Jimmy does an sketch of me as I struggle not to pop a blood vessel when we find out that our flight back to JFK has been delayed even longer than the 4 hours it was originally delayed after it was cancelled the first time. Got that?
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Some say that if you take a picture of something, you suck the soul out of it. (That's what my local palm reader says, anyway, which is why she never let's me take her picture.) Well, if that's the case, Buenos Aires has no soul left. Below you'll find even more photographic evidence of Jimmy's and my technicolor jaunt through Argentina's capital/Brazil substitute. You can read part one here. Or just scroll down, lazy.
This statue and I have a think-off. He wins and now I owe him a chicken burrito.
We went to a party and Karen O, James Dean, and some famous Argentinian guy were there, all wearing Converse. Glenda the Good Witch of the North, too, but she was wearing Nikes.
I do the obligatory tourist thing and take a picture of other tourists.
Me among many phalluseseses
A stencil graffiti frenzy, including one of the Kraftwerk robots, the Chemical Brothers, Bjork, and Jim Morrison. Sadly, no Karen O. Or big Jesus.
Another of Jimmy's sketches of me; I just tried to say "would you mind taking off your shirt?" to our waiter in Spanish. In response, he brought us more bread.
Jimmy thinks what I just said is kinda dumb.
So we were at this party having a good time and then M.I.A. shows up and she's all like "Galangalang" and I'm all like "pull up the people, girl" and then she's all like "you like my hat?" and I'm like "meh."
A statue of Don Quixote and his horse in the throes of sexual ecstasy.
Jimmy and I are finally photographed together thanks to the wonders of modern technology and waitresses that have a free second.
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