15 minutes of fame

Frank: So, now that we drank four bottles of wine; how are you?
Erik: I think I have never said this before; I think your Christmas tree is beautiful.
Frank: Advokatt. Champagne. Mud. 3250 lights. Sapphire pine. How are you?
Erik: If you'd grow a beard, you'd be Santa.
Frank: How are you?
Erik: I'm always fine, you know that.
Frank: You don't look fine. Still in love?
Erik: I think it's dying. I'm so composed lately.
Frank: You think you are composed lately?
Erik: Don't argue with me about this. When I say I'm composed, I'm composed. Okay?
Frank: That is so composed what you just said.
Erik: (pointing my forefinger a little pissed at his nose)
Frank: So what music have you been listening to, lately.
Erik: Sia.
Frank: Lately.. I think it's time for Janet Jackson.
Erik: I'm still waiting for that Artemide "boob" you supposed to gave me last February, when I turned thirty. So what have you done for me, lately?
Frank: Seriously. End this dream.
Erik: Just a little longer?
Frank: Yeah, do that. Then it's defenitely a rainbow chase.
Erik: I reacted in an exaggerated manner?
Frank: You always exaggerate. But that's sweet. Change the music you play for him on hyves.
Erik: Like an adult, as always.
Frank: Hate me or do me!
Erik: I will use that one in my book.
Frank: I will use it in a play on the day you marry him in Portugal, in the garden of the house you bought for him. A simple home for two.
Erik: Frank, I could never be with this man, you know why?
Frank: Because it was spineless when you wanted him to live inside of you?
Erik: No, because he don't like fondue Bourguignonne. And don't be so gross, it was nine months ago you know.
Frank: Exactly! Here's a bottle of whisky and a pack of smokes. A late birthday present. Go home. Finish it. Fatality! Higher than the lid! Over the cover!

So I pored myself a drink this evening, threw away my tickets for the Gôlse Revue because I understand that i'm just a little to voyeuristic and thought about what happend to me this year.

I started out cocky.
1:30 - 2:07

I think it was in July when I saw the face of god.
Napoleon: Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.

Then my dick got irritated of all this jerking off.

And then there was nothing.

Randy Greif - She looked down at her feet