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Seeing Iris
May 29, 2007Men will deny it vigorously, of course, but trust me, they’re worse snoops and gossips than women. The hub is no exemption. I told him to drop me off at i1 in IT Park, come Tuesday evening. I’m finally going to see The Iris in the flesh. What does the hub do? He tags along! He says he wants to see her, too.
That was how we ended up in i1’s Bo’s, my little family and I. Alex wanted to see The Iris as well. That little city dweller, Iris, must have found it weird a little barrio showed up to see her. She ought to be thankful we didn’t show up with a rusty old trombone in tow.
IT Park amazes me. I gape every time I pass by IT Park. That place looks like a little piece of New York City - cut up, dried, and then shipped to the Philippines. The people walking about in IT Park are a chic bunch. They’re fascinating, these people! They walk with purpose, talk forcefully, and look very trendy as they wield ciggies and jab the air with them to, say, punctuate a statement or just flick ashes off. Oh, and not only does Iris work in IT Park, she looks like she belongs there, too. The jeans she wore clung to her curves with porn-ish precision. She is lovely, this goddess, and Wett, Alex, and I are glad we finally saw her in person.
Dearest Rose, I know you and Paul will be good to her, but please don’t be soooo good to her she wouldn’t want to come home anymore.
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