elvis is not dead...he´s been found here in uruguay!

but seriously...

today, rachel and decided to walk to the hamburger stand, sit on a bench in the square, people watch and eat lunch. as we are sitting, relaxing in the sunshine and light breeze, i look up to see what appears to be latin american elvis approaching- his leather pants, lace up shirt, 60-something skinny frame, jet black chops and hair glistening in the sun. after telling him repeatedly that we don´t understand spanish, he proceeds to continue speaking and even breaking into serenades TWICE! he asked if we were sisters and when i told him i was rachel´s aunt he asked how old we were. he told rachel ¨no kissing boys¨ then turns to me. i managed to pick out the very few words i know in spanish which basically consisted of ¨i´m single. you are single. let´s have coffee. oh, no coffee? ok i´ll buy you a beer¨. while the thought of sharing a cervesa with elvis, who is clearly NOT dead, is tempting, i was quickly overcome by the thought that all the beer in the world would not ease the pain of sitting through a date with a man old enough to be my grandpa, and let´s just be honest...it gives new meaning to you don´t speak my language.

doomed from the start. situation averted.

i´m sorry uruguayan elvis...it´s not you, it´s me. no...it´s definitely you.