subiendo el sur

dudes broes pals, dudettes hoes n gals,

We be in the Comodora Rivadavia waiting for a bus to Rio Gallegos, where we bus and ferry down to the southernmost city in de world. But we´re mostly here for the petroleum museum, that is, if it´s free. YPF owns most of de land down here, but we hear there´s an ocean to be seen so we´ll do that too.

Brux puked last night on de bus, no he was not drunk just a stomach flu thing, wish (or not) that Robin Eleanor and I could say the same, as we do not remember finishing that dang third box of wine. Can´t blame us; they played the movie adaptation of GhostRider with the volume too too pumped up. Pump up the valuum please.

Sancho is fattening up for the cold lurking ahead. We´re discussing the possibility of fitting and knitting him a sweater. Everyone we meet tells us of how crazy we are, of how frio it already is down there.

Well, we´d like to see fer ourselves.

In other bodily news, my mustache will now stay in a smart curl on each end if I use enough earwax n spit, thus saving me money on Qtips, which I never bought anyway, but hey, the possibility is enough to tickle my empty wallet. Regardless it´s putting beard trimming thoughts into me head, you know, to accentuate the mustache since it´s still not that long, but they´re thoughts that startle me, I´ve grown quite fond of it you see. Maybe a little touch up on de sides. A Jesus Cristo beard like Shawn´s. Shawn do you read this? Is your named spelled Sean?

That sed, I must go venture out into the bustling late morning city to build up more wax in de ears for future mustache curling.

Catch you in the fiery lands of the south.