Art Factory Hostel Blog

My key is stuck in my dorm room's lock

“How did you do that?” the sexy lady in big beige boots who works afternoons in the hostel asked me when I showed her the problem.

“I don’t know…I think I put it in wrong.”

She smirked. I must have have blushed, and felt stupid. Doubly so because, as I was taking to her, I was also trying to staunch the blood flow from a shaving cut I’d acquired just a few minutes before. There’s still a big piece of toilet paper stuck to my temple as I write this. I must have cut off the head of a mole? Or something? Ewww.

A big burly construction worker just managed to pry the damn thing out and then showed me which way was the proper way to stick it in. (I must be using these double entendres because I find this guy kinda hot. His lil’ helper’s not bad, either. I’ve always thought chubby Mexican guys with doe eyes but soft, deep voices were an underrated segment of the Latino population in Chicago. There’s a lot of similar guys here, too, in Argentina. Their little bellies are so cute!)

So now I don’t have to babysit the room as punishment for having screwed up the lock. Off to visit my first gay bar, or two. (I tried to keep this blog sexually orientationally neutral, but found it was just too much effort, and not at all in keeping with my writing style or my personality. I hope that anyone can find something of value on this blog, however. Bitch if you don’t.)

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