This is me asleep on the beach, holding a purse. That’s Ryan’s crotch. Taken by Subha
I always thought a Sri Lankan gossip blog would be in order, like Gawker. In its own vitriolic way that’s where the fart factory seems to be going. He seems to be becoming a gossip columnist, albeit one that hates his subjects. Of course, bloggers are in no way celebre, though he’s treating them that way. The fact that someone would give a shit where we go on Saturday is actually kinda sweet. And I can even supply my own paparazzi shots if Sebastian isn’t around. Problem is that I fell asleep and someone deleted my Mona Lisa boob photos and replaced them with pictures of me splayed out like a crab under Ryan’s crotch. Very Abu Ghraib Electra, thank you. I didn’t even remember that I had boob photos until their owner called me the next day. Now all I have is embarassing photos of myself and semi-nude men.
Before I leave home Amma and Tha are like, ‘are you going to bring all your clothes back?’ I tell them I’m wearing flip flops, and both the pants and shirt can be written off. Pick up Noodles and a bottle of arrack to smuggle in via somebody’s purse and meander towards Mount Lavinia. The event is ostensibly to launch a new line of flip-flops, called Urban Thongs. Thongs makes me think of G-Strings, but besides that they’re nice footwear.
The entry ticket was one pair though I, of course, lost mine by the end of the night. They’re kinda nice, though I cannot for the life of me figure out where they’re sold. Anyways, we find a table by the ocean and camp out there. This time I don’t have anyone to go anywhere with so I don’t leave the herd. One would think this is safe, but with friends like these …
Whenever I drink I eventually get sleepy. I really like sleeping, it’s my favorite activity after watching TV. If I’m somewhere sleepable like on a couch or bed I will take a nap in front of one person or a thousand. After about four arrack and cokes the beach mattress looked mighty inviting and I took a doze. Rather than put a pillow under my head or something, Ryan decides to put his crotch in my face, and Electra takes pictures. The one above is my glamour shot, the others are much worse. I apparently sleep with my eyes half open, which is a little creepy. I wake up without my camera and, apparently, my dignity. There are a few more photos on Flickr. They’re helping me piece the night together. Props to Urban Thongs on their launch and best of luck in business.
Deshanie’s Hand and Ryan’s Cigarette