Travel Chronicles Stockholm - Letters

Ride it...My pony...My saddle's Waitin' Come and Jump On It

For shizzel, my bizzels!
Ok, so Stockholm is bitchin'! First of all, the company was delightful and who knew that I am clearly of Viking descent? Think about it...I am blonde, blue eyed, fair, drop dead smoking hot, and extremely violent and vulgar. It makes perfect sense now, doesn't it? Ja! Javlar cosa!!! Raggarstrang!

So if any of you were ever wishing you were with me on this trip, now is the time to dance around in glee that you are not here. I will travel 44 hours straight to get back to KC. I have a 13 hr layover in London and an overnight one in Newark. Blah. I'm totally dreading it, but what are you gonna do? I'm just praying that I sit next to Americans who bathe on the long flight to the States. What is it with the Euostench, anyway? I live for you, hos!
w/love,
Sum

Travel Chronicles Nice/Florence - Letters

Big Like Buffalo...Long Like Snake

Ciao, my naughties!

I finally got into Florence today. Jesus Christ. Why is travelling between European countires such a biyotch?

Seriously, my train was cancelled and I was FORCED to take a horrendous bus to Milan. Fortunately, I made a great new friend named Paula, who is some big wig in the entertainment industry. So, Paula insisted that I join her and her friends in Milan where we partied like total rockstars. It was SO fun, despite the Ninth Circle of Hell, (a.k.a Tha Bus.) All of her friends were artists and designers and they had the most fabulous apartments in the history of the world. We ended up smoking weed on this Danish guy's rooftop at 4AM. Clearly, it turned out ok after all!

So I thought I'd be learning all kinds of life lessons on this trip, like you can always depend on the kindness of strangers and you can get around just fine on your own, but the two most important things I've picked up so far are:

1. Don't step on the wet spots on the sidewalk...they're dog excretions.
2. I have above average ta tas!

The beaches in Nice were (uncomfortably composed of boulder like rocks that dig into your back, and) topless. So, when in France... I picked a spot in the middle of a large group topless women, so as not to stand out, and I released the party hats into the wild blue yonder, where they were exceptionally burned.

But really, the only racks I ever see are these perfect, C-Ho-esque, full, perfect boobs. I had no idea until I was in Nice that MOST women's chi chis are not Playboy quality! I am in the majority! Yay! I'm feeling very much like celebrating by exposing my breasts in public as much as possible from now on. Just thought I'd share that with you! I love you guys and miss you tons! I'll be back soon...get you're dancing shoes on!

w/love,
Summer

Travel Chronicles Paris - Letters

Oui, I am très Drunk! And Apparently Aryan...

Hookers,

I loved Paris! As soon as I get home, I'm taking French classes so that when I am a rich and famous rock star I can have my very own extremely cool flat, where I can promptly commence gorging myself on delicious food all day and all night.

Last night, I went to my friend Staphane's birthday party where I ate cherries off of a tree in the backyard. I'm talking I just bit those suckers right off of there...Mmmm mmmm! Then on my way to the Louvre, I saw some guy tearing the crap out of the sidewalk with a power breaker and thought of you, B. I wanted to throw on a bikini, roll myself in oil, and join in the fun.*

I decided to peace out a little early to go to Nice, which, appropriately, is very nice. I plan on baking myself like so much brownies for the next three days. I'm hoping to avoid scary old lady boobs, though. I noticed (unfortunately) that they were out in abundance on the beach today on my way to the hotel. Ick.

I hope you're all getting ridiculous amounts of action while I'm gone, and I expect dramatic stories regarding such activities from some of you...you know who you are...when I get home!

w/love,
Sum

*(See http://www.ministryofsound.com/Music/Singles/BennyBenassi-Satisfaction.htm for details!)

Travel Chronicles Madrid - Letters

Damn I Look Good...Jaundiced, but Good

My Babies,

It's official. I hooked up with my first pseudo celebrity. OK, so it's not exactly the equivelant of saying, "I got on Brad Pitt circa 'Thelma and Louis'," but if you live in my world, which you all do or you would not be recieving these e-mails, then it sort of, kind of, mostly is. I was at a club called Joy with Eloy, and started dancing with this dude.

Eloy and his friends are like, Oh my God, do you know who that is? And I'm like, who? Apparently, he's the son of a very famous bull fighter, and is an up and coming one himself. I have two words, ladies... (Gentleman, cover your eyes.) Tight Ass. I'm talking, you could look at that thing through a hole in a paper plate, and it clearly belongs in a museam. Jose, or as I like to call him, Jo, did not speak a drop of English, and I not a drop of Spanish, but we managed to get along famously regardless!

Anywho, I'm in Paris now, and as much as I wish I could tell you that my night train experience was romantic and fabulous, it was decidedly not. I'd love to report that I spent the night writing poetry and smoking cigarettes whilst wearing a black beret, but the truth is that I had a migraine, which only heightens one's sense of smell...not the most pleasant thing when the prevailing fragrance is sour milk and Johnny-on-the-Spot. For those of you who know Ajax, I spent the night getting to know him intimately as he sat on my face for the majority of the trip so as to block the stench.

I miss you guys and hope that everyone is misbehaving. You are all gorgeous!!!!

w/love,
Sum