Farewell II
So it's been coming. My plan was to post it right after Farewell I (nooo!!! really!?!?), but well, I had to take some time off. Now it's time to post some last things about our Brazilian friend, Rod.
What can I say about Rod that I haven't said already? I really can't think of anything, so I'll just proceed with some untold anecdotes. For example, one day when we were having a few drinks at the hotel (here's some background info: Rod had had at least one beer for the whole past week and his momma didn't want him to keep on drinking at that rate because he was becoming an alcoholic... the thing was, she didn't know he already was) and well, we have a beer at the bar, and then we have another beer at the bar. We're about to have a third beer, but then we decide instead to get two to go and and have them in the balcony outside where we have a good view of part of the city. So we drown one beer (that would be the third) and then when we're starting on the fourth, Rod's gonna lower the hood on his sweater (see? he's cold in the Venezuelan night... good luck in Canada) and while he's doing it he realizes that he he's holding a beer with that hand. So what happens? He showers himself in beer. So well, we go upstairs for him to dry his sweater. When he's finally done, he grabs his beer and we go over the the elevator to go back down, and we heard the elevator bell sound. We move towards the elevator and when the doors open Rod's parents come out. I didn't know what to do, I wasn't holding a beer but Rod was, and I glance over at him and he's just there, shocked, holding his beer. What could possibly be a worse scenario? You had to be there to appreciate Rod's face. As we say here in Venezuela, "lo agarraron con las manos en la masa" or "atraparon al pajuo."
Here's something you didn't know about Rod: classical music makes him think. So we learn two things from that. One, he hasn't listened to much classical music (only joking, Rod) and he should trade his Rufio (sounds like a dog, doesn't it!? It's actually a punk band... with a dog mascot) CD's for some good ol' Beethoven.
You know why Rod thought that Calabria took a long time to get to places? Well, it's because first he screws around, then he takes a dress, and then he... what? Takes a dress? Right, Rod, right... whatever that means.
And well, I'll close with some crazy things Rod has done under the influence. These all happened during our Sophmore year. Okay, first he jumped in the pool... at midnight. He was shaking when he came out. Second, he ran down the hotel hill (the one next to the pool) all the way down to the road and then jogged his way back to the hotel (through the main entrance... I wonder what the guards were thinking...). Three, he danced with a 70 year old woman at a party we crashed (and he told her that he studied at the Carabobo and a bunch of other BS). I'm sure he did loads of other things, but I can't remember them, unfortunately. Those should suffice, though.
So well, Rod. Take care in Canada. We all wish you the very best and we hope you can score with someone who's not a nun (I can't believe I just wrote that...). We all hope to see you in the summer, but we know that you might have to fly to Brazil first to check if your mom's awake (and then not come here).
Thanks for the memories.
What can I say about Rod that I haven't said already? I really can't think of anything, so I'll just proceed with some untold anecdotes. For example, one day when we were having a few drinks at the hotel (here's some background info: Rod had had at least one beer for the whole past week and his momma didn't want him to keep on drinking at that rate because he was becoming an alcoholic... the thing was, she didn't know he already was) and well, we have a beer at the bar, and then we have another beer at the bar. We're about to have a third beer, but then we decide instead to get two to go and and have them in the balcony outside where we have a good view of part of the city. So we drown one beer (that would be the third) and then when we're starting on the fourth, Rod's gonna lower the hood on his sweater (see? he's cold in the Venezuelan night... good luck in Canada) and while he's doing it he realizes that he he's holding a beer with that hand. So what happens? He showers himself in beer. So well, we go upstairs for him to dry his sweater. When he's finally done, he grabs his beer and we go over the the elevator to go back down, and we heard the elevator bell sound. We move towards the elevator and when the doors open Rod's parents come out. I didn't know what to do, I wasn't holding a beer but Rod was, and I glance over at him and he's just there, shocked, holding his beer. What could possibly be a worse scenario? You had to be there to appreciate Rod's face. As we say here in Venezuela, "lo agarraron con las manos en la masa" or "atraparon al pajuo."
Here's something you didn't know about Rod: classical music makes him think. So we learn two things from that. One, he hasn't listened to much classical music (only joking, Rod) and he should trade his Rufio (sounds like a dog, doesn't it!? It's actually a punk band... with a dog mascot) CD's for some good ol' Beethoven.
You know why Rod thought that Calabria took a long time to get to places? Well, it's because first he screws around, then he takes a dress, and then he... what? Takes a dress? Right, Rod, right... whatever that means.
And well, I'll close with some crazy things Rod has done under the influence. These all happened during our Sophmore year. Okay, first he jumped in the pool... at midnight. He was shaking when he came out. Second, he ran down the hotel hill (the one next to the pool) all the way down to the road and then jogged his way back to the hotel (through the main entrance... I wonder what the guards were thinking...). Three, he danced with a 70 year old woman at a party we crashed (and he told her that he studied at the Carabobo and a bunch of other BS). I'm sure he did loads of other things, but I can't remember them, unfortunately. Those should suffice, though.
So well, Rod. Take care in Canada. We all wish you the very best and we hope you can score with someone who's not a nun (I can't believe I just wrote that...). We all hope to see you in the summer, but we know that you might have to fly to Brazil first to check if your mom's awake (and then not come here).
Thanks for the memories.
posted by Jimmie | 3:58 AM
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