About Tinderella or Why You Shouldn't Drink
  I always liked to flirt. That's right, I've always liked smiling at strangers on the bus, although many times these hot strangers made me get off three stops faster - they turned out to be possible serial rapists or more- I know what you mean, but that's another story.
   For all my badness, I was always in a relationship. Shit, nobody was happy and "men are pigs". So, after a terrible night of drunkenness, gross snobbery with strangers, embarrassing dances on/under/between/next to bars and perverted bartenders, I decided: I'm too young and cool and good in bed to sit around tying that bastard's socks. So, heeding the stammering advice of my sissy friends, I called the bastard, told him he was a piece of shit, that he actually had a small dick, and that he was a sweaty fat guy who wasn't worth my time. He will be refferred to from now on as '' the Moron''.
   And so, drunk as I was, I sent him to his momma's house and that evening I drank, because I was finally free. Or I whatever, so I thought. In the morning, around 5, when I recovered from my severe drunkenness, I woke up trying to bewitch a policeman, about 60 years old. According to the fine I received, I, the drunk that I don't know why you are still reading, after drinking with all the shady people in a bar in the city center, I took a taxi (lying to my friends that I was going home) and- I told the taxi driver (I think his name was Jack and, as far as I remember, he danced with me to arabic music the whole way) to take me home to the moron. I didn't know exactly what would happen there, the important thing was to arrive. Jack drove chaotically there, so he made me spill my guts on the seat, under the seat, out the window a little, on my new shoes, on the street… that's because I have car sicknes, not because I've been drinking like a hobo all night.
   I paid Jack and I am convinced that the peasant took advantage of the state of drunkenness, sorry, of nausea that the peasant himself induced on me, and took 30 $ more than he should have. I paid it, got out of the cab, that smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and the sweat of mister Jack, soaked for several years in the seats, and I started throwing my new and dirty shoes at the windows of the Moron. It's all a blur from here, but thank god for the police report. I started insulting the Moron with direct reference to... the whole nation, to be more precise. And I disturbed the public peace. And throwing my shoelaces, I also hit that fat girl in the head that Moron was flirting with. And guess what... her dad was a policeman 😒. These two morons called the police. I remember that they told me that I was embarrassing and I wanted to spit them, like that, right between the eyes. I spat on myself 🙄. The police were writing the fine, I panicked. They were filming me, I remember that I took the policeman by the hand and told him that we could solve the whole situation differently, smiling gently at him. I was suspected and later investigated for prostitution.
  I always liked to flirt. That's right, I've always liked smiling at strangers on the bus, although many times these hot strangers made me get off three stops faster - they turned out to be possible serial rapists or more- I know what you mean, but that's another story.
   For all my badness, I was always in a relationship. Shit, nobody was happy and "men are pigs". So, after a terrible night of drunkenness, gross snobbery with strangers, embarrassing dances on/under/between/next to bars and perverted bartenders, I decided: I'm too young and cool and good in bed to sit around tying that bastard's socks. So, heeding the stammering advice of my sissy friends, I called the bastard, told him he was a piece of shit, that he actually had a small dick, and that he was a sweaty fat guy who wasn't worth my time. He will be refferred to from now on as '' the Moron''.
   And so, drunk as I was, I sent him to his momma's house and that evening I drank, because I was finally free. Or I whatever, so I thought. In the morning, around 5, when I recovered from my severe drunkenness, I woke up trying to bewitch a policeman, about 60 years old. According to the fine I received, I, the drunk that I don't know why you are still reading, after drinking with all the shady people in a bar in the city center, I took a taxi (lying to my friends that I was going home) and- I told the taxi driver (I think his name was Jack and, as far as I remember, he danced with me to arabic music the whole way) to take me home to the moron. I didn't know exactly what would happen there, the important thing was to arrive. Jack drove chaotically there, so he made me spill my guts on the seat, under the seat, out the window a little, on my new shoes, on the street… that's because I have car sicknes, not because I've been drinking like a hobo all night.
   I paid Jack and I am convinced that the peasant took advantage of the state of drunkenness, sorry, of nausea that the peasant himself induced on me, and took 30 $ more than he should have. I paid it, got out of the cab, that smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and the sweat of mister Jack, soaked for several years in the seats, and I started throwing my new and dirty shoes at the windows of the Moron. It's all a blur from here, but thank god for the police report. I started insulting the Moron with direct reference to... the whole nation, to be more precise. And I disturbed the public peace. And throwing my shoelaces, I also hit that fat girl in the head that Moron was flirting with. And guess what... her dad was a policeman 😒. These two morons called the police. I remember that they told me that I was embarrassing and I wanted to spit them, like that, right between the eyes. I spat on myself 🙄. The police were writing the fine, I panicked. They were filming me, I remember that I took the policeman by the hand and told him that we could solve the whole situation differently, smiling gently at him. I was suspected and later investigated for prostitution.
