid and detailed stories of his exceedingly slutty sex life (hence his new nickname), took me out for a very nice dinner (once I started feeling slightly more human later in the day), and never once made fun of Ol' Eye-bald here, which was all very sweet.

I am, however, slightly worried about how well he got along with the cat.  As soon as Filthy Man-Whore arrived, Furry Man-Whore scuttled straight into his lap (as furry man-whores are wont to do), and frankly, considering where that lap has been?  I'm just surprised the poor cat didn't catch some horrible social disease just from being in that general vicinity, but hey, they're both man-whores, so maybe they're immune to each other...

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