sixoryx

Carsick

2011-01-08T12:12:00.000-08:00

Inevitably, the conversation went on like it had countless times before, in some variation or another, inside every city car or taxi coming from the airport that sped past the village by the highway on its way to the beach.
"How can they stand the heat? Even in the shade it must be around 40 degrees..."
"They're used to it," someone would surely reply, eventually, perhaps after a discussion went on at some length about the conditions of the poor indigenous sitting outside in shacks of broken wood, or who stood by the road hawking aguas frias or coconuts to the tourists.
They're used to it. They get used to it. They've lived just this way all their lives, they don't know any different. They like hot weather, even! They can't stand the slightest whiff of cold air. They love it.
Ed Sortoson stared out the window as his wife's shrill voice filled the compartment of the small taxi. Ed wondered for a moment over the taxi driver's level of English, and then put it out of his mind forever. He was suddenly overwhelmingly carsick.

Halloween

2010-10-29T18:05:00.000-07:00

We are invited to this big Halloween party where if you don't arrive in a costume you get thrown into the pool. I'm probably going as a volcano. Here is my costume design. CC doesn't know what he's going to be yet.

Ed Sortoson

2010-04-25T17:20:00.000-07:00

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ed Sortoson was fat. Too fat, with cheeks that bulged as though filled with handfuls of caramel popping corn and a belly that quivered viciously as he walked briskly about the grounds of the offices where he worked, at a pace too fast for his build and his face in a scowl that prompted his employees to laugh behind cupped hands and to whisper fat jokes quietly through their straight white teeth into paper cups over thin bent frames at the water cooler- the boss, and though they respected him enough to his face they snickered at him behind his broad, cushioned back, to which he pretended not to see or to hear but which he saw and he heard as plain and as clear as the nose buried into his puffy face, which is why he scowled so, and he muttered under his breath important dates of meetings and deadlines and accounts for the people in Japan or in Argentina, who trusted him fat or not to deliver their goods and make their promises no matter how he looked or how fast his heart pumped as he hurried across the office building´s courtyard with its cool fountains and palm trees and snack machines that vended him full of hydrogenated vegetable oils and sucroses and fructoses several times a day, everyday.

Fiction

2010-03-26T00:08:00.000-07:00

His hands are thin, dry- the palms are narrow with transparent callouses on the bottoms. He rubs them nervously together when he's standing or against the sides of his pants when he sits, all day long. All year long.
"But how did you feel when she left?"
"I didn't know she was gone," he said.

*********************************

His hands are large and warm, the fingers short and stubby. The tips are yellowed from holding hundreds of cigarettes. His arms wave around making constant assertions; his hands chop the air, slap the desk, hold his head in frustration as he predicates the whole point, the whole truth. That being abroad is like being in a mirror: everything inconsequential about you, inside out.
"Then, were you able to forget?"
He smiles. "I think, I was not."

Conversations with Elle

2010-03-01T08:25:00.000-08:00

Me: I tried to post a comment on a youtube video once, but my comment wouldn't load. The little whirly thing just kept spinning and spinning and it never stopped.
Elle Aiessae: Okaaaaaaay.... what did you want to say?
Me: .................
Elle: "I really liked this video"?
Me: ................
Elle: "Cool!"?
Me: ROFLOL I DONT REMEMBER ROFLOL
Elle: You are so retarded

In Memory of Suki, the "Queensland Heeler"

2010-02-02T20:02:00.001-08:00

Suki

1992- February 2nd, 2010

What can you say when a dog you've had for over seventeen years passes away? I have so many wonderful memories of Suki- she was the only dog besides Coko that learned to sit, shake, and speak, or that could jump onto the trampoline with a grand running start (and so was able to get extra special "alone" time with us). She also used to sit on top of her house like Snoopy. Once she climbed up a pile of firewood and onto the top of the fence, and then proceeded to walk the length of the fence like a tightrope to the neighbor's house. Elle and I happened to look out the window sometime after and we saw her standing up there looking into the neighbor's windows and we ran outside to get her down. She also liked to swim and eat persimmons and cherries.

Suki was a wonderful dog and we will never, ever forget her.

Thanks Suki, for all the amazing memories. We love you so much.

Fiction

2009-12-09T19:47:00.000-08:00

The following is an excerpt from the novel tenatively titled Poker Face, by Judy Gaga

Listen carefully. There are nine people sitting at this table and one of us is going to win a lot of money tonight. There's also a dealer, who is not supposed to talk aside from calling out the stakes. But he's only human, so sometimes he does. He really doesn't say much, but it's very important that you pay attention to every detail possible.

The game is starting. The dealer deals and I get a 5 of clubs and a 2 of spades, so I fold and this gives me time to look around and evaluate my competition. You've got to be very careful when you do this because snap judgments could lead to some pretty terrible mistakes later on. Especially with women. I have a hard time reading women. I've got five sisters and a mother, each one worlds different from the others, and I tend to classify women into types based on the six examples I grew up with. I do it subconsciously. In the real world I've never met anyone as crazy as any of the women in my family are but I also know better than to think that there are only six types of crazy. There are as many types of crazy as there are women. And that's why I'll never get married, ha.

There's only one woman here at this table tonight and she's sitting directly across from me. And trust me it's not the worst view a guy could have, ha ha. She's small and thin with an olive complexion and she's deciding whether or not to fold. She does this shifty, side to side thing with her exotic looking green eyes as she flips her long dark hair and I think she looks sharp. Smart. She seems like the quiet type and if I were ever to get married she's the kind of woman I would want to do it with. She calls and I knew she would. Or else I think I knew she would. You see? Snap judgments can kill you off early, they really can. The hair flipping is something to watch out for. But I'm glad she's sitting across from me and not the fat slob to my left who looks like he split half his lunch between himself and his shirt.

Boringlight

2009-12-06T10:33:00.000-08:00

All my respect to Stephenie Meyer, but I've been reading her book Twilight and I cannot fathom why it's become an international bestseller, let alone a mega-blockbuster movie series. For some reason I get the feeling that she's as baffled by her success as I am. Twilight has so many cliches and Bella's voice gets on my nerves. Furthermore, it reminds me of Elle Aiessae's and my absolute favorite series in the world (when we were about ten, that is), The Secret Circle by LJ Smith. Which was, and still is, way, way better than the terribly cheesy and boring Twilight.

Cassie, Faye, Diana, Adam... why didn't that get made into a movie? I never read Smith's series, The Vampire Diaries, but I bet it was good too, and again, much better than Twilight. And now after a brief wikipedia search I have learned that they're adapting the Vampire Diaries into a CW television series. Of course they are.

I bought the True Blood series last weekend after hearing everybody talking about it and I liked the first episode. But what is with the vampire overload, lately? It reminds me of the Harry Potter craze. What's going to be the next big thing, I wonder? A sitcom about a cyclops family, maybe? Or griffins... griffins are majestic and glamorous.

Like I said, all my respect to Stephenie Meyer. I hope to one day write something that will captivate a lot of people, too. I just hope there's some substance behind whatever it is that I write. And I hope that whatever I write gets made into a movie, too, and that I get to choose the actors to play the parts.

The Pepe Question

2009-09-29T18:24:00.001-07:00

me: Pepe? Everyone loves Pepe

SS: But Pepe doesn't love everyone

Simmie

2009-09-27T17:09:00.000-07:00

SIMYA ATHENA IBIZA

May 27, 2004-September 27, 2009

In loving memory of Simya Athena Ibiza, the most selfish little chinchilla that ever was. I will miss giving you big blocks of ice in tupperware in the summertime (which was my idea). Thank you for all the love and joy you brought into our lives. We will miss you terribly.

Movie Night with CC #2

2009-09-13T13:01:00.001-07:00

CC: Yeah. Let's get that one. It's got an excellent cast.

Me: ..........

Insects

2009-09-02T20:52:00.001-07:00

This afternoon I headed outside to sit atop my favorite stool and think when I noticed that somebody was already on it:

It looks a lot bigger and a lot scarier in person. It was almost the size of my palm, when it was at ease. It even raised up into a fighter attack stance. Here's a close up:

It even looks like a warrior. A tribal warrior. What are those dorky balls on the middle of the antennae? Maybe they're there to pick up the tiniest of sounds. They remind me of those things you could put on your spokes when you were a kid, those things that made noise. Those yellow things on its back, the tribal paint, I mean, are its wings.

Anyway, I was afraid. But I was determined to harass it because I wanted to see it do something else besides sit on my favorite stool. So. Standing behind the safety of the sliding glass door I rolled out a tape measure to make an appx. nine foot agitator. Then I opened the door about an inch and, sticking it out the door sideways, I tried agitating the Warrior Bug with the little metal hook end of my agitator. The warrior bug didn't budge and stood proud and tall as if it knew exactly what was going on. As if it wanted to kill me. The whole time I did this, about 30 seconds, I was really scared it was going to come get me.

I haaaaate all insects, especially spiders and am always thinking of two things whenever I am outside: Black widows, and brown recluse spiders. At my house in Merdead we have lots of black widows lurking around everywhere. They have to spray constantly just to keep the population at a minimum. My mom is so brave, she always goes walking around at night behind the bushes and trees to turn off sprinkler faucets everywhere. She says she's been bitten a couple of times, too, and she still isn't afraid. I would love to be like her someday.

There's also a HUGE moth here that's big and black. I call it La Mariposa de la Muerte. These things are gigantic. Think like if you took a pitch black hardcover book, opened it, turned it sideways, and flattened it against your wall. They fly into your home and attach themselves into the corners of your walls. Then, they wait until you are asleep to start flapping their giant wings around in the darkness. It's so creepy and unnecessary. In the daytime they just huddle in the corners like bats. I know they don't bite or do anything harmful but I Haaaaaaate these things, wouldn't you? People say that if one flies into your home and you don't kill it, someone in your house will die. But I can't kill them, it's too scary to take the life of something this large and evil- looking.

Here is a picture of one, in person they are bigger and blacker than this:

Random Family Conversation Remembered

2009-08-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

"That's because you're bipedal and have opposable thumbs."-The Unforgettable Elle Aiessae
"What?! What'd she say?!!"-Diddy
"She said, she wonders why she smells lilacs when we're surrounded by lilies."-Mummy

What a Stupid Day

2009-08-11T16:23:00.000-07:00

I am so annoyed that I am going to break my one thousand day posting fast and tell you all about it!

First, I wanted to go swimming today more than anything in the whole entire world, but our fraccionamiento swimming pool has been besieged by approximately one thousand little ghetto children who have most likely raised the pool water acidity by one thousand percent since noon. This means that not only will I not go swimming today, but I will not get to go swimming at all until after next Monday which is when they clean the pool.

Two, the lady who owns the house we are renting just told us that in order to keep the 6 curtains in the house we need to BUY them all at the RIDICULOUS cost of one thousand dollars. We researched the curtains and to buy them all brand new would cost about half that much. So we said no and right now as I type this there is some weird guy taking them all down and suddenly, even though it is like 7:00pm the house temperature is around one thousand degrees (celsius) and I need sunglasses to see in here. Now we have to buy curtains that fit these windows, which are special windows of a special size that we will never be able to use in another house. She could have at least given us time to purchase new ones and put them up before taking them down.

There is one other thing that happened today that was the most annoying thing of all. It involves a pocket, the family restaurant Hooters, the number one thousand and a pathological liarface. That's all I am allowed to say about it and that is all I want to say about it because it is just that annoying.

One Caught in Meth Lab Bust-Up

2009-07-05T19:07:00.000-07:00

Daisy Mae

Making History

2009-06-28T20:45:00.001-07:00

The entirely over-abundant urine sample of a total stranger (Courtesy Google Images)

My friend and I, dressed in very formal attire and sitting in the middle of a very fancy-schmancy dinner party, were having a very enthusiastic and rather loud conversation about proper stool and urine sample etiquette at the Doctor's office.

I opined that one should look for a way to set the sample down somewhere preferably hidden without having to pass it over to someone else's hands directly, and that the proper way to transport a sample from the bathroom to the lab is inside of a purse. She agreed and offered the appropriate way to give a sample over to a lab tech or nurse hand to hand if the situation were necessary.

We both eagerly agreed with the notion that one should be sure to give as little a sample as possible of either, but were unsure of exactly how much might be too little, which would make you have to do it all over again.

We shrieked with laughter as we verbally brought to life an imaginary scenario where someone turns in their entire (freakishly large) bowel movement, and then the moment got serious as I confided a very personal and emotional story from my childhood in which I fill my urine sample cup up to the rim during a doctor's visit, giving them about 2 cups worth of my urine and how my mom came in after me and poured the excess out, shaking her head and saying "You don't have to give them that much".

It was around this time that I tore my attention away from this engrossing conversation and looked up, straight into the lens of a videocamera (and behind it, a grinning cameraman) standing three feet away from us, recording the whole thing for the ages.

And So I Was Driving To Walmart And There Was This Cow...

2009-06-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

... and it hopped onto a police truck, which gave it a ride to the other end of the Walmart, where it got off...

My Flight Home! Or, Why I Love to Fly!

2009-06-14T13:46:00.000-07:00

Final Ticket Count: 17

June 10th, 2009
ITINERARY:
Depart10:35AM from San Francisco (SFO)
Arrive4:10PM from Dallas (DFW)
American Airlines Flight 2034
3 Hr 35 Min

Depart5:00PM Dallas (DFW)
Arrive7:35PM Mexico City (MEX)
American Airlines Flight 481
2 Hr 35 Min

5:00AM PST: Wake up and get ready to go to Mexico.
6:30AM: Elle Aiessae, CC, AJ and I leave for the SFO Airport
9:30AM: SFO and an hour till we fly!Thanks for the ride, Elle!
10:35AM: Flight delayed half an hour.
11:35AM: Flight delayed due to technical problems with the aircraft. We're going to miss our connecting flight to Dallas. We have to get reassigned to another flight and we get to stay in a hotel paid for by AA. Which is more than fine. Would we like to spend the night in SFO or in DFW? We choose DFW, to split up the travel time over two days. Oh, and instead of flying into Mexico City we must fly into BJX instead. That's okay, too. Perhaps even better. And we get food vouchers.
Our new itinerary:
Dallas/ft Worth (DFW) to Leon (BJX) on Thursday, 2009-06-11
Flight: AA3737
Operated By: AMERICAN EAGLE
Depart: 09:55 (DFW)
Arrive: 12:15 (BJX)

12:35PM: Still in SFO. Still delayed. Dreaming about the hotel. If we leave now we can have time to go swimming and relax a few hours before we go to bed.
1:30PM: It's getting late. By the time we get to Dallas, it will be past 8PM and we'll still have to check in and get the hotel arrangements with the airline, wait for baggage, get to the hotel. Maybe we should change our flight the next morning to something later.
2:30PM: Finally we board!
6:00PM CST: There is a huge electric storm in Dallas. Our plane cannot land, so instead we are going to circle the airport and wait for the storm to end or for clearance to land somewhere else.
8:00 PM CST: Storm is not letting up. We must fly to Oklahoma City and then they'll tell us what to do. I want to stay in a hotel in Oklahoma City.
8:45PM: Oklahoma City. Everybody gets out of the plane and onto the tarmac to change planes.
9:30PM: Dallas Fort Worth. Everybody gets out of the plane and into a HUGE LONG LINE to make their plans with the front desk. We are the last ones in line.
11:00PM: Airline person fights with me and says things that are really obvious. He does not let me talk. I want to change my morning flight because I want to sleep in. We have a verbal scuffle and he wins, I burst into tears and he feels sorry for me. He wants to put us in a really nice hotel, I can tell. But we have been translating for a man from Costa Rica and another man from Chile this whole time and they want to tag along with us because they have no idea what is going on, so he begrudgingly put us in the hotel that they are in. He tries to warn me with his eyes, but what can I do? Oh, and it will be impossible to retrieve our luggage tonight.

June 11th, 2009

12:00AM: Airport shuttle arrives and proceeds to pack us like sardines into the van. We are very illegally seated, but nobody cares because finally we are leaving the airport. It is a very bumpy ride that lasts about 40 minutes. 40 minutes!!!
12:40AM: We pull up to the B----- Inn. Everybody in the van starts to laugh.
12:45AM: AJ gets us pushed up to the front of the line. Which doesnt matter, because CC has to stay and translate for the two L. American guys who are in the back of the line.
1:15AM: CC gets to the hotel room and sees the glory that is the B---- Inn. We are tired and want to sleep but AJ wants to play. We have no cell phones (batteries are dead and no chargers) and so we set the hotel alarm clock to wake up at 6:30AM. The phones don't work because of the storm so we can't get a wake up call. 2:00AM: AJ doesn't understand that we need to get up at 6:30AM to catch the airport shuttle that is leaving at 7:00AM. She doesn't get it.
2:30 or so: Finally we all fall asleep.
3:30AM: Electrical storm starts up again and the lights go out. Which means that the alarm clock goes out, too. I don't care at all but CC sleeps in worried spurts in fear that we will miss the bus and our flight.
6:30AM: CC wakes us up
7:00AM: Back to the airport. The sky is gray and it is rainy. I have my doubts we will leave.
10:30AM: We are told to sit tight and wait because our flight will definitely be leaving, although we will be delayed. We are told to NOT APPROACH THE DESK BECAUSE THEY DO NOT HAVE ANY INFORMATION. A lot of flights are being canceled, but ours isn't canceled and won't be.
11:30AM: Flight delayed another hour.
12:00PM: Flight delayed another hour.
1:00PM: Flight delayed another hour.
2:00PM: Flight disappears completely from the flight listings. Its gone. So are the desk employees. They just left. 2:15PM: People are kinda frantic. They don't know what to do. It's like this all over the airport as airlines cancel flights left and right. Everybody is going to gate D24 by word of mouth. Supposedly Gate D24 is PACKED with people. We decide to stay at our gate and wait.
3:00PM: The airline people are back at the desk again. We get in line and wait to talk with them.
3:30PM: Our turn finally arrives. Our flight has been canceled. We are on our own because they are not liable for weather troubles. No hotel and no food vouchers. I tell CC to make AJ cry (which is easy, all you have to do is stop moving and be boring) as I explain to the airline people that this all started because of mechanical failure back in SFO and how hard it has been on us and how AJ is out of supplies and clean clothes and we need our luggage back. The airline lady is super nice with us and forces her superior to get us a hotel room and food vouchers. I can tell she is getting us a nice hotel this time by the look she gives me and her superior, who is forced to okay it.
3:45PM: The airline lady is still dealing with us. We have a hotel, but no flight back. All flights are full until SUNDAY.
4:15PM: We are still dealing with the airline lady. She finally gives us a phone number to call and tells us to get to our hotel and rest and to call the number later.
5:00PM: We get to our room at the Hilton. I was right. The bed is so comfortable and we all sleep for 2 hours. When we wake up we call the 1800 number and are booked with a flight at 2pm the next day to BJX on Mexicana instead of AA. Whatever!!! We'll take it!
8:00PM: We order room service and watch the NBA finals game. We have a perfect night of rest and relaxation.

June 12th, 2009
10:00AM: We wake up and have a perfect leisurely morning.
12:00PM: Check out and airport shuttle. We arrive at the airport. We're in the same clothes and everything and we havent brushed our teeth properly or put on deodorant in 2 days but we're showered and feeling quite refreshed.
12:10PM: Check in at Mexicana airlines. They don't have our reservation.
12:30PM: On the phone with the AA rep. She apologizes profusely for our ordeal. She rebooks us for a packed flight at 5:30PM to Mexico City. I try to get her to upgrade our seats for our suffering. She says she can't but that I should speak with the desk people about it.
1:00PM: After standing in line again, we finally get our seats confirmed. I ask the lady about seat upgrades. She cops a major attitude and tells me I am lying when I told her that the AA rep on the phone told me to speak with her about it. I drop the issue forever and resolve that I am not a "get stuff free" kind of person. She prints our tickets.
5:30PM: Flight has been delayed 1 hour.
6:30PM: We start boarding. They call out group numbers and we realize we don't have a group. We don't have seats assigned, either. We start panicking and realize that we probably are on standby.
6:35PM: We're not on standby! We got seats.
6:45PM: We fly home. We finally get home to our house at 2AM.

TTASFICST #5

2009-05-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

#5

When I'm watching a movie and all of a sudden some ultra-nerdy character says something ultra-nerdy that only my sister would say.

Like Augie Farks did in Role Models:

*FYI* There was no copy of this scene to be found on all of the internets, so I had to upload my own. For all of those people wanting to know how I did it: First I put in a pirated copy of Role Models into my DVD player, then I fast-forwarded it to the scene I wanted, and pressed pause. Then I turned on my digital camera, and aiming it directly at the tv, I pressed the record button and the play button of the DVD remote control at the same time. I'm a technophile.

The Pig Flu

2009-04-26T17:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday CC and I saw a Mom and daughter driving alone inside their car with surgical masks on, which was a TTASFICST. People are panicking and all the schools here shut down until May 6th. I keep expecting to look out my window and see PIG ZOMBIES marching down the street. How serious is this thing, really?

CC Speak

2009-04-19T17:19:00.000-07:00

"SMASHED POTATOES"

"ROLLER COASTERS"

"LINDSEY LONHAS"

Somebody Gave Me Pink Eye

2009-04-11T22:23:00.000-07:00

I have no idea who. But somebody gave me pink eye this weekend. On Friday, to be exact. It was a nasty, aggressive strain of pink eye too, so in addition to my eye looking like this,

I also had flu-like symptoms like fever, chills, and a sore throat. The worst part of it all was that instead of going to a simple doctor's visit for something lame like pink eye, which really just heals by itself, I had to go to the HOSPITAL EMERGENCY ROOM and wait LIKE AN HOUR AND A HALF for the hospital opthamologist to get there and give me a 15 minute exam so I could get my eye drops. The reason is because it is Semana Santa, or Easter week, so nobody is working and finding a doctor who isn't on vacation is impossible. I wouldn't have gone to a doctor for pink eye, either, but my eye looked so scary that I felt it necessary. It looked like I had some kind of STD in my eye.

Store

2009-04-06T17:34:00.000-07:00

This is a dress store and it bugs me. I want to spray paint a tiny little A after the Z, you know what I'm saying.

Daily Spanish Pronunciation Lesson, Lesson 1

2009-04-02T20:56:00.000-07:00

Snee-kEHrs, roll the R.

DF Stories

2009-03-29T18:49:00.000-07:00

All Mexicans seem to have at least one crazy story to tell about something that happened to him or her while in Mexico City, and the consensus is that it's a horrible place. I've heard all kinds of stories, from kidnappings to muggings to robberies to shootings and more.

My father-in-law was pulled over by the police and escorted to an ATM in the middle of nowhere so that he could pay the police a several hundred-dollar bribe for being in the city at the wrong time with his car (in D.F., you can only drive on certain days of the week depending on your license plate numbers).

This weekend, CC and some guy were trading their DF stories, and the guy said that once he was driving through D.F. and happened to make an illegal turn, and two cops pulled him over. He didn't have any money on him to pay them a bribe, so the cops were threatening to turn him into the corral (they round up people who can't bribe the cops into a parking lot, and then those people have to sit and wait for a tow truck to come and take their cars away until they pay the actual city fine). The guy obviously didn't want this to happen, so he was kind of pleading with the cops to give him a break. The cops decided to take his stereo. The guy agreed, so the cops came over with tools, extracted his stereo system and left.

I know someone else who says that he was tricycle-jacked when he was 5 years old, riding down the street in his Mexico City neighborhood. I guess that isn't too weird as it is sad, now that I think about it. Worse was the case of CC's cousin who was car-jacked, thrown into the trunk and left in the middle of nowhere. He had to beg for his life, and they let him have it, thank god.

I don't know. I really like D.F. We don't spend a lot of time there because of all this the anecdotal evidence that it's a bad place, but I'd like to. My friend and I went there about two and a half years ago and kind of explored the safer areas and I thought it was a beautiful city. The picture I posted is from that trip, taken out of our hotel window.

And the Fatty McSnacksalot Award Goes To...

2009-03-23T20:57:00.000-07:00

Rachael Ray comes on the American Network here and quite frankly, I'm feeling shocked, confused, and disgusted at the things she cooks on that show. Tonight she made Mac n´Cheese Hamburgers. I mean, she mixed up American cheese and cooked macaroni into hamburger meat and then made hamburgers. It was so disgusting I had to watch her do it, and then I went to http://www.rachaelray.com/ to see what other culinary delights she's gone and thought up. Her website is a glutton's treasure trove. I found:

Pozole Mexican Lasagna Wtf

Chili Dog Nachos Wtf

Spaghetti and Meatball Salad Wtf

Gumbo Style Chunky Hash with Fried Eggs Wtf

Cheesy Potato Snowballs with Roasted Red Pepper Buttermilk Ranch Wtf

Sloppy Joe Manicotti Bake Wtf

and much, much more.

Nasty. Every one of those recipes sounds like vomit on a plate to me. But more importantly, doesn't she realize who she's talking to? I read that in 2006 an estimated 80,000,000 people in the USA have some form of heart disease. I'm not saying that Rachael Ray should go all health nut on us, but she's taking "comfort food" way too far.

This is the kind of thing that brings tears of to the eyes of the dainty Elle Aiessae.

Tell Me How I Should Feel

2009-03-15T10:33:00.001-07:00

Just for reference, these are the Village People:

And this is the ad I saw today in a Mexican Tabloid:

Please Vote.

Online Surveys & Market Research

Random Family Conversation Remembered

2009-03-12T18:07:00.000-07:00

Conversations with CC

2009-03-12T15:58:00.000-07:00

Me: The reason I don't like fish soup is because I don't like things that are flavored like fish that aren't fish.
CC: Really
Me: Yeah. Does that make sense?
CC: Not really
Me: What do you mean, it doesn't make sense? Like for example, say you opened that avocado and tasted it and it tasted fishy. That would be gross, wouldn't it?
CC: That's weird.
Me: But doesn't that make sense?
CC: No
Me: I thought that you, of all people, would get me on this.
CC: (sensing danger, trying to pretend like he cares) So, you mean you don't like the flavor of fish.
Me: No! I like fish, if it's fish. Something that isn't fish shouldn't have a fish flavor.
CC: What about the Flavor of Love?
Me: I can't have a deep conversation with you.
CC: !!!¿This is deep?!!!

Drugs

2009-03-09T11:38:00.000-07:00

Signs that your Neighbor Deals Drugs

1. He drives a $3,50o,000 peso Bentley

2. He's got two unfriendly security guards standing in front of his houses 24 hours a day, 7 days a week

3. Houses- He's got two houses right next to each other, and probably one or two in the back although I've never thought to check, probably because he's gone and built some secret escape route in case rival drug lords (as opposed to the police) come

4. An SUV full of scary looking bodyguards tails him whenever and wherever he comes and goes

CC and Common Sense have forbidden me to post a picture of the drug dealer's houses. So instead, here's "Mr. Chomps".

Sheep

2009-03-04T20:12:00.000-08:00

The Farmer looked out his window. The black sheep stood alone.
"It's like they've heard the idiom," he said to his wife. "That black one never mingles with the rest, and the rest never mingle with him."
"Give them time," his wife said. She was ironing. "They've got to mix up together eventually."
"It's just so strange."
"They're just sheep," she said.

..........

The black one stayed back as the others ate, and the Farmer had to wait around for almost an hour for the white ones to eat and scatter before he could coax the black one over to feed separately. As it came closer, the Farmer looked it over and found nothing out of the ordinary. It was exactly like the others, only black.

..........

The buyer was a Mexican man who was throwing a wedding for his son and he wanted to buy a sheep to roast for the party.
"Why don't you take that black one," the Farmer suggested. "He's a fine sheep and has plenty of meat on him."
The Mexican shook his head. "I'll take that white one right there," he said, pointing at a large male by the fence.
"That'll be just fine, too," the farmer said.

............

That night the farmer took his wife to her bingo game. He hated bingo but he went every Tuesday night with his wife because she always won.
"Not even a line," she mumbled as the time ran out.
"Tonight's just not your night, then." The farmer whispered.
"But it's always my night," she whispered back.
"BINGO!" a fat woman shouted, and the farmer's wife and everyone else groaned.

....................

The phone rang. It was John Johnson wanting to know when the wool would be ready for pick-up.
"The week after next," said the Farmer. He hung up the phone and looked out the window. The dog was by the fence, barking at the sheep. All of them stood still, their heads turned in alarm, watching the dog, except for the black one. He had his head down and was eating grass.

...........................

The farmer took his stool and shears and got to work. Each sheep took exactly 33 minutes to shear, which meant it was going to take him about two weeks to finish. It was hard work. The farmer worked steadily and sturdily and soon enough had fallen into a rhythm- eat sleep shear eat sleep shear eat sleep shear and before he knew it he was all but done with only the black one to go. He went and brought him over from the other end of the field and began to shear him. The black wool came off and 33 minutes later the black sheep ran naked back to the other end of the fence. The white sheep made a little path for him as he ran by.
The farmer shook his head, wiped his brow, and went back into the house.

....................

John Johnson picked up the wool the next day and paid the Farmer, and the Farmer went to another farm a few miles away and bought some more sheep.
"Got any black ones?" he asked the other farmer. "I wanted to buy a black one to match my other black one so he won't seem so lonely standing out there in my field."
"You getting a little light in them trousers there, Jim?" he asked him.
"No."
"I had one, but I sold him this morning."
"Oh, fine, that's all right."

........................

The Mexican needed another sheep. He was having another party. His daughter was getting married.
"Please take the black one," the farmer said. The Mexican shook his head.
"The last time I came you suggested the same thing. What is wrong with that black sheep?" he asked.
The farmer paused. "The others won't go near him."
"Hm." The Mexican smiled. "Or he won't go near the others. Maybe they're the evil ones."
"I never said I thought he was evil."
"Just bad luck?" The farmer didn't answer. "I'll take that one there by the front."
"Fine," the farmer said.

.........................

The farmers wife didn't win in bingo that week or the next.
"What a nasty streak of rotten luck," she said. "although I had a great run. Not everyone can say that. I guess I'll just count my blessings and find another hobby. I was thinking about Bridge."
"You're quitting?"
"Why, yes. There's no fun in it for me if I don't win."
"Try one more night for me, Birdie." He said, looking past her out the window into the field. She giggled.
"Alright, Jimmy, I will."

Conversation of the Month

2009-03-03T13:24:00.000-08:00

I really don't hear that well, in spite of passing all of my hearing tests with flying colors. In India, I've read, people will extract your earwax for a small fee right on the street. It's supposed to be a life-changing and miraculous thing to do. I don't know, but after this conversation with a friend happened this weekend, I think I should have this done.

Friend: Have you heard of White Man Debacle?
Me: It sounds familiar. What is it?
Friend: (condescending snort) I said, 'Would you like a taco'

The weird thing is that "White Man Debacle" really did sound familiar to me, which is strange, so I googled it and found nothing. But anyway, I don't hear that well, and on top of that, I completely lost my voice on Saturday and had to say whatever I needed to say in a whisper all weekend, which taught me a lesson in brevity and how often I say completely unnecessary things. So now, after two months of searching for a New Year's Resolution, I've finally found one. This year, I'm going try my best to stop saying things like

"Oh wow"
"I have that dress"
"Look at the floor, it looks like uneven, it's not though I don't think"
"Kind of but not really"
"CC please find Pippen an obedience school and then take him" (in one ear and out the other)
"It was so funny"
"Im going to go to the bathroom"

which are all things that I said or almost said this weekend in my little hoarse whisper that no one could really hear, allowing me to either repeat the important things or filter out the dumb ones.

Ridiculous

2009-02-05T17:51:00.001-08:00

CC got stuck in the traffic that followed after this horrible accident and we read about it in the paper the next day. The cause of it? Some farmer burned a field that was too close to the road and the drivers were suddenly enveloped in a blinding cloud of black smoke that billowed out into the freeway. It's accidents like these that make me care a lot less about the environment and care more about buying a gigantic SUV, the bigger, the better. CC agrees.

Notice, I Didn't Curse

2009-01-26T18:06:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty upset today, because I came to the realization that my favorite airline, Mexicana, is a nasty, disgusting business and I hope it goes into bankruptcy and its dirty rotten employees remain unemployed forever.

I should have accepted this a long time ago, but I didn't because nothing bad had ever happened to me in the jillions of flights I've flown with them. They always seemed to be a vastly better option than the bare-bones American airlines like AA, United, and Delta. On those airlines, the seats are uncomfortable and tiny and always more expensive and the flight attendants seem really angry at you most of the time. But at least the workers don't steal from you while they're loading or unloading your baggage!

But I should have known better. They've stolen from my family members and friends who came all the way out here for my wedding, and, as I just found out recently, they treated my two best friends in the world like criminals (or worse) on their flight back to California, so much so that one of them resolved never, ever to come back again. Unless it was to the beach or some other touristy area where they really can't afford to meddle with the foreigners too much. And that made me sad to hear. When I asked her about it, she said that she hadn't wanted to tell me about her experience because she didn't want me to feel bad about it. But now I know, and I feel bad about it.

They also stole my aunt's brand new video camera, which was filled with lots and lots of adorable memories, I'm sure. And who knows what else. Apparently, as I'm finding out/accepting, being robbed while flying with Mexicana is a big problem.

I know that Mexico is a poor country and the people who stole a bag filled with brand new baby clothes that were given to AJ at her baby shower probably need it more than we do. I know that it could have been worse and they could have stolen something that I really NEEDED or something really VALUABLE, even though those clothes were given to her by people I love and had a lot of sentimental value. I know that it could have happened on any airline or in a number of situations not involving airlines, and that it probably happens in lots of different airlines in lots of different countries (including the US, I guess) every day. I know I should have packed my things better. I know I have to think these things to keep from feeling so angry.

And I also know that I really can't do anything about it, except write this blog entry and hope that someone out there reads it and flies some other airline instead as a result. Or just packs up their personal effects in such a way that makes it harder for Mexicana employees to steal.

Person of the Month

2009-01-11T21:19:00.000-08:00

Name: AJ
Nicknames: Princess Candy, Miss Daisy, Locotiturris
Favorite things to do: taking baths, making her daddy be Morgan Freeman and drive her around while she looks at things and screams whenever he stops moving
Occupation: Baby
Bad Habits: Bulimia
Claim to Fame: freako eyelashes

AJ is a two-month old Mexican-American baby and January's person of the month. She was born in Clovis, California but lives in Queretaro and has already been to her first Casino, though she stayed in her hotel room for most of the trip. She was born at 8:18 on November the 8th of 2008, so now I'm into numerology because of all the 8's. Her doctor is a little old man who moves really slowly and dots his i's with little circles. Because she can't talk yet, CC does her voice for her thereby giving her a personality since she really doesn't have one of her own yet. She can only hold a smile for a good second or two, as Aunt Chaudrey pointed out, and the truth is that she really doesn't do anything remarkable, but this is sure to change as she's growing every day. So far she's an excellent baby and we love her and are very glad to have her around.

Books

2009-01-07T18:37:00.000-08:00

I read a lot, so here is a list of all of the fiction books I read in 2008:

The Cat Who Could Read Backwards, by Lillian Jackson Braun
The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards

The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton
City of Glass by Paul Auster
'Tis by Frank by McCourt
Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt
The Talented Mr. Ripley
The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay
Beloved by Toni Morrison
The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards
The Liar's Club by Mary Karr
All the Numbers by Judy Merrill
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin
Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks (gag)

King of Torts John Grisham
The Street Lawyer by John Grisham
Trainspotting Irvine Welsh
The Thief Lord Cornelia Funke
Run by Ann Patchett
Running With Scissors by Augustine Burroughs
Heart of a Woman by Maya Angelou
Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Whatever

The Best Old Book of the Year Award goes to: Tie: Angela's Ashes and Giovanni's Room
The Best New Book of the Year Award goes to: tie: Run and Book of Ruth
The Hardest Book to Read but Totally Worth the Effort Award goes to: Trainspotting
The Worst Book of the Year award goes to: ALL THE NUMBERS
The Biggest Waste of Time award goes to: tie: The Cat that could Read Backwards and ALL THE NUMBERS
The Most Fun To Read Award goes to: EAT PRAY LOVE
Honorable Mention for being a cool book: Power of One

Random Big Sister/Little Sister Childhood Conversation Remembered

2008-10-02T22:29:00.000-07:00

BS Lisey: Hey, I bet you can't think of a boys' name that ends in A
Me: I bet I can! Let me think!
Lisey: Then think.
Me: Umm..... Ira?
Lisey: No, that doesn't count.
Me: Ummm..... I don't know!
Lisey: God you're so stupid. The answer is Data.

Conversations with Mom and Dad

2008-09-22T20:52:00.000-07:00

Dad: Well what am I supposed to do? I can't stick around here with all those ladies
Mom: We'll find something for you to do
Dad: I'm going to leave the city, go somewhere far away
Mom: I'll turn off your On-Star

Total Evidence

2008-09-08T13:59:00.000-07:00

During the countless flights back and forth between Mexico City and California over the last four years, I always look forward to the passing over of the crop circles. These circles, which are actually sand circles, not crop circles, are located on the mountain tops in the middle of absolute NOTHINGNESS somewhere between the USA and Mexico. There are no roads within a several hundred mile radius of them, so how did they get there?

Watching Tennis with CC

2008-09-07T20:35:00.000-07:00

The US Open finals game between Serena Williams (USA) and Jelena Jankovic (Serbia)

CC: Who is that, her father?
Me: Yeah.
CC: Jankovich's?
Me: No, Serena's.

(Pause.)

CC: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Me: HAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

Speedwalking

2008-09-05T21:23:00.000-07:00

During the Olympics I was delighted to watch the Speedwalking event for the very first time. That is because it's one of the few Olympic sports that Mexico has won a gold medal in (in the history of the Olympics, not this year) and competes in regularly. Mexicans have some pretty decent speedwalkers, so it's big news around here and televised as a main event. Here it's called the CAMINATA, which is where the cuteness of the sport begins.

Because it is the cutest sport, ever. For those who haven't watched it before, it is highly entertaining. The swaying of the hips! The hurried little steps!! The rules!! The whole, "is this for real?" factor!

So the other night I had a dream that I was speedwalking.

I was in the middle of a 25K boulder-hold speedwalking race. That is, we had to speedwalk while holding big boulders over our shoulders. I'm doing great but when I'm about 25 meters away from the finish line I trip and fall. I look behind me and see that coming around the bend comes this girl named Beatrice whom I went to high school with and that I haven't seen or thought about in years. I try to get up fast but I can't, so when she gets near enough I grab her leg and try to bring her down with me. She doesn't go down and instead breaks away and crosses the finish line. I cross the finish line finally and find out that I've just won the Bronze medal representing my country (not sure which one) in the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

At first I felt sad that I hadn't known it was the Olympics, because I would have tried harder and maybe could have gotten at least the silver medal, but then I'm suddenly overwhelmed with pride. I'm the third best speedwalker in the WORLD. I kiss my bronze medal, wave at the cheering crowd, and wake up.

Oh, and then there's Pimp Speedwalking, which is pretty much a TTASFICST.

Thanks Mummy

2008-08-27T12:31:00.000-07:00

I live in Queretaro, the mosquito capital of the world... (not really, but it seems like it). I don't remember Merdead as having PLAGUES of mosquitoes, so my guess is that it's definitely got something to do with being closer to the equator. And the rain. It's rainy season right now, which means that we get a two hour-long MONSOON every night, which is exciting.

We also like to leave our doors and windows wide open all day long because we have a burglar proof steel-gated house and a state of the art alarm system and moat and a ferocious, rabid, killing machine of a yellow lab that patrols the moat's edge, so don't get ideas). Sometimes we come home after a monsoon and find that we've forgotten to close up the house and everything close to an open window is soaked. We'll also find that our house is buzzing with disgusting, nasty, annoying little mosquitoes that loooooooove my blood. When this happens, CC goes into "The Mosquito Hunter" mode, where he climbs on top of furniture and stares at the ceiling with this look of determination in his eyes. His motivation is to kill (by hand) every single mosquito in the house, even though we use those raid plug-ins, which totally work. He just hates mosquitoes that much. I do too, and unfortunately, even with a real live Mosquito Hunter in the house or raid plug-ins contaminating the air from every light socket in the house, sometimes you can't avoid being bitten.

But alas, Mummy came through as she always seems to do and ended my suffering once again, albeit unintentionally. According to a blurb in Women's World magazine, one of the scholarly US magazines that she left me with after her and Diddy's visit last week, if you've been bitten by a mosquito and the itching is driving you nuts, all you have to do is roll some roll-on anti-perspirant on the bite and the swelling will go down, causing the itching to stop completely and immediately.

Apparently, as the Kenneth Haller, M.D., assistant professor of pediatrics at Saint Louis University (?) states in the blurb, the aluminum salts in the antiperspirant help the body reabsorb the fluid in the bug bite, so that it can't cause a reaction anymore.

It so works and the application was so much fun that I wished I had more bites to quell. All you do is roll it on and the itching stops after about 30 seconds. I'm actually not sure if you should use the wet kind or the dry kind, because I used both, one right on top of the other. I used the gel one first, and then thought that the powdery kind sounded more "correct", so I slapped some on top of the other one. I'll have to wait until I get attacked again and then try them both on different bites just to make sure.

I just wanted to let people know, because this has been such valuable information to me.

Cheers.

:)

What's that up ahead

2008-08-24T15:40:00.000-07:00

TTASFICST #4

2008-08-18T07:08:00.000-07:00

"Don't let him catch you staring at his horns. He's very self conscious about them. He files them down in order to appear more normal."

Good News/Bad News

2008-08-13T11:42:00.000-07:00

Bad News: We demoted Pippen from Pedigree to generic dog food. It's called Sportsman's Choice and it claims to be made of Lamb and Rice.

Good News: Pippen LOVES Sportsman's Choice!!! He ate two bowls of it right away and wanted more. And it costs half the price of Pedigree! We also bought the 25 kilo bag, which means that we won't have to buy dog food for a LONG time!

Bad News: We bought a 25 kilo bag. Sportsman's Choice gives him the nastiest gas EVER, comparable in frequency and room-clearing ability to that one time when we thought it would be a good idea to give him a whole bag of cat food "because look, he just loves it so much." We're currently in talks over whether we should go buy a bag of Pedigree so that he can continue to live with us inside the house or if we should make him move out of the house until he finishes his 25 kilos of Sportsman's Choice.

Little Sister Syndrome

2008-08-04T08:46:00.001-07:00

LSS gives me a deep urge to annoy and to please and to seek approval from a higher-ranking sibling who is older than me but not by much. And it makes me blissfully happy to get screwed over and think I'm getting a great deal. The following dialogue is an example of a typical childhood conversation between me and my big sister.

Me: Lisey, will you jump on the trampoline with me?
Lisey: No.
Me: Please?
Lisey: No.
Me: For five minutes?
Lisey: No.
Me: Why not?
Lisey: I don't want to.
Me: I'll let you have one of my toys!
Lisey: One?
Me: Yes, any one you want!
Lisey: No.
Me: Ok, I'll let you have all of them. Just five minutes on the trampoline with me.
Lisey: I'll think about it.
Me: (returning from bedroom, arms loaded with toys) Are you done thinking? Here are all of my toys. You can have all of them. Just jump with me for five minutes.
Lisey: (pause) For three minutes. And I get all of your toys.
Me: HOORAY!!!!!!!!!!!! (Does annoying victory dance all up in her face)

I have realized that the lack of having a big sister around has forced me to find a surrogate. CC is a poor substitute for a big sister, but my LSS is brutal and it drives me to annoy and to please and to seek approval however I can.

Our conversation yesterday:

CC: Jose called. He is coming over to get the sweater he left here at the party. If I go answer the door, he's going to want to talk forever and I just want to lay here and watch sports all day. Will you go and give it to him when he comes?
Me: No. That's a remnant of your party. You deal with it.
CC: (gets cocky "you'll regret it" older sibling-ish expression on face) Okay.
Me: LOL!

(20 mins. later, coming up the stairs)
CC: From now on, I will always remember that you never did me that favor.
Me: Whatever! (laughing up in his face all annoyingly)

(3 hours later, coming home from Costco)
CC: I forgot the garage door opener. Will you go open the garage door? Can you do that one favor for me or is it too hard?
Me: I'll do it if it makes up for the favor I didn't do earlier.
CC: Nope. It only counts for a little.
Me: 80 percent.
CC: Nope. Five percent.
Me: Then Im not doing it. 50 percent?
CC: Ten percent.
Me: Okay!

(2 minutes later, unloading stuff from car)
CC: (Bag rips, cans of Coke Zero roll around on the driveway) Damnit.
Me: If I pick them up, does it count towards my favors score?
CC: 1 percent each can.
Me: Yes!!!

Party

2008-08-03T21:03:00.001-07:00

This weekend was long and fun and sober and exhausting. I planned a bachelorette party for my friend who is getting married this weekend, and while it was fun, I'm so glad it's over and done with. It took way too much out of me. I'd never, ever want to be a party planner. I had a ton of help from one of my friends, a should-be party planner who helped me think of and create our own games and make a LOT of posters and hang decorations and buy food and drinks and gifts and all of that stuff.

My best contribution to the party was "Memory", which was a posterboard with MemoRIA!! written on the top in bright gameshow letters, and below it 12 construction paper question marks hiding 12 face pictures of Memo, the groom. 12 Hilarious face pictures, which I happen to own TONS of from previous parties over the course of almost 4 years. Basically, all the bride had to do was match the 6 pairs and take a penalty shot of tequila when she messed up. So funny. As the game went on, the more she drank, so it got harder and harder. Plus, it turned out to be her favorite game. Everytime a face picture was revealed, she squealed in hilarity and with love at the sight of her FIANCE. SFIC'ntST.

I also bought cucumbers (a ridiculously large one for the bride and funny shaped ones for the rest of the girls) and condoms and we had a race to see who could put their condom on the cucumber the fastest. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but it turned out to be hilarious, especially when the bride couldn't get the wrapper off and lost. We made her finish dressing her cucumber and then she had to drink another shot of Tequila.

We had the party at my friends' apartment because the boys decided to have a huge party here at my house while we were gone, which we crashed at around 2AM. Their party turned out to be boring. They set up a huge flat screen TV in the dining room and somebody brought a Playstation 3 and all of them (except CC, of course, who never gets drunk as a skunk) were drunk as skunks. Clumsiness, singing, and typical pointless but passionate conversations ensued. I stayed up until 5AM participating in these conversations, giving my opinion on things, like: "yes, I know that you two are as close as brothers, Yes, I think that you should lick the nasty table to prove it." It was fun.

TTASFICST pt. III

2008-07-28T09:23:00.000-07:00

3. When Pippen thinks that something is fun, (i.e. somebody throws a ball, spontaneous dancing) he tucks his lip curtains into his lower lip and it looks like he's trying to smile. I finally got a picture of it.

In other news, he may be dying.

Pippen thinks that anything on the floor made of paper or cardboard material is his. Unfortunately, while searching the grounds, he found a Raid Mosquito repellent thing that goes in the light socket to kill mosquitoes at night and we found him playing with it later. He had chewed it up so much that it turned from blue to white. We gave him two Tums last night in an attempt to curb the pain of the poison that's probably killing him inside.

He seems to be unaffected so far. Pippen's got a crazy effective immune system. If we can make it through tonight, I think he's going to be fine.

TTASFICST Pt. II

2008-07-27T15:18:00.000-07:00

2. I think that I've heard of something like this before, maybe in a joke, but here it is in real life, in the very city in which I live! So funny I can't stand it. Both sides are packed at night.

Things That Are So Funny I Can't Stand Them

2008-07-26T22:41:00.000-07:00

Installment One

1. Unexpected and Spontaneous Dancing- in real life but (occasionally) in the movies, like this:

Movie Night with CC

2008-07-14T09:45:00.000-07:00

CC: mumble mumble
Me: What?
CC: mumble
Me: WHAT?
CC: SIGOURNEY WEAVER
Me: . . .
Me: You shouldn't even know that

Basketball

2008-07-13T17:48:00.001-07:00

The 2008 San Juan del Rio Basketball Tournament Championship Finals ended today in bloodshed and a near riot as hundreds of onlookers rushed the stands to get a better view of a fight provoked by a disgruntled player, nearly resulting in my own death by human stampede.

It looked sort of like this, only more Mexican:

But it was still exciting because the fight began as the game ended and the players were shaking each others' hands, after a really close, intense game that was won in the last fifteen seconds or so by the team that had been down only a half a minute before. All the players were pissed at each other. Everyone was getting technical fouls. It was hot and stuffy in the gym and the people in the stands were hot and stuffy with way too much passion for their team. It was the right environment for something to happen and actually I KNEW something was going to happen, and I actually told my friend to get her baby off the floor where she was playing on her blanket because, like Deanna Troy, I had a feeling.

The fight started when Pablo, who unfortunately was on Team Qro, sucker punched player #15 under the eye instead of shaking his hand in the "good game" lineup thing that teams do after games. Pablo sought refuge in the stands next to his girlfriend, who was sitting next to me, while #15 and his bleeding swelling face followed him, bringing his whole team and the rest of the gymnasium with him. It was scary. The crowd was aggravating the situation and people were holding cameras up in the air and recording the whole thing, probably to put the video of the fight on YouTube.

To be honest, when I saw the whole gymnasium coming towards me, I stood up and walked up the stands to the very top so that I wouldnt get trampled. Death by Stampede is on my mind, because of the recent tragedy in Mexico City in the News Divine nightclub when well nevermind Im too lazy so here http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/21/world/americas/21briefs-10ARETRAMPLE_BRF.html?_r=1&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss&oref=slogin.

After being blocked in for about 15 minutes, I was finally able to escape death and made it to the other side and out the door, and the last I saw of Pablo and his girlfriend was him sitting in the stands looking all dejected and below him like two hundred people shouting at him and the police trying to grab him by the arm and his girlfriend standing in between them and screaming in the face of one of the officers. I think what happened is that #15's teammates went outside and threw a rock and broke the windshield of her car, thinking it was his.

So, lots and lots of ghetto drama today, thank god, and a special thanks to Pablo and the nosy, destructive people of San Juan del Rio for making it possible. And for bringing the drama to me, because unless it happens right in front of my face, I never get to see it.

I Do Cultural Stuff

2008-07-10T18:02:00.000-07:00

Last night I was asked to be an edecan at The Ballet, which means that I got to stand at the top of the stairs and hand out programs. Nobody took a picture of me, so unfortunately I cannot post one of me in action, but it turns out that I am the best edecan ever. Here is what I said to each and everyone in attendance last night at The Ballet:

Bienvenidos! (Big Smile)
Aqui tiene! (hand them program)
Adelante, Por Favor!
(Big Smile)
Que disfrutan el show! (Just kidding I didnt really say this line but I wanted to)

Which was pretty much my script for the night. Before I left, CC helped me practice by pretending to enter the bathroom door where I'd be standing and then I'd say my lines to him. It served me well, because I didn't make any mistakes and the night was a success, except for when people came up and asked me questions like, "when is this act going to be over?" or, "Where is the bathroom?", which I hadn't rehearsed and didn't know the answers for anyway. But I made it through and I hope I get asked to edecan again.

BORING MAN

2008-07-09T10:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, our best friend couple (and our padrinos de velacion) took us out to dinner for our anniversary week. It was lovely. We had a heated discussion about the movie Juno and whether or not it will influence teenagers to give their babies away and whether or not it matters. Then CC and the Padrino forced me to watch IRON MAN, on pirata, at our house.

IRON MAN is everything I hate about the movies. Stupid story, stupid cool explosions and stupid "awesome" special effects, stupid "coolest man on Earth" protagonist with freakishly large rib cage that is going to depress all men who watch the movie because they cannot be him.

I'm willing to bet my life on the fact that IRON MAN is plagued with all kinds of basic scientific errors, too (obviously the whole concept of IRON MAN is ridiculous, but Im not talking about that), carelessly thrown in because story isn't an issue and because most people are just like me and too dumb in science to know any better. But even if I don't exactly know what mistakes were made and probably wouldn't understand even if they were pointed out, I know they are there, and that makes it worse.

In other news, I finally tracked down the only copy of the third season of The Office on legal DVD known to exist in the entire city of Queretaro, so I bought it and that's what we've been doing this week. We love The Office. So far, the second season was better, but this one is really good too. Maybe it will get even better now that they've just merged the Scranton and Stamford branches together and Jim is around again. I like the new guy, Andy.

We let Pippen watch the Office with us, but first he has to earn it.

Conversations with CC

2008-06-30T09:22:00.001-07:00

CC: You look like Juno

Lisa de Golfo

2008-06-29T11:58:00.001-07:00

They're practically GIVING it away!!!

Fun with Literature

2008-06-28T17:37:00.000-07:00

Today I ran out of books, so CC (who knows how annoying I get when I run out of books) shoved me in the car and drove fast to Ghandi, the only bookstore in Queretaro that has a decent selection of books in English. At Ghandi, I saw 2 books for the price of 1, a package deal for only 149.00 pesos. Which I bought. :)

The two books, Oliver Twist and Trainspotting, came as a set, wrapped in cellophane. At first I thought to myself, "Wow, someone at Ghandi has either got a funny sense of humor or is totally illiterate". But then it hit me- funny, illiterate or just mindlessly doing their job, the person who paired these two seemingly incongruous books to be sold and read together has very appropriately paired two fictional representations of degenerate societies in Britain, the Old vs. Modern, and that makes a whole lot of sense.

Pippen at the Park

2008-06-25T21:33:00.000-07:00

I thought that this video merely showed Pippen's extreme fondness for water sprinklers, but as CC pointed out, it also serves as a nice example of his separation anxiety issues.

A Story About Happiness

2008-06-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

Ever since I can remember, people been telling me “Cristabelle, you ain’t that smart.” They been telling me that so long that it don’t bother me none and it never bothered me none. They let me know when I was real young so I could adjust to it and know my place on the brain scale, and I’m glad as hell they did or else I’d be bustin’ my butt to be like Annabelle and then I’d never be happy.
My big sister Annabelle is the real smart one. She went to beauty school and got herself a diploma when she was only sixteen years old. Dropped out of high school when she wasn’t even pregnant and went and signed up at the beauty school. She learned how to do everything so good and now she works at a fancy hair salon in Ryers, the kind with big chairs that you sit in with water tubs down at the bottom that you stick your feet in so you can get your toes done if you want. Annabelle, when she come visit, don’t give no services for free even though she practically a millionaire from all them tips she get. Not even to our Mama who was in labor for sixteen hours before Anabelle decide to finally come out. And Mama need a haircut bad sometimes and ‘cause Anabelle won’t do it I do it and I don’t cut straight so I keep cuttin’ and cuttin’ and tryin’ to even them hairs out. Then Anabelle come home and get mad cause Mama’s hair look like an ugly gray rug that the cat scratched up. But she don’t try to fix it. Anabelle, she’s like that. She don’t like to help out Mama. She don’t like to think about where she come from because if she did she’d never get nowhere.
I don’t care that I ain’t smart like Anabelle, ‘cause if I was then I couldn’t work at the Quikmart and I love working at the Quikmart. I don’t have to think too hard with the math either, cause all I do is put the items under the scanner and then the machine tell me how much the customer owe and how much change he need back. Then all I need to do is smile real wide and say “Have a nice day”.
I been working at the Quikmart for so long and I ain't got no plans to quit. I love the Quikmart cause it’s right next to the freeway and all sorts of people come in there. I seen every type of person there is on this planet to see, I bet. I seen gay people before, and all the time people be coming in from all over the world. One time I got a bus full of Chinese people all the way from China, talking Chinese. They didn't understand no English, either. All kinds of people come in the Quikmart. I bet Annabelle sees the same people all day everyday, and that’s what I’d be missing out on if I was born smart.

Another Pippen Post

2008-06-20T16:56:00.000-07:00

The Overdependent Labrador

I think that most dogs pick up on the routine in a household and eventually reach a point where they know instinctively where their owner is going to go or what their owner is going to do next inside the home. I think Pippen knows too, but I don't understand why he doesn't just pick a central corner in our house and watch me move from room to room on my extremely mundane THE SIMS-like movements. He comes with me no matter where it is I'm going, even if where I'm going is two feet away from where I've been. When I go to the bathroom he always tries to run past me and I always have to struggle for a few seconds to shut the door in his face or push his sixty pound tail thumping body out so that I can go in peace. When I open the door, he's there with his tail wagging, ready to accompany me to wherever I'm going next.

Pippen's dependency issues are so severe that he has a hard time separating from us to go to the bathroom himself. I rarely ever see him go outside to use his restroom. Because we spend most of our time upstairs, he has to wait until I go downstairs for something, then dash outside as fast as he can to go to the bathroom and get back in ten seconds or less. I've watched him do this before and it never fails to make me laugh.

Sometimes we throw the ball down the stairs and then we hide from him and listen to his paws scratching against the tile floors in frantic race through all the rooms to find us. One time we hid in the shower and watched him running back and forth and back and forth in a frenzy, until I couldn't take it anymore and started cracking up. I have a very hard time being quiet when something is funny. Then he found us and now that I think about it, those "games" probably make his separation anxiety even worse.

I wish that Pippen could gain some independence, however I know that I am partially responsible for his Mamitis because I baby him too much. It's just that I feel for him because we're all he's got, and labs are very social dogs.

SuperShopping

2008-06-19T09:37:00.000-07:00

When I first moved here to Qro, there was only one supermarket in my area. It was called "GIGANTE", and it used to make me cry.

It was like a ritual. I would go to "GIGANTE" with a mission: to make some recipe from Epicurious. I would be so optimistic, starting out, with my recipe in my hand to make something that always had this ridiculous title, like "Hazelnut Praline Torte with Creme de Menthe mousse and Chocolate Ganache, Infused with Cherry Liqueur". I would walk in the store and immediately get overwhelmed. Grocery stores here are not like the ones back home. They're massive, with names like GIGANTE, MEGA, and SUPERRAMA. They're like if Safeway and Target merged and made one big superstore.

Unfortunately, as my good friend Nikki noticed, I am an unorganized person when it comes to grocery shopping. I scramble up and down aisles and haphazardly crisscross my way through any store to get what I need. For example, I'll need milk, so I'll go to the dairy section, all the way in the back, and then go and get the bread, which is in the front, and then go for the butter, which is next to the milk, etc. I can spend HOURS in the grocery store and when I'm finished shopping my legs are so tired and I have a headache. Grocery shopping can really stress me out and it is something that I have grown to dread.

So this is what I used to do in GIGANTE, and this is why it made me cry. I'd have this long, long list of items I needed to make my ridiculously snotty recipe, take two hours crisscrossing in a store bigger than a USA Walmart, and then finally I'd be ready to leave . . . as soon as I found my last ingredient, the one that had been evading me for two hours, two pounds of hazelnuts, or whatever. It was always the most important ingredient in the recipe and I always waited until the last moment to find it. Why? I don't know.

But if I'm not organized when it comes to shopping, I am proudly organized when it comes to cooking, so I would have ready a translation of all the products needed on my list. Avellano, if you care to know, is how you say hazelnut, in Spanish. So I would look for avellano another twenty, thirty minutes, and then finally ask an employee for help. My conversation with the employee would go something like this.

Me: Excuse me, will you tell me where I can find avellano?
Employee: (not making eye contact) Avellano?
Me: Si.
Employee: The bakery.
Me: Gracias.

So I'd walk away, towards the bakery, thinking about the pleasant evening ahead of me, when all of a sudden common sense would grip me. The Bakery? I would ask myself, and my finely honed sense for common sense would tell me that the employee was wrong. But, being an American, and coming from a country where excellent customer service is something to be taken for granted, I would trust the employee and make my way across the store to the bakery.
When I finally got to the bakery, about a ten minute walk from that last helpful employee, I'd look around by myself for another ten minutes before finally asking for help from the bakery lady behind the counter.

Me: Excuse me, will you tell me where I can find avellano.
Bakery lady: Avellano?
Me: Si.
Bakery lady: Produce.
Me: They told me that I could find it here.
Bakery Lady: No, you need to go to produce.
Me: Gracias.

So I would trek on over to Produce, which would be on the opposite side of the store, a ten minute walk, of course, but at least it made sense, this time. Once in Produce, I would look around for another ten minutes, find the nuts, peanuts, cashews, walnuts, pecans, but not hazel nuts. So I'd hunt down the nearest employee (which always takes another 5 minutes, at least).

Me: Excuse me, will you tell me where I can find avellano?
Employee: Avellano?
Me: Yes.
Employee: I don't know. Sorry.
Me: What do you mean, you dont know?
Employee: Oh, you mean avellano?
Me: Yes.
Employee: We don't carry avellano here.

So I'd walk away and the tears would start to form. I'd push my cart into the center of the store, filled with items from all over the place, and just walk out.

Since those days, I've grown up a lot and can now handle stores even bigger than GIGANTE with relative ease. Plus, I never have to set foot in GIGANTE again if I don't want to, (and I don't) because Soriana bought out Gigante recently, so soon it will cease to exist and is currently transforming itself into another Soriana. Plus, in the past two years, my area has become supermarket central. We now have Walmart, Soriana, Superrama, Gigante, MEGA, and Sam's Club in a five mile radius from my home. I am always surprised at how quickly Queretaro is growing.

I'm a Superrama girl, so up until yesterday, I had never been to MEGA, which they just finished building about 5 months ago. The experience was amazing. When you get to MEGA, you notice that its a HUGE building with two floors. The first floor is a little shopping mall, galleria style, and the second floor is MEGA. To get to the second floor, you have to grab a shopping cart and make your way to this really long, steep escalator that has a no slip surface. You get on the escalator and slowly make your way up to the top. You can't push your cart and walk up the escalator rapidly, either, because the grips on the belt to the wheels of the shopping cart wont let you. You have to not move and make the slow ride up to the top. I felt like this little shopper on an assembly line, going to the factory to be assembled. Once you get to the top, they give you a map like you're in Disneyland, and that did it for me. Because of that map, I felt like I was on an adventure instead of doing boring grocery shopping.

Plus, inside MEGA is a little cafe next to the bakery, where you can take a break from the madness and have a cup of coffee or hot chocolate and read the paper, and so that is exactly what I did, and that is going to be my routine from now on. I am done with stressing myself out at the grocery store.

Best Name of the Month Awards

2008-06-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

The award for Best Name I've Heard This Month goes to:

Dikembe Mutombo Mpolondo Mukamba Jean-Jacques Wamutombo of the Houston Rockets.

And because he sounds exactly like Cookie Monster with just a touch of Yoda, he wins Best Voice of the Month, too. Here is an example. Its much better when he speaks in English but its the best sample I could find.

The winner for the female category of Best Name I've Heard This Month goes to:

Dra. Ladydiana Guitierrez Rodriguez of Michoacan, Mexico.

Unfortunately, I do not personally know Dr. Ladydiana but have been informed of her existence by excellent sources not known to lie. Therefore, the above representation is only a rough estimation of her physical appearance.

Late Night Conversations with CC

2008-06-14T10:07:00.000-07:00

Me: Yeah, but you know what's even sadder?
(Pause)
CC: Saturday

Today's Suicide Watch

2008-05-27T23:13:00.001-07:00

TIM DUNCAN

Despite being Tim Duncan, He always looks so sad.

Transplant

2008-05-21T10:54:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a very strange dream.

I was in the backseat of my mother's car, laying down, and my mother was driving. My sister was in the front seat and explaining the details of the medical procedure I was about to have. She then leaned over and put this thing in my mouth that looked like an inhaler for asthmatics, but it had this long connector thing that she pushed up into my mouth and down my throat. In case this isn't obvious, as it was to me in my dream, she was giving me anesthesia for the operation that we were traveling to. I had the feeling that for some reason, I had done something to interfere with the anesthesia's effectiveness and decided to worry about it later.

We pull up to the operation site, which turns out to be a Chinese androgynous person sitting on a little stool outside of an Oxxo or am/pm or one of those sleazy mart convenience stores and I get the feeling that he or she or it is my doctor and the operation that I'm about to have is some type of eastern new-age homeopathic procedure. In front of him, laying on the floor on a red blanket are his tools, scalpels and rusty looking sewing needles and blades and even a thimble, and I worry about infection. My sister tells me not to worry.

The doctor tells me to lay down on the ground and I do, but I tell him that I can still feel my stomach (interesting) and I imagine him slicing it open with the rusty blade. He tells me not to worry, and then tells me that he's already halfway done. I look up and see him holding my brain in his hands. He lets me look at it for a moment and I see that it is really gray and disgusting looking matter. There are scars all over it and holes in it and suddenly I feel very excited. I'm getting rid of this faulty brain and getting a brand new one.

A brain analyst comes out of the am/pm and hands a piece of paper to the doctor, and then walks back inside the store. The doctor looks at the paper for a moment and then shows it to me. Its a brain evaluation that they've just done on my brain, and the doctor points to areas on the paper, proving that the brain transplant had been absolutely necessary. I remember only one point from the printout: my IQ was only 90.

So the doctor shows me my new brain, which is huge and shiny and pink and throbbing like a heart in his hand. I'm ecstatic now, as I compare the brains side by side and see that my new one is going to be much, much better. But then I panic, there's something wrong. If the old brain is there and the new one is right next to it, what's inside my head right now?

So I ask the doctor, and he tells me that they haven't finished the procedure yet, but not to worry. You can still think, can't you? He asks. I think about it and realize that I can. I think, 2+2 is 4, 4+4 is 8, 8+8 is 16, 16+16 is 32, 32+32 is 64, yeah, I can still think.

Mysterious

2008-05-13T16:04:00.000-07:00

It had just happened. Jimmy was too late to see it, arriving to the town square just a moment too late (from what he could surmise). He heard the screams before he’d seen the cause of them: the body of a man in a gray suit and tie lay dead in a pool of his own blood on the concrete of the square, directly in front of the very office building that Jimmy was going to.
“There’s a word for this, you know,” a man said loudly to the crowd that had gathered around the dead man. “It’s Defenestration.”
“No, it's Tragedy,” a very fat woman retorted, her hands on her large hips and her face screwed up into a grimace. “This kind of accident doesn’t need a fancy word to explain itself.”
“An accident?” the man gave a short laugh. “This man was defenestrated. Which means that somebody pushed him out of that open window on the twelfth floor. This was not an accident.”
The woman, wide eyed, looked up at the window and back at the man. “How do you know he didn’t jump, or fall out accidentally?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The man asked impatiently.

Restaurant Review

2008-04-20T19:14:00.000-07:00

On Friday night CC took me out to dinner. We were going to go to Rosso, which is our favorite restaurant in Queretaro, but we've been there a million times before. Lately, they've been erecting restaurants like crazy here and we're a little behind on trying them out, so we decided to go to this restaurant called Equinoxio totally based on looks. We love trying out fancy restaurants and Equinoxio took the cake for being fancy looking. So we went.

Once inside, we realize that the food is this weird french-Mexican Indian fusion and that the chef got way too creative with the dishes. Basically, all the dishes were traditional Aztec or Yucatan or Oaxacan cuisine (think like chiles and nopales and even Cuitlacoche, which is literally diseased corn) fused with high end french food. The mix sounds like a terrible idea and even though Im usually so open with trying new foods, I couldn't decide on ANYTHING. So finally I settled on Baby Lobster with Fettuccine. I'd never heard of baby lobsters but I like lobster and love fettuccine. It was really the only thing that sounded at all edible. CC played it safe as usual and got steak.

So Im starving and the food takes forever to come, and when it does, the waiter places it down with a flourish in front of me and I look down at it and seriously almost start to cry. Im so hungry and we're at this fancy restaurant and I am unable to eat what they just served me.

Sitting on top of a bed of plain fettuccine noodles in some kind of beige butter sauce, are two crawdads.

For most of my childhood life, I lived on Bear Creek. On Bear Creek, we had a little canal that ran across our property. In the summertime it would fill with water and frogs, minnows, tadpoles, the occasional fish, and hundreds and hundreds of crawdads. My dogs would catch them and bite off their claws and eat them. The thought of eating one is equivalent to eating a cockroach. It's something I would never dream of doing. I know that people do eat them. But to me, they're a nasty nasty creature that grows in disgusting places like Bayous of dirty still standing mud water and in Bear Creek, where I believe they once found a three eyed monster fish.

Anyway, CC didnt believe me and thought I was being a huge drama queen. So we took them home and I showed him online what crawdads are (they dont exist in these parts) and he was finally also disgusted. Then I served them to Pippen and he didn't even want to eat them.

CC said that Equinoxio will fool 99 percent of the people who go in there into thinking that they're eating "baby lobsters". Maybe they think that's what they are serving. I should have said something but I think I'll write a letter instead.

Jack Dogger Disciplined

2008-04-15T11:47:00.000-07:00

Last night Pippen got in big trouble. We took him to the park. It was late, around 10pm and nobody was around, so he was having a lot of no-leash fun as usual. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a chocolate lab puppy of about 10 months appeared on a leash and attached to him an owner. The chocolate lab puppy was really cute and happy, just kind of bouncing along, and then Pippen and the puppy saw each other. CC told Pippen to come, but instead, Pippen decided to attack the puppy and pin him to the ground while making scary growling noises. CC went to separate the dogs (the other dog was still on the leash and the owner looked petrified), and grabbed Pippen by the collar and spanked and verbally abused him all the way home. CC was pissed and Pippen was not allowed to come inside the house for about an hour. Now, Pippen is grounded until further notice. No more trips to the park.

I never, ever would have suspected Pippen to show signs of aggression towards anything except maybe a cat or a bird. Least of all not a dog, unless he was provoked and the dog was trying to fight him. I still think that the cute little brown lab said something derogatory to Pippen in dog language and he had no choice but to defend his honor-- that's the only explanation that makes any sense since Pippens is such a nice dog.

I think he deserves another chance. After all, this is his first strike. But CC is still very angry with Pippen. We are currently in talks over his future.

The only good thing out of all of this is that now we know that Pippen isn't as gay as we thought he might be, because of the fact that he only lifts his leg to relieve himself about 40 percent of the time.

Scientific Study

2008-04-08T13:58:00.000-07:00

Directional Tail Waggage in Canines,
A Study:

It has been reported that dogs wag their tails to the right when they're feeling positive about someone or something, and to the left when they feel negatively about that someone or something. Right Brain Left Brain bla bla bla science. If this is indeed fact, will our cute little science experiments express their cute little emotions negatively or positively towards the cute little testing engineer? (Me)

*Full Tail Required to Participate as subject in this experiment
**I have left 3rd testing subject Suki out of this experiment, because stub movement is unreliable; suki is unable to produce full waggonal movement.

Hypothesis: Owners will walk into a room where the subjects will be and repeat their names over and over again in high pitched "baby talk" voices, which will result in significant right sided tail waggage. Test subject B predicted to show less right side waggage than subject A, Or, both A & B will produce 100% right-side waggage no left-side waggage whatsoever.

THE SUBJECTS:

A: Pepe Le Pieu
B: Daisy Mae

Notes: Theres lots of fluffy fur on subjects making it difficult to observe straightness of tail. Any freak tail curvature might taint results. And its pretty hard to get them wagging their tails (especially A) long enough without either A) test subject A Barking and backing up slowly, shaking its small, hair-framed head side to side with each bark, blocking view of rear view tail wag thats diminishing anyway on account of the barking (negative Reaction? Not likely) B) Test Subject A rushing at your feet and jumping up on your knees, demanding to be pet and to be given all attention, and refusing to wag tail if said attention is not given and standing still without wagging while receiving attention C) Test subject B running at your knees and running away again or backing up all hesitantly and sitting down and doing short brisk tail flips (to the significant right, but tail flips are not currently accepted as conclusive to the study). Scientist suggests using 2 scientists to conduct this experiment, one to interact with subjects and the other to watch and record wag movement.

RESULTS: Subject A produced significant left-sided tail wag and no right side tail wag in any of the trials. Tester feels this could be from the aggression the subject may have felt in fighting for total attention from experiment engineer/scientist against his competition: the tall leggy blonde subject B. In contrast, Subject B displayed an abundance of right-wag and body wriggle and absolutely no noted left-wag at all during the trials.

Unexpected Variable: When Father of genius experiment engineer/scientist (variable) entered testing site (the kitchen) and called out "Anybody want Chinese Food", engineer scientist noted subject A skulk away from kitchen and towards the front door, wagging his tail to the left while skulking away. When G.E. Engineer scientist extraordinaire went to said kitchen to serve herself said chinese food, the G.E.E.S.E. perceived immediately that the variable seemed to be exhibiting hypoglycemic behavior (a downward moodswing). At this point, subject B was nowhere in sight and when located was observed not wagging tail but sitting quietly watching the house from a significant distance.

Conclusion: Subject A hates everyone. Subject B loves everyone. Inconclusive results. Test subjects must be subjected to more tests. Uncontrolled environment.

Percent Error:

(50 - 45)

Percent Error = -------------------------------------------------- 1

x100%

=500% Error

Cooking and Infidelity

2008-04-08T13:00:00.000-07:00

So today la Señora officially became my cooking instructor/cook in addition to being my cleaning lady. I asked her to show me how to make enchiladas, and then she did, and they turned out to be the best enchiladas that I have ever tasted in my whole entire LIFE. CC said that we should pay her extra for that, so that's what we're going to do.

So that's good, and little does she know that while she's teaching me to cook, she's also giving me SPANISH CLASSES (score). She talks a LOT, and I mostly just sit there and listen. Today she told me a story

about how she was working for this family that lived here in downtown Queretaro and one day the lady of the house asked her if she would accompany her to Mexico City for a doctor's appointment because her husband was working and she didn't want to go alone and the Señora said well I can't because I need to take care of my kids and I can't be gone all day long from 6AM until 1 or 2AM in the night. But the señora was desperate, so she begged and begged her to try to work it out because she really needed to go to the doctor, and so finally the Señora agreed. The next day she went to work and they got in the car and drove to Mexico City, and when they got there, the lady said "Look, I lied to you. I'm not here to see the doctor, I'm meeting a man. He's arriving at the airport in half an hour and I'm going to pick him up, and then we're going to go to a hotel. I'm going to drop you off at the park. I'll pick you up at 5pm." So she dropped her off at the park and so the Señora had to wait. She waited, and waited, and finally the lady showed up at the park at 9PM. Then they drove back home and that was it.

I just really can't believe that someone would make this sweet little old lady wait all by herself in a Mexico City park for so many hours with absolutely nothing to do. It's not like she reads, and since Mexico City is so dangerous, it's not like she could really explore the city, so I'm guessing that she just sat there for ten hours straight and only moved to find a restroom. And maybe to eat something on the street. I don't know. Selfish Ho.

My Dog, Pippen

2008-03-26T16:10:00.000-07:00

My dog Pippen deserves a post. There's a lot to say about him.

First, My dog Pippen has a ton of nicknames. We call him

Pippens

Chickens

Trickens

Frickens

Rickens

The Baby

Richard Parker

Jack Dogger
Jessica

Pippen will eat anything. Once, when he was in pain, and I was too lazy to go downstairs and crush up his tylenol and mix it up into his food, I discovered that I didn't have to do all that. Pippen will gladly eat straight non-chewable tylenol like it's candy. He licked the floor when he was done so that he could get all the tylenol that fell out of his mouth while he was chewing. He also loves chewable antacids (who doesn't, though) and will come running when he hears the shake of the container. We give him one now and then because it's so funny.

He also eats frozen strawberries, bananas, and whole cucumbers. Anything.

CC and I had a conversation the other day on how much money we would sell Pippen for. I admitted that I would sell Pippen only to a farm with a good family where he would be happy, for 50,000. CC was much cheaper, he said he would sell him for 10.

Pippen's best feature is his Lip Curtain. When he thinks something is fun, he tucks it in so he looks like he's trying to smile. When he eats, it puffs out, like this:

Cheers!

Through the Looking Glass

2008-02-29T10:42:00.000-08:00

`The horror of that moment,' the King went on, `I shall never, never forget!'
`You will, though,' the Queen said, `if you don't make a memorandum of it.'

Stranger in Strangerville

2008-02-18T10:16:00.000-08:00

A Love Story

Once upon a time there was a man who nobody knew. His father had never known him and his mother had died when he was younger. Because they lived in a house in the middle of nowhere that nobody owned, the man just kept on living there after she died and nobody knew the difference. He could read and write and he ate squirrels and nuts and drank water from the spring. He knew how to do all of these things because his mother taught him when she was still living.
But then the man started getting restless, though he knew not why: he liked his life and didn't need anything else, or so he thought. What he didn't understand was that the restlessness he felt came from the simple and oh so controversial need to multiply.
And so one day he left and came upon the town of Strangerville. Everybody in Strangerville was a stranger. Sometimes they were strangers because they were exconvicts or pedophiles, and sometimes they just didn't like other people. The man fit into Strangerville like a glove and so was welcomed to Strangerville with open arms, or rather, closed doors, but the man didn't know the difference because he wasn't looking for anyone, unless it was female, and he didn't really know anything about that anyway.
One day a poor woman from the hills of Normalacia came to his home and knocked on the door. She had knocked on everyone else's door in the neighborhood but nobody had answered, because they were Strangervillians. But the man answered, because he didn't know about door knocks as a form of communication and thought that there might be a squirrel cracking nuts on his doorjamb. Or something. So he opened the door carefully and with a mallet in his hand, ready to catch his dinner, but it wasn't dinner, it was a woman wanting to clean his house.
She asked to come in and was surprised to hear his voice, high and not unlike the sound of broken harmonicas because it was horribly untrained. But she was used to accents down in the Normalacia valleys, and still wanted to clean his house.The man didn't understand why someone would want to clean his house, but he said okay because he liked the idea for some reason. The woman got to work right away and was surprised at his lack of furniture, toilet paper, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste or toothbrush, refrigerator, trash cans, trash, stove, clothing, but was familiar with the skinned squirrels hanging on hooks in the kitchen and his homemade soaps.

The woman cleaned the floors until they shone and since that was pretty much all there was to do, offered to roast the squirrels in the fireplace for his dinner. The man was surprised again, but shook his head jerkily, yes.When the squirrels were done, the woman packed her cleaning supplies, looked around the empty house and at the man who hadn't really moved from the doorway since she arrived, and sighed. The man didn't stir, so she sighed again, louder this time. The man stared at her curiously.

"Well my work is lookin quite done here," she said, and then sighed again.

"Indeed!" He squeaked.

They stared at each other.

"I'm a be headin' back now," she said, her eyes flickering to the door.

But she didn't move.The man, wide eyed, was jerking his head in small movements to stare for longish intervals on different sectors of the woman's dress and didn't wonder what she was waiting for. He did wonder why she said she was leaving. The man had only ever met his mother before, so by that experience he resolved that the lady who cleaned would stay there till she died.

It was getting dark. The woman wondered if she should just leave, but she needed the money. If she didn't bring back her pay she'd be beaten gravely by her step daddy, Carl, who was surely moonshined to high heavens by now-- she'd spied Uncle Jim and Uncle Willy's big yellow truck parked out in front that morning while heading out to Strangerville.

So she stood there and let out a few more sighs-- long, exaggerated sighs, which she thought garnered no reaction from the man (who, if she had asked him, would have had trouble responding given the reactions that had been garnered) and then finally gave up and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, welcoming herself to a share of the squirrel dinner she'd prepared for him. After a long while, he came and sat down next to her and she fixed him a plate, and they ate together like famished swine.

It was too dark for the woman to go back now, and so they fell asleep there on the floor, in front of the fire, curled against each other in an S.

The accent was what killed me

2008-01-17T20:50:00.000-08:00

Last night in the middle of the night, this conversation took place. Im guessing it was around 4AM.

Me: CC? Hey, CC
CC: Hm
Me: CC... I can't sleep
CC: (without even a hint of hesitation) You ever try counting borregos?
Me: No.
CC: Imagine a fence, with borregos, and everybody's jumping
Me: . . .
CC: snore zzzz

2008-01-14T16:29:00.000-08:00

Today I made Red Snapper a la Veracruzana from the Epicurious website and my maid and I bonded and she showed me how to make rice. Im glad that we bonded, but now that she's my new best friend, she got the courage to ask me what she's been wanting to ask me for a month: Can she bring her six month old baby and three year old son to work with her? I had to say yes.

CAPITAL

2007-12-04T14:14:00.000-08:00

We didn't end up going to Lake Zirahuen, which is too bad, because I love it there, but we did go on a little vacation to Patzcuaro and Morelia and it was actually fun, even though I thought it was going to be so boring since we weren't going to LAKE ZIRAHUEN as I was promised. I actually didn't want to go on the vacation, so I was falsely promised Lake Zirahuen.

We went to Patzcuaro in the first place because CC's dad entered a 50 years old and over basketball tournament, and his team was representing the great state of Queretaro. They were the suckiest team on the tournament, no question. Every time they played they got beaten by at least 50 points. They also were the only team without proper uniforms, and most of the other teams had matching bags and warm-ups and were sponsored by Coke or Wonderbread. Team Queretaro had on San Antonio Spurs jerseys bought last minute, probably from La Cruz or some other outdoor flea market. It was fun watching the games though, and some teams were really, really good. But, I NEVER WANT TO SEE another over 50 year old man's body again..... How shamelessly they ripped off their shirts to change into their uniforms right in front of everyone. Just because you're playing basketball doesn't mean you're an athlete, and Im mostly talking about Team Queretaro, unfortunately. WHO EVER SAID THAT MEN GET BETTER LOOKING AS THEY AGE??? Not True. Thank God.

So anyway, we lasted a couple of days in Patzcuaro, and then we went and hung out in Morelia again, and I love Morelia because in Morelia you get to eat GAZPACHOS. Gazpachos are made up of finely diced jicama, mango, pineapple and orange, then they put queso cotija with red chile all over it and they give it to you in a cup. There's this famous story about this little man who started out with a cart of fruit on the street and now its this big mega business and he's a millionaire because his gazpachos are that good. They are good, and thats where we go to get them, but I see no signs of him being a millionaire. He's probably got lots of money, but we're in Mexico where "really good money" means 12,000 pesos a month. Mexicans are always bragging about some guy who has worked his way up from selling something on a street corner, but those stories, like all stories, tend to be exaggerated.

That night we stayed in Cuitleo, a tiny little pueblo surrounded by this lake. CC's cousin Daniel lives there with his family and he went out and picked us up to spend the night at his house, which we have never been to. We also got to see his kids, and on the way there CC found a phone in the car and he gave it to his cousin, who then gave it back to me and told me to give it to his nine year old daughter as a present. He was like, if you give her that present, she will love you forever. His kids are so cute and they hung out with us for a while. It was 2 AM and the kids were still hanging out with us and we all played Operation. So I gave Daniela the phone, which turned out to be the cheapest, most horrible phone you can ever imagine. I didnt even know that phones like that existed. She was SO EXCITED about it and kept asking me questions, like, where's the charger? Where's the manual? Is this a joke phone? Because it doesnt look like a real one. I kept thinking to myself, God, that phone is garbage. No wonder your father didnt want to be responsible for getting you that.
But she still loved it and early the next day she gets her dad to buy her a charger, and it's charging, and she asks me where the menu is. This phone doesnt even have a menu. Well it does, but its like, the worst menu on the planet. She asks me if it has a camera. At this point, Im like, ask your uncle. Ask your uncle. Ask your uncle.

Oh, and I almost, almost went to a Pelea de Gallos. Pretty soon. I know I'll hate it but I have this strong need to experience the misery at least once.

Turkey

2007-11-26T09:29:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving, and since nobody celebrates it here, I decided to make my own, only that Friday, naturally, because my decision to "cook a turkey", as my husband CC puts it, was intelligently made very late at night that Thursday and I have no patience and move like a insane fish when I've got an endeavor.

We went out and bought a 14 pound turkey at Walmart and I downloaded a recipe off Epicurious. We informed everyone of the Thanksgiving dinner that would be held the next night and of course I blew it up and made it a huge deal, biggest party of the year.

I came home and excitedly started to brine my turkey. I was following the directions from my recipe, but mid-brine process, something just didn't feel right. I trusted my killer instincts and went and called my Mom, who laughed at me and asked me if I bought my turkey frozen. Appalled, I said yes, and added that just because I am in Mexico does not mean that we buy all of our meat straight out of the slaughterhouse. We do have supermarkets, and nice ones, I said. She laughed again and said, "No, it's just that it takes 3-4 days to defrost a turkey. You can't have your Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, sweetie."

So I had to WAIT. It's excruciating to have to wait for something, and at that point I hated turkey and thanksgiving and was already on to something else, WRITING A MYSTERY NOVEL like Patricia Highsmith or Paul Auster, specifically Paul Aster because I just started "City of Glass" and it's inspired me.

It's about a man named Quinn who is a writer of mystery novels. Quinn accidentally becomes involved in a mystery himself when he answers the phone and it's people looking for Paul Auster to do some detective work, and he accepts, to make his life more exciting, and impersonates his own character that he's created for his mystery novels, Max Work, who is a private eye, but at the same time pretending to be Paul Auster, the person who really writes about him. So cool.

Anyway, since I invited the whole world to my in-law's house for Thanksgiving dinner, I had to make the turkey, so I was obligated to go all out on it once it defrosted (on SUNDAY). Turns out that I make the world's best turkey. OH and I started a tradition. I also made a new tradition with my mashed potatoes with Manchego cheese and chipotle, which is my own creation.

(It's waving hello!)

Research

2007-11-22T10:01:00.000-08:00

I just got back from getting coffee at Italian Coffee Company. I got an espresso and started putting the top on it and accidentally knocked it over all over the front counter. I started apologizing and even helped clean up a little bit and kept saying "Perdon, perdon, disculpame" like an idiot, and NOBODY said anything, not ONE person said a thing, like, it's ok, or, don't worry, or, I hate you... nothing. They just shot nasty looks at me out of the corners of their eyes with their mouths shut in tight little straight lines. The manager lady did ask me if I got burned, but when I said "oh no, not at all, I just feel so sorry that I knocked over that coffee" she averted her eyes and said nothing else. The employees at Italian Coffee Company need a seminar in "How to Make a Person Feel Nice While Buying Coffee and not GUILTY about BEING ALIVE" and "How Feeling Great to be Alive in Italian Coffee Company Promotes Comsumer Loyalty".

OH-- and THEN since everyone was so busy ignoring my empty drink, I asked the girl if she would make me another one, and she said yes, and then the manager charged me for it. and since I was already feeling guilty about being alive and all, I paid.

I forget... but I think in Starbucks or anywhere that sells coffee in the US will get you another espresso if you spill it all over the counter, free of charge, right? I mean, now I don't want to go back there because of the bad experience and the way that the goddamn baristas made me feel all suicidal and all, and for just a smile and a "no problem" and a free refill for being an idiot would have made me a customer for life.

But maybe that was the point. After all, the baristas there don't rake it in, so whats one less troublesome customer to them? Less work, and I don't blame them.

I wonder if it is possible that they pick up on the fact that when I see them I feel sorry for them that they're working at such a shitty job at shittier wages, and the guilt I feel that I'm not working at anything and that I do whatever I want all day everyday. I wake up when I want to and I have no real responsibilities.

Maybe they pick up on that and that's why I get treated poorly wherever I go... perhaps. I did notice that if I act like a bitch I get better customer service, whereas if I treat them nicely I get treated like a bitch. Odd... Needs more research. The Research shows that I'm right, thus far.

Cultural Etiquette Lesson for the Day: Why the Statement "invite all your computer programming friends" is Morally Wrong

2007-11-14T16:21:00.000-08:00

In parts of the English-speaking world and in the entire Eastern European country of Bulgaria, popular culture has deemed it taboo to speak in wide, sweeping generalizations about people who are known to Hax0r the planet on a regular basis. Therefore, the statement "invite all your computer programmer friends" is a sickening display of demeaning insensibility, because in it you assume that the person in question has programmer friends, just because he hax0rs the planet all the time, which may not be necessarily true. It also suggests that the said Hax0r has a boring life, which he most likely does not, although that he might not should never be determined, either, as it is in itself yet another disgusting assumption of the worst kind.

Remember, when you ASSUME, you make an ASS out of U and ME.

Stealing

2007-11-14T15:23:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that crime is steadily seeping out of the Distrito Federal and into the lovely city in which I live at a rapid pace. Today on the nearest main street from my home, two men held a car up that was sitting in traffic and demanded that one of the passengers give him his watch. Rumor has it that it was a Rolex, which I HIGHLY doubt. But anyway, the guy said No, and they responded by shooting him twice, I'm not sure where, and then they ripped his watch off of his wrist. The guy driving the car tried following the guys but when the coldblooded culprits realized that they were being tracked, they shot at them and the robbed and bloody people stopped their chase and the perpetraitors got away with their fake Rolex, free and clear.

My car was stolen outside of my apartment complex here two years ago in the middle of the night. The surveillance cameras captured a funny video of it being stolen and leaving the street in fast motion but the video failed to show the perp's face or even his figure. It was partially my own fault because I left it out on the street in front instead of in the underground parking lot. Luckily the car was only used as a getaway car or something because the police found it unscathed and abandoned in the middle of nowhere about six months later. They probably had something to do with it, but I don't care, because it was returned.

I am now banned from giving pesos to beggars or their children while stopped in traffic or to accept flyers from anyone or to have my windows down at all or to wear any of my Rolexes when I drive.

Reincarnation

2007-11-02T15:01:00.000-07:00

I thought long and hard about reincarnation last night, and as everyone else who has ever thought about it, I had fun flattering myself over and over as I tried to figure out who I used to be. Exhilirating, yet exhausting. I must have suffered greatly, because I don't suffer in this lifetime. Sometimes I wish I did, then I'd have something to write about.

It came down to this: I was either Virginia Woolf, Marguerite Duras, Jean Rhys, or James Baldwin. I most definitely was not Tolstoy, or Jane Austen, or a Bronte. And I most definitely was not anything but a literary genius.How great does it feel to tell yourself that you matter as a writer, in any way you possibly can? When the little voice that never dies trashes what you know is good and denounces it as hopeless, doesn't it help to shut it up by shoving the fact that you were once Ernest Hemingway in its ugly little face? After all, any reincarnate of any literary genius is still a literary genius. Everyone knows that.

Halloween

2007-10-30T17:57:00.000-07:00

Last year, for Halloween, I dressed up as Samara. It was a genius costume. I had on a black wig with long slimy hair, white makeup with black circles under the eyes, a white plain dress that was really a nightgown that I bought at Chedraui for 5 bucks, white knee socks and black mary janes. I looked like death. But that wasn't the genius part: I made a TV and wore it around my shoulders like I was coming out of it. The TV was crafted out of a box I found at my old apartment and I attached a real TV antenna to it, and wrote the word SONY on the bottom. Genius. Everyone thought it was hysterical and I won, of course. It was so successful that my friend and old roommate is going to make a Samara costume this year and wear it to her work, because they're having a costume contest and she's going to win a cash prize. Of course she'll win.

Last year, CC's best friend went as CC. He wore a gross mask that didn't even look like him and tied a preppy hey buffy sweater around his neck. Nobody laughed, lame. So this year, CC says he's going to the party as his best friend, as revenge. He's going to stuff his stomach and make a beer belly and somehow fake a receding hairline (all exaggerated, of course) and draw a massive fake tattoo on his arm thats all messed up because he got laser removal that wasn't 100% effective. Because this friend of his is an alcoholic and his beverage of choice is beer, I had the suggestion that I go as a human beer bottle (indio) and that CC can walk around hanging on to me all night.

Here is a preliminary sketch of my costume.