One of the crucial conditions for the existence of the words which appear on this screen is the fact that my beautiful girlfriend Belén is out of town visiting family down south. A circumstance which leaves me alone at home with a lot of time on my hands and well, there you have it.
So what am I doing here flying solo on a Tuesday night? Out with the boys carousing, trying to pull chicks? Standing in the line for the bathroom of the after-hours bar? Breaking it down on the dance-floors of Barcelona’s shittiest and most exclusive dance clubs? Hell no. Actually, I’m doing the same thing I’d be doing if she were here: watching the penultimate gala of the 2008 edition of Operación fuckin’ Triunfo, baby. (more…)
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