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About Guaynabo

Heya, pal! D’oh! So, this chick – whoooore, man, she’s somethin else! I’m talkin bout this broad I saw down at Moe’s, right? Legs up to here, skirt so short I’m like – “Mmm… donuts.” – ‘cept it ain’t donuts, it’s trouble! She’s workin the room, all sultry, like she owns it. Reminds me of that flick I love, “The Diving Bell and Butterfly,” ya know? That dude trapped in his head, blinkin to talk – “I’m alive, damn it!” – that’s her, but she’s screamin it with her hips, not her eyes.

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So, I’m there, sweatin’ bullets, tryin’ to figure out what’s wrong. I’m cursing under my breath, thinkin’ about how I could be chillin’ at the Plaza Colón instead. You know, grabbin’ a cold Medalla, watchin’ the world go by. But nooo, I’m stuck here with a broken compressor.

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