When I first started to come to Europe, how strange everything seemed, and so how exciting! The girls I met seemed so exciting. Now it is all so familiar, and unexciting, and so therefore are the girls.
As usual my Munich Regent Hotel receptionist is Spanish, as is the barman. I think the Regent Hotel has some special deal with some Spanish employment agency, like Eurostar have a deal with Hungary. I notice the sign in the lift has a special Spanish menu on Fridays and Saturdays! I‘m not complaining, I just wish they would do a special deal with Italians as well. The first body blow of this trip to Munich—Rechthaler Hof is closed for refurbishment until March 1st! I only booked a second night in Munich so I could have a long drink and meal in Rechthaler Hof on the second day! All I want from Munich is to find just one big bust dancer in one of the numerous strip clubs/cabarets in Schillerstrasse. That is all I ask. Will I be lucky? Almost certainly not. Expect I will see nothing but 100 skinny-chested skinny-arsed anorexics, as usual.
If you ever hear I have murdered someone, it will not be for any crime of passion, or lust; it will be because they started eating near me, and I could not control my rage and disgust any longer. This c–t across the aisle from me on the train has been eating food on and off, picking it up, typing on his laptop, picking up his bottle of water, gulping it down, typing on his laptop, picking some more food up, for the last hour or more. I hate him, and wish he was dead. Don’t eat near me, please don’t. It is really the one thing that disgusts me the most. You could shit near me, and that disgust me less.
The Boulevard Adolphe Max certainly seemed very quiet; not the permanent gridlock of last month. Delighted to find the drinks from the machine were really ice cold, the way they should be. My TV worked, my internet worked, so much better than last time.
Incredibly, I seem to have only got through 40 euros on my first day in Brussels. I had four Stellas in the Dome, maybe four Maes in Fifth Avenue (plus one beer for Ina) then a McDonalds and back to hotel to pass out. A very cheap start to the holiday. Fifth Avenue had fewer girls than at any time I have known. Andrea and Ina were the only stars; Andrea disappeared with someone soon after my arrival; I bought Ina a drink and then left when I could drink no more. Now I am on the ICE to Frankfurt, change trains to carry on to Munich.
On my fourth Stella, finally my black barmaid is here. My god, something about her. Rubenesque. So f—g Rubenesque. And that sexy sultry smile. And the way she always says “peanuts” and makes it sound like “Penis?” I feel my first stirring of the trip so far. Every time I see her she has this effect on me, and there’s not that many women you can say that for. I travel around the strip clubs of Europe, and the brothels of Europe, and very very few women stir me like this Dome barmaid does. Time I spend some days in Brussels and just concentrated on her, instead of Fifth Avenue and Cine Paris. Time I had a go. Now I’m going to head to Munich tomorrow morning but I will just be thinking about her. I don’t need pornographic cinema to get me ready for 5th—I just need to come here.