POLA AND ME

Dear Lana,
Let me tell you a story. A story about me and Pola (whom you will see in a photo with me, once you get my present. I met her through Martha, my poor little rich girl friend, and one time lover of Hilda. Martha's cronies from Mexico City came down to see her, and I invited them all over to my house. Pola was among them. When they sat down in my apartment, Martha sat on the loveseat, while I sat by myself on the couch. Gabriel and Pola sat on their knees next to Martha. They both hated me because they saw me as competition. Pola I eventually won over, but Gabriel ended up being put in rehab by Martha's family ( he completely lost it, and even wrote LESBIAN on Hilda's front door).
Then one day, my friend Sylivie, a lesbian from Vancouver, invited me to go with her to San Miguel to visit some of her lesbian friends and meet up with Pola. She was going in the hopes that she and Pola would get it on. However, Pola and I ended up spending all our time together, without them. She had some ecstasy mailed to her, ingeniously hidden in an university textbook. So we went to the thermal baths in San Miguel, and took it there. I was sort of rolling around on the grass, while Sylvie and Pola lounged in a shallow pool. Around closing time, Sylvie and Pola realized that the water had disappeared from their pool. They were just lying there on the concrete for a while.
Then one night we all went out to this disco called El Grito (the Shout)—it had something to do with Independence day. Anyhoo, Sylvie and I decided to start taking off our clothes. We were promptly escorted out, but not before some architect guy bought me a dozen roses. Adriana, our host (she was one crazy dyke) said, "Do you have any idea who just gave you those roses?" as if I should. Then Sylvie said (bless her heart) "Do you have any idea who Alex is?" On the drive home, Adriana suddenly stopped the car and kicked me and Pola out. We had no idea where we were, so I said, "Come on, baby, I'm sure there's an after around here somewhere."
So we ended up in this hole in the wall, populated by Ranchero types (ranchero is the Mexican equivalent of rednecks). So Pola and I pretended we had just got married. We came up with the following dialogue, for any would-be listeners. I would ask her, "Tell me again why you married me." And she would answer, "For your money and your giant cock." Then we found one danceable song on the jukebox and danced basically our own version of the Lambada.
After we left, we wandered around downtown San Miguel. It was very late at night when we came upon a huge Catholic cathedral. And all of a sudden I started swearing at God, for having taken away my mother. Pola had just lost her mother as well, so she joined in. Pretty soon we grew exhausted from all this shouting and sat down. Then we lay down. Then the cops drove up to us, so we sat up as quickly as possible and tried to look as nonchalant as we could. The cops just looked at us and kept driving.
Then a morning jogger passed us, and I yelled after him, "You can't outrun death!" Pola doubled over in hysterics. Then she ran up to the jogger, waved her hand in his face, and said, "Hi, I'm Death."
The next night we went to this restaurant/pool hall called Lola's. Everyone could tell instantly that we were all from Vallarta, because of our tans and our 'tude.
Pola dug out the two extra hits she'd hidden and gave me one. Now, these were very powerful E's, the kind that radiates from you and infects other people. Remember the time that we took it at Limelight, and that girl sat with us to soak up our vibe? Well, this E was far stronger than that one. So Pola and I left our friends in search of adventure. We went to this crowded bar and sat down with a couple of newlyweds. Somehow, I think telepathically, Pola and I agreed to seduce them both (she the woman and I the man). In no time they were buying us drinks and telling us bad things about their partner. Pola and I grew bored with them and left in search of a gay bar.
We eventually found one, but it was completely empty, with the exception of the cute bartender, who as it turned out, was bisexual. Somehow I ended up in the DJ booth, spinning eighties faves. The bartender kept buying us drinks, and we made sure to order the most expensive ones. At one point, when he went to the bathroom, I snuck under the bar and put a bottle of J & B under my jacket. Then I went into a corner of the bar and passed out. I woke up about an hour later, and Pola and the bartender wanted to go to El Grito, but I objected, saying "What's the point of having a bar called the shout if they don't let you scream in there?" (referring, of course, to my previous attempt at a strip-tease).
We went anyway but they would not let Pola or me in. So the bartender gave us money for a taxi (did I mention we went out with no money? Pola was a genius in getting people to buy us drinks, and later, drugs).
The next day all of us, including Adriana and her poor girlfriend, Sylvie, Pola and I, went to see the Botanical Gardens. I took along the bottle of J & B, which Pola and I proceeded to drink, straight out of the bottle. Needless to say, we acted like silly fools the entire day. We had fun, but no one else did.
Actually, after that, I didn't see Sylvie for several months. She was pissed at me for stealing her girlfriend. If I did, it was completely unintentional, I swear.
I wuv you. Merry Xmas and hap happy New Year. xoxoxo a.

P.S. I would just like to point out that I had those sunglasses long before Paris Hilton-Sheraton did.