Thursday, June 16, 2011

The Cyp Piece

Those who know me know I love to talk. About myself.

So when something happens to me it's likely that about a million people will know all about it by the next day. Especially if someone hot or famous is involved.

During my stay in Venice lots of stuff happened (obvs) but there's one thing that's been left out and people want to hear it. Or I guess they've already heard it-they just want to see it in "print."


My last Friday in Venice was mostly spent drinking overpriced cocktails and lounging at the Bauer. I was alone because my friends were out seeing exhibitions and I honestly couldn't be bothered (what?!).

With a whiskey in my hand I walk around the lobby looking for a place to sit. I see a hot guy with a magazine alone and figure that next to him would be perfect.

I ask if the seat is taken and he assures me that it's not. I get cozy and we have a nice conversation which goes [something like] this:

"You're starting early."

"Huh? Oh, my whiskey. You want some?"

"No, thanks."

"Is this your magazine?"

"How many people have you fucked this week?"

"What?"

"Who have you slept with here? (He points to some rich guy) Him?"

"Ew, no!"

"Why not? You're into girls?"

(For a moment I consider leaving until I realize that anything is better than pretending to talk about art).

"How many people have you slept with here?"

"I can show you-wanna see?"

He takes out his iPhone and starts searching through the pictures. Between shots of Courtney Love, "such a mess," Jack from Salem, "high as shit" and random artists "not as good as me," he shows me girls in his hotel room that he's apparently seduced/taken advantage of the night before.

"Wow. She's pretty-what's her name?"

"Hm...."

"You don't remember?"

"No I do...wait..."

"That's ok."

"No, it's important!"

"Don't worry."

"So why don't you like that guy over there?"

"I don't know. He's not my type."

Disappointed, he goes through pictures of his friends and asks me who I'd "do." He also tells me that he's "very agressive" and "almost never goes down on girls." #keeper

His boat arrives and he invites me to a party, in honor of him, Cyprien Gaillard.

I tell my friends about the Perv and they say he's a "really good artist." So with nothing better to do we decide to go to his event.

His party is totally boring, full of old people and lacking free drinks. I walk around desperately trying to find someone interesting, when I see him sitting with friends. I walk by, say "hi" and keep going (they're smoking weed and weed is for hippies).


My friend stops me.

"Tea, did you hear what he just said about you?"

"What?"

"No, I can't even tell you. You'll be hurt."

"Have you met me?"

"Ok. Well, as soon as you walked by he said "that girl is such a slut!""

"Oh NooOOOOOooooOOOooo he didn't!" *snaps fingers*

I channel my inner Beyonce(?) and march back to where he is sitting.

"Hello, I would like to introduce myself, since Cyprien did it for me. My name is Tea, and I am The Slut. It's very nice to meet you."

"Whoah, Tea, I was kidding."

"Really? Well I guess it is funny that someone who shows off pictures of the girls he's slept with could call someone else a slut."

As his face grows red, I leave for the Bauer, not sorry my ass won't be in his phone.

5 comments:

  1. i can start lovin' you since here

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  2. "THESE ARE MY GALLERY PEOPLE"

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  3. What a dick #fingersnap

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  4. That's awesome! I wish more stories like this ended this way. Nice job!

    ReplyDelete