Ok. They have a new word here. They don’t know what it means.
It is “to wank” or “wanker”, to whit, this morning my clock radio woke me with the discussion
“he was wanking off about it all evening”
“yeah, he’s a wanker alright!”
I think it means to enthuse tediously about trivial matters. In any case, it can’t mean spanking the monkey, shaking hands with the bishop, polishing the pork sword, pulling a hand shandy… or they would’ve bleeped it, surely. The way they bleeped “b*tch” at 11:30 the other night…
Much better. Successfully drew cash last night which was a relief. “Plan B” meant eating a dinner of yoghurt and ice cream and going to bed with a screaming headache at 9:30. “Plan A” fortunately went ahead, taking in a meal of red snapper provincial, linguine alfredo and a caesar salad…. Most agreeable. Sat there in the post-prandial lull I was trying to get up the guts to take a bunch of photos of the locals to give a flavour of fashions and levels of fanciability… my lask of barefaced front in photography is the principal reason why you will never see my name and city at the bottom of a poster in athena.
Was most amused by a tricked-out pimped-up pickup that came cruising up state street past the restaurant, with waffer-thin tyres on huge chrome rims, tinted windows and some kind of airbrushed paintjob no doubt involving palominos or something… with the stereo pumped up blaring out mariachi music in waltz time… so THAT’s how to impress the local latinas huh?
A drive down the beach, up hot springs road, west mountain road, and mission ridge back home (this time in the daylight) followed by a long hot bath and half hour’s shuteye and I was set up for the evening’s dancing…