Sexy boy

Good God.
Gorgeous is around. This is such a pathetic story about a stupid crash that is taking me some time to assimilate. Still I am writting about it. Definitely, I have to give up Coca-Cola. Those bubbles are damaging my already damaged brain.
I could be his.... I am gonna try to be kind with myself for once and say that I could be his older sister to have anything serious with him. Taking off the sinful implications of the metaphorical relation I just mentioned I am going to keep shit simple here: He's hot like hell. And he makes me feel like Madonna. No, not like a virgin. More like a bitch .
Anyway, his body is somewhere near and what am I doing about it? Well, pretty obviously, I am just writing about the moral implications of having sex with someone who has recently turned .... ad has not a clue how Deep Purple sounds and maybe thinks that Oasis are too old fashion. I am doing all this while I listen to Kerrang radio.
Well, it's only Thursday. I don't think that things would change that much if it was Friday or any other day of the week for the matter.
I might be bored, and there's nothing on TV apart from the episode of The Inbetweeners that I already saw.
I recently got addicted to this programme. I imagine that, in the case I have kids in this country, they will look like these pricks. Sweet. No...The word I am looking for is scary, hahah.
I guess, in case I decided to have kids in the UK, I would send them to Galicia as soon as they had school holidays. First, because my mum would buy them the plane tickets (:D). And secondly, and most important, (though I guess in that future the price to fly wont be that expensive, as there will be some sort of futuristic trasportation more environmentally friendly and even faster than planes...In the future I am thinking of teletransportation would no longer be a Star Trek thing...)I would love them to have that northern accent we got in that far corner of Spain that Romans called the end of the world...Gosh they were simple those Romans. And too lazy to swim the ocean. uffff...there was more guys...Much more.
What I was talking about? Oh yeah...the viking..and my kids...mmmmm... This is getting Freudian. I am thinking of the weird connection. I don't think that I want the viking to be the father of any of my little ones (specially because I won't see myself in prison for corrupting under age youngsters, though I cannot think of a better reason why to be be in prison for) I guess that, deep inside, I see him like a little boy...Bollocks!! Jesus Madonna, how do u do it?! HOW?! Not need to say. We all know. That was rethoric.
And here I am, having dirty thoughts regarding the Blondy and also calculating how many days per year my parents could enjoy their grand children.
And the scary part of all this senseless talk is that I see my future here!! Probably I love this country more than I think but I have no idea why. Well, of course I know, but I must keep it secret.
And if my boy, in that blurry future I saw in my crystal ball, decides to wear black skinny jeans and a hat, I'd will explain him that there was once someone called Pete Doherty to whom he looks like (and I'll like it!!). The creature will know who Pete is, because...Well, basically because he won't have a choice. No way!! hahaha.
Poor thing; he doesn't even exist and I am already deciding his wardrobe, discography, library, even Uni...ufff...I guess he's lucky not to be here. But maybe one day...
For sure, the young Blondy wont contribute with his genes for the cause. Save them for someone more conventional, sexy boy (trainspotting song in the backgorund. Once per month I am diabolical!!)