RESACAS MORALES / MORAL HANGOVERS

Some Time Ago.

2010-09-13T13:27:00.003-04:00

I used to tell you stories once. I know, this is probably a part of me you don't know, but we used to be close. I like to think we're close now - it gives me an illusion of comfort, a feeling that I'm not so damaged and haven't done so wrong - but we don't need to kid ourselves here.. You've left, and I can only hope you come back one day. Ironic, how I find my actions so indefensible that I get mad when someone rationalizes them.

At the beginning, I would cradle you in my arms and confess. Id tell myself you would be the only one who knew everything about me, and I would repeat my story out loud, over and over. I'd start by telling you stories of my childhood, describing the nights spent in my parent's roof deck in Santo Domingo, how I was the only child amidst adults. We'd sit by the fire of a grill in the warm nights, and I could smell the ocean, and seasonings I have never been able to replicate. I watched consistently, seeking approval, not knowing from whom. I saw how Amy, the wife of my dad's best friend, chewed the food sideways, slowly, and beautifully. I remembered phrases that everyone laughed at, and I still say them to this day: "if you weren't a communist in your 20's you were never young; if you are a communist after them, you haven't grown up". I mimicked movements, reactions, and soon everything began to feel like a farce. The goal was to appear an intelligent girl, mature for her age, and I did well. Unfortunately, I found myself unable to escape it. I developed a deep shame because of my falsehood, a fear of being unmasked for the actress I was. Then I strived to become invisible, and eventually, I did well too.

But that's not what I talked to you about, not the feelings. I would talk about how I thought I was invincible before I met you. I would ride in the back of motorcycles, curly strands of my own hair and bugs slapping against my face and sunglasses, high speeds, no helmet, no fear. I did so well at becoming invisible as a pre-teen that I didn't see myself. I didnt imagine death, because as a teen, it was an impossibility: dying was for the weak. But I would tell you more than that: I spoke for hours, all night, because you'd stay up. I told you the REAL truth about my trip across a land you didnt know back then. I told you the truth about my courage: I was brave, but only because I was too scared to be a coward.

I told you my story because telling your story allows you to become objective, hear how it sounds, try to fix it. I always ended on the story of how I met your father, and I apologized, and we cried together. I for my choice, you for the teeth you were starting to grow and I wouldn't get to see. I wondered out loud how it happened that when I had you, I started fearing death, and my knees got weak. I don't know what you wondered, you never said a thing. Somehow though, it didn't matter. I still felt like we were close.

5 things I'm glad I know at 30.

2010-05-19T00:05:00.001-04:00

1) I'm not a lesbian. Despite the fact that in society it is common nowadays to burn the match at both ends, I'm relieved to know and trust the fact that I, in fact, am attracted to men. It saves a lot of time and helps in discerning which people you like as friends, which people you like as more than that, and which people you would have sex with if the only life remaining on earth was them, a cactus and rabid dog.

2)Being drunk actually sucks. Having spent most of my youth drinking or during a hangover, I've come to the realization that being drunk is not much fun. You smell like gutter, you act dumber than a doorknob and you are prone to either being easily offended or never offended - which can prove a problem in both instances: either you accuse people of grabbing your ass when they say hi, or they grab your ass and you say hi and nothing more.

3)I actually care what my parents think. I make my breakfast in the morning, pay my rent, dress up my daughter, take her to school, wash my own dishes, solve my own problems, do my own laundry, and sleep with the people i see fit. But if my parents tell me to do or not do something, the least I do is stop and think about it. Yep.. I'm a hot turd, and proud of it.

4)Plants and pets need water. My daughter learned to speak a lot, fast and often. The reason was that if she didnt ask for something by name, chances were I'd change her diaper 6 times and give her milk 4 times, when in fact all she wanted was a toy. Plants and animals are not lucky enough to posess adjustable vocal cords, so instead they give you signs: plants get yellow, pets pass out. Unfortunately, unlike a child, by the time this happens it's probably too late. I'm glad that I've observed this in my vast travels throughout the world.

5)When you talk to yourself in the subway, making faces to play it off is not any better. Many times I remember a joke, or wonder what it'd be like if i start running around the car yelling "this little light of mine, i'm gonna let it shiiine", and i cant help but smile, only to notice that the people in the train are looking for the nearest exit. I used to try to play it off by pretending my nose was itchy, or i had facial paralisis. I am glad that I understand that this doesn't work, because at my age, I should have settled down to talking to myself in my car, while I pick my nose at the traffic lights.

2010-05-18T23:35:00.001-04:00

Havana Film Festival: The State of Latin American Cinema

2010-05-10T23:25:00.000-04:00

Making a movie is hard enough. In Latin American cinema, the filmmaker is faced with additional challenges that make this difficulty almost insurmountable. Political tensions, governments, the economy, social restrictions and lack of resources can constantly threaten to thwart progress. Now in its 11th successful year, the Havana Film Festival of New York is a welcome opportunity to screen some of the most influential and anticipated films by, about and with Latin Americans. I had the opportunity to screen 4 of those films, and left with the impression that more than a film festival, this was a showcase of groundbreaking accomplishments in the budding film industries of Latin America, and a way to assess where these industries stand in comparison to Europe, Asia and The United States.

Open from April 16th to the 23rd, this year's festival featured over 40 films shot mostly in spanish (shown with english subtitles), and from 15 countries. Additionally, in celebration of starting its second decade, HFF held its first juried competition, the Havana Star Prize, with 15 films competing for Best Film, Best Director and Best Screenplay awards, including the films I screened. Though some screenings and panel discussions were held in large, prestigious institutions -- the King Juan Carlos I of Spain Center, The Metropolitan Museum, El Museo del Barrio, the Director's Guild Theater, among many - the bulk of the films were shown in Manhattan's Greenwich Village, at the quaint and independent Quad Cinema. This felt appropriate somehow, and with the rest of the packed theater, I sat with my sugar-free sparkling fruit juice (they don't sell sodas), popcorn and eagerness to watch a good movie.

The first movie I saw was "Castro", an Argentinean adaptation of a Samuel Beckett novel, directed by Alejo Moguillansky. The film is about an exigent woman looking for her missing husband (Castro) with the help of three incompetent investigators, while Castro (who has escaped with a lover), tries to evade them. Set in a bleakly colored Buenos Aires, the film depicts the gritty nature of the low non-working class with unpolished on-foot chase scenes, long montages of running and walking between cars, and dark, dusty scenes. Though the plot itself was weak, the rapid, on-point dialogue and fast-paced editing made it a very interesting film to watch, if only because of the contrast of the two elements. This combination of thin plot and fast cutting made it seem as though there was a line of action the audience wasn’t privy to. Overall, between the color and cinematography, I gathered that this is a film about loneliness and despair (common themes in Samuel Beckett novels), which would mean this adaptation is successful. I would have liked to ask the director what his intention was for this film, because it was not readily evident, but he was the only one who didn’t show up to the scheduled Q & A. Ultimately, despite its good acting, witty dialogue and upbeat editing, the film could not escape the plot failures, and was not well received by the audience.

The next movie was Dioses Rotos (Broken Gods), a Cuban film directed by Ernesto Daranas depicting the values within the modern world of prostitution in Cuba, and how it is influenced by a Alberto Yarini, a famous pimp and political figure at the turn of the 20^th century. Footage from modern day Havana is not easy to come across, and the audience was glued to its seat as the cameras established beautiful shots of daily life in Cuba’s parks, ports and squares. The colors used were vivid, and even the peeling paint on the houses, rust-covered boats and winding streets looked beautiful in the Caribbean sun. Very modern, fast-paced editing - complete with effective, well-timed montages of life in Cuba – along with a very strong story and superb acting, made this film competitive with Hollywood and Europe. Actors were present at the Q & A, and as expected, the conversation quickly digressed from art to politics. It was a shame that these actors were bombarded with questions outside of their field. It was comparable to getting an interview with Al Pacino and making your first and only question "do you mind if I smoke?"

Hermaphrodite, the following film (guess what it’s about!), is a movie directed by Dominican filmmaker Albert Xavier. A touching story and believable acting made this ambitious film worth watching, specially when one considers it is one of the first in a country where the film industry is merely cracking the egg. However, all else fails when it is compared with the standards. While visually up to par with filmmaking standards, Hermaphrodite divides itself into incomprehensible chapters and is riddled with constant and unnecessary dips to black. Furthermore, transitions are the visual equivalent of coughing, most of the text is shown over a black background (shielding the audience form the action) and there are several grave camera discontinuity issues toward the end of the film. Even so, this film was shown to a packed audience and received a standing ovation, because of its notable accomplishments in a country with few filmmaking resources. The young director, Albert Xavier, was present for Q & A along with the main actors and spoke about the challenges of bringing in expensive film equipment to the Dominican Republic and securing permits, acquiring locations and finding security for his equipment and staff.

Mi3nt3 (Lie) was the last film, and a true pleasure to watch. Directed by Puerto Rican Rafi Mercado, already a live show and music video celebrity, this film featured a storyline comparable to “Fight Club” and visuals as astounding as “The Cell”. The beginning montage, with split screens and reflective surfaces, portrays the wandering of a beautiful woman in Puerto Rico’s underground nightlife and represents the duality of the characters, giving a hint of what will come in the rest of the film. Though the story alone sealed this film as an instant Latin American classic, the exceptional imagery took it a step further. Color was a huge component of this film: Mercado assigned a specific element to each of the characters and very subtly changed from water’s blues, fire’s reds and yellows, earth’s browns and air’s soft white, depending on who was the dominating character in each scene. The images below are examples of these instances.

Symbolism and imagination were also crucial parts of the storyline: hallucinations, cripples, one-eyed bartenders, paintings riddled with eyes (a well-known trait of schizophrenic delusions) all had a reason for being. Additionally, the characters, portrayed with relentless accuracy by the main actors (Oscar Guerrero & Frank Perozo) contributed to this film’s success.

In sections of his film where there were hallucinations, Mercado introduced costume design to tell part of the story. In the image below, for example, blood is portrayed as a silk fabric flowing out of a character's costume. This character specifically, (Jane) remains on a pedestal for the majority of her appearance, showing that she is, in fact, unreachable.

Very rarely does one see a film where every scene is well thought-out and executed by its makers. This was one of those instances, and hence, it exceeded the Hollywood standard. The icing on the cake was a very humble Rafi Mercado, who eloquently answered the questions in the Q & A and spoke of the challenges of making a film in comparison to his live shows and music videos, as well as explaining his intention to make a film set in Puerto Rico, but not drenched with the stereotypical postcard elements of the Caribbean island.

The Havana Film Festival also included a panel discussion on the state of filmmaking in Latin America and the Caribbean: I was unable to attend it, but judging from the movies I saw, there is some hope in the future. The films I saw are only a tenth of what was shown, but they are an accurate interpretation of how much the film industries vary by country. Argentina, known in the Latin American community for its strong film industry (most of it are in collaboration with Spain’s CanalPlus) has technical resources, but little backing for independent filmmakers. Cuba, whose film was backed by the Cuban Department of Art & Culture, boasts exceptional casting and top-of-the-line editing, though it must be taken into account that this film was made for exportation and paid for by the government. Dominican Republic, with no film industry to speak of, had a film written and directed by a U.S. educated filmmaker, who paid for by the film with loans and charmed his way into letting Panavision Miami waive a 2 million dollar insurance fee for the equipment: but even so, the film had technical and visual failures. Puerto Rico, a U.S. Territory, had challenges similar to those of making a film in the mainland: securing funding & distribution. So it isn’t only comparable to making an independent film in the US, it is making an independent film in the US – though it was filled with the culture and visual beauty of Latin America.

Winner of the Havana Star for Best Director, Rafi Mercado produced in “Lie” the future of Latin American cinema. This type of exceptional filmmaking is what other countries should strive for: capturing the culture with a story everyone can relate to regardless of nationality, and doing so meeting or exceeding industry standards. Luckily for New York, The Havana Film Festival will continue to showcase the progress of Latin American filmmakers toward this goal.

2010-04-16T23:43:00.000-04:00

The Hairdresser. Part One.

2010-04-02T00:16:00.003-04:00

I was once a normal girl, from a normal family, with normal aspirations. The only thing unique about me when I was younger was the amount of time I spent constantly thinking about hair. I often wondered whether I was alone in this, but the truth is, I would never dream of asking.

I remember being very small, when I saw a blond boy for the first time. I studied every layer of hair on his head, and wondered who would butcher his beautiful gold locks in such a way. I constantly imagined myself expertly trimming each strand, with a grace I was completely incapable of. Such was my guilt over this obsession, that as a young girl, I poured my little heart out in confession, and bartered with God, promising to stop if He granted me this or that. Time passed, and I don't remember much of it, but my obsession with hair grew stronger and more secretive. I would be riding a bus to school or taking English classes, and suddenly think: if I knew how to cut hair, I'd be thinking about how good it feels, right now.

When I grew enough, I would sometimes venture into hair salons and try to overhear details of their experiences with hairdressing. Some would say it was exhausting, some said it was boring, some said it was the best thing that ever happened to them: I honestly wasn't sure who to believe. I heard horror stories of first haircuts and I must admit I feared them, but I was convinced that this had to be my calling.

Some time later, when I was a teenager and rebelling against whatever was in style, I cut class and ventured off somewhere in Brooklyn. A friend took my to his house and in the midst of watching TV, I realized he was pulling at his hair. what an odd thing to do, I thought, and then asked him why he seemed so uncomfortable. When he explained his hair was bothering him, I almost shook with excitement. Trying to catch my breath, I considered what this could mean, and weighed the possibilities of actually doing it for the first time. As I gazed open-eyed, he looked at me with almost begging eyes and asked me: please... will you just trim it a little? I can barely concentrate on anything.

I agreed.

I grabbed the shears and slipped my fingers into the orifices, shaking violently, which was something he thankfully never noticed. He asked me "have you done this before?" and I lied, said "of course" and realized my lie had to seem believable. Amidst the shaking I had to pull myself together and do my duty.

So I did it.

I remember thinking, "THIS is it.. what I've wanted to do for so long.. THIS is what I want to spend the rest of my life doing, every day, forever". However, it was strange to think that while certainly enjoyable, there was no excruciating pleasure in cutting hair as I imagined. In fact, very little of what I imagined actually went on. I had been told that you always nipped your own skin when using shears for the first time, for example.. I was told that there is a moment of pure ecstasy when the world fades and you are alone with a head of hair. I didn't see the world fade. Quite the contrary, I was hyper-aware of everything, and hoped for this catharsis to happen. When I was done (or he told me that I was done), I started doubting myself.

Was there something wrong with me? was I somehow broken? Would I be able to do this again? and if so, when?

Little did I know what life had in store for me.

Terrorist Attack. 6 o'clock news.

2010-01-05T22:45:00.008-05:00

Horrified passengers were evacuated from a subway train yesterday after lack of surveillance and breach in security permitted a terrorist to enter into Manhattan's Brooklyn-bound D line.

The suspect, a 64 yr. old disabled man from Ponce, Puerto Rico, boarded the train with a small package between his legs and sat quietly most of the ride. Witnesses claim he seemed suspicious at first, but in comparison with the rush hour crowd, he quickly lost his thunder.

"I was looking at his crotch, alright. He done looked like he had some donkey balls, but I figured they was just saggy, cus he was O.D. old.. but then he turned around and thats when i noticed what it was" recalled Jane Spencer, a Martin Luther King High School senior aboard the train at the time.

Authorities declined to comment, but unofficial sources claim the man stood up from his seat, made a face and released a noxious gas along with a mass of unknown origin. Preliminary tests show that the toxin released was merely methane, not mustard gas as originally assumed by the color left behind on the seats.

Regardless of the nature of the chemical used, and over 200 people crammed into a car rushed to the closed doors on the opposite side of the wagon.

"Je ne comprend pas! Je vous deteste, idiot! Je ne parle pas langlais!" Exclaimed an outraged tourist, which we assume means he almost peed his pants in fear and he will sue the city for it.

A panel of specialists and MTA officials will meet tomorrow morning to determine the measures needed to prevent this attack to reoccurring. Additional funds will likely be allocated to double MTA's advertising of the "If You See Something, Say Something" campaign, where straphangers are encouraged to speak up when they see suspicious activities.

MTA President Norman Prendergast has assured this forum that this will NOT result in yet another fare hike to cover the world-famous deficit, though it is worth noting he winked and crossed his fingers as he said it, sparking the uproarious laughter from his colleagues.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-03T01:40:00.001-05:00

The Day After Tomorrow

2009-10-13T23:54:00.002-04:00

My name is Cristoforo Colombo, the date is October 13, 1492.

Whatever is left of my "sailors" and I have landed in an island we've decided to call San Salvador, though such a cheesy name isn't meant to last two months among these people.. I'll bet they come up with something difficult to pronounce like Ba-ha-ma or something like that. But anyway, the people here seem nice enough, Rodrigo de Triana managed to get a bj from one of the locals already, and they've given us food and shelter, since some idiot actually forgot to tie up Santa Maria.. I had to send 12 men to go swim after the ship and bring it back, and believe me, if it was up to me I'd lose the ship and have them all drown.

If I die from syphilis or any of the other diseases so rampant in my ships, whoever finds this diary please tell my dear queen Isabel that she is a f*cking moron for sending me out with these inmates. Retarded monkeys could have been more useful. Half of them died getting ON the ship when we left Puerto de Palos! it's a goddamn miracle we've made it this far! but I digress.

Back to this place. I do believe this may be, in the future, a good tourist destination. I have noticed that in European cities women cover their mammaries and consider virtue a sacred thing. Here, the women go around naked wearing nothing but a string buried in their crotches, and are so gullible that half the sailors have gotten to finger them pretending thats the way we say hello. I think European folks like myself would pay sacks of gold for this kind of environment. Seriously, it may be the heat, but summer in the canaries can surely get as hot as this and I've never seen women wear this thing.. less than a thing.. a thong.. yeah, I think I'll keep that name... Thong.

So another thing that I've noticed is that these people are wearing some gold around their necks and ears, which seems strange since the Vatican hasn't smelled it yet. Perhaps it's a new kind of gold, but in any case, I think I'll take a few samples and a few of these guys to wear it so the pope can get a sniff and follow it home, that way we can use him as a guide and get straight here on the next voyage. "Next Voyage?" you say? well of course.. I like it here and all, and hope to come back soon, but I am leaving to Spain the day after tomorrow: if I get bitten by one more mosquito I think my calves will explode. Besides, I miss my wife. These women here may be hot and all, but they don't know shit about washing men's stockings. Maybe I'll take one or two to teach them how to do that too.

Till next time..

Cry

2009-10-13T01:26:00.003-04:00

It's a top secret meeting in the Justice League headquarters, and Colin Powell is late dropping off Reno, Bush and Obama. Already impatient, Batman takes off the mask and wipes his brow, leaving a smudge of the black makeup he uses to conceal the part of his eyes that is visible through the eye holes.

"what do you think is keeping them?" asked Aquaman to Wonderwoman, who calmly knitted a blanket to her boyfriend that read "Captain Obvious". She liked resisting, but she was head over heels over the guy.

"who knows?!" responded Wolverine for her, smiling, but no one paid attention. Ever since he came to HQ, sandwiches had gone missing in the fridge, so nobody liked him: all except for tuna, and everyone knew he didn't like fish.

"Maybe they ran into archenemies" interjected Hawkman . "Everybody knows joker is kicking ass these days. I heard he dumped Osama and in InStyle & Star, I saw some pics of him hanging out with Kim Jong-il at Le Trapeze. Bawwwk!"

"yo, why you gotta be such a douche!? why you even read that junk is beyond me! you know damn well they said aquaman was gay in that ass wipe of a paper!" said Green Lantern.

"Thanks, Hal!" said aquaman with a wink.

"can y'all stop being gay?" said Superman, in a really nasal voice. He'd started dating this chick from Queens that insisted he should get a nose job. Rumors are he had to become human for the operation which was fine by him, since all he needs to do is get laid.. "Flash, can you head out and find out what happened?"

Half a second later, Flash is doubled over in laughter, tears running down his face. "Speak!" said Thor, who was eavesdropping as he picked up the garbage.

"they were on the way here, and Colin brought up a who's hot topic.. Apparently Obama said Beyonce and Shakira. and maybe Jennifer Biel if she wasn't so white. Bush said there were some cute white girls running around and brought up Ann Coulter. Thats when the fistfight started. Reno fainted again, you know how she is...Colin tried to break it up but Obama started saying 'King Kong ain't got nothin on me' and threatened to bring his boys. it quieted down, but now they're all making it look like they had a little fender bender so the media doesn't lay an egg.. they asked superman to go and punch their car or something"

"aw Damn.. i cant help Batman, can you go for me? I have this nose thing going on.."

"Fine" Batman said, wiping his brow again and sliding his mask back on. He started calculating the size, angle and velocity of the mass he needed to use to back up the story, when a single thought came over him.

"all this money and the best friends I could buy were these guys?... might have just as well died instead of my father that night".. and as he remembered the night, tears rolled down his face unreservedly.

pics

2009-07-27T02:28:00.001-04:00

http://www.flickr.com/photos/29335284@N02/show/

What I've been up to

2009-07-27T00:20:00.002-04:00

As you may have noticed, I have been absent for a while in the blogosphere, and since some of you stubborn souls still visit this page after I've forgotten about it, I think it is only fair that I give you an update on what's been going on with me lately.

Zuri graduated Kindergarten.. yipee! My midget knows how to read and write like the best of 'em, and she insists on proving it to me every night at story time. I've begun to appreciate Dr. Seuss in ways I've never thought possible. You gotta admit, the man writes a hilarious story. In Green Eggs and Ham, for example, did you know that Sam-I-am actually ends up convincing the guy to try the green eggs and ham? talk about selling power.
Anyways, I'm not sure if she'll go to public school again this year. It all depends on what kind of job she gets this summer. I told her that she needs to step up her game and shorten that skirt when she goes on interviews, but they keep asking her for her working papers. We'll see how that pans out.

Remember that tall, good looking older man I was dating? No? that's probably because I didn't mention him, but anyway, apparently there is too much wrong with the world to bother with continuing a relationship. The walls are too thin, the weather is too hot, some cars have no AC and it's too difficult to call people once a week. And so the love affair ended, to my deepest discontent. To be honest, I still wish he'd call and at least give a more valid explanation for ditching me, but one can't force things, I suppose... Or can I? suggestions?

I made a closet in my room. An actual closet, with walls and shelves and a metal tube and everything. It looks SO good!

Oh yeah, and I went to Friggin California! woo hoo!!
I arrived on the 4th of July to a packed Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco to watch the fireworks, over-ate and passed out on the grass in front of the Marina as a cover band called "Tainted Love" played on. It was hypnotic. That night, I stayed around the civic center, after walking through the ferry building and Embarcadero, and ended up waking up the next day to a gorgeous little farmer's market that had the most beautiful flower arrangements I've ever seen for under 50 bucks. (they cost $12). I met up with my aunt and for the next few days I ate pupusas in Oakland, Churros in the wharf, Pasta in Pittsburgh, and too many others to mention.
I also went to a few wineries in Napa, and drank till my smile was purple. When one lives in New York, it's easy to forget nature and how beautiful it is. This trip really was a reminder of it.

Then the tour of Academy of Art University begun, which was my reason for going.

Damn, that school is nice. I dont have the words to explain to you the magnitude and quality of the art that is produced by the students of that place. I am thinking of putting the tour of the school on my resume, that's how awesome it was. And so I've decided I'll enroll this year online, as planned, and that by next year I'll try to set things up for a move. Don't panic, I very well know New York was paused without me, so I'll never leave this place - my home - forever, but I really think this is worth it. I guess I'll give more details later on.

So my trip to California ended with a churro overdose and a tour of Sausalito. I went all the way to the end of the boardwalk to drown my poverty in two Dos Equis Amber and a plate of not-so-good-looking Oysters and Nachos. Damn, I wish I was rich.. imagine the places like this that we, in our tight little worlds, never get to see because we keep putting up barriers for things to get done (the walls are too thin, the weather is too hot and sticky, etc), and just marinate in our apartments in front of our computers.

Anyhoo.. I missed my baby terribly, (and by baby I mean shower.. and Zuri I guess) so I was glad to come home. I will definitely be going back to SF, and I'll take Zuri with me so I can see what she thinks about it. When I came back I went to rye playland with her, which totally kicked my butt. She had a blast but I'm too old for these rides... good thing I brought a sandwich I could blame my nausea on. She's on vacation with her dad to Dominican Republic at the moment. I miss her :(

To finish the itinerary, just now I came from a cute little town on the shore called Keyport. I took my brother because it was his birthday yesterday, and he went to St. Nicks Pub to celebrate without me.. he deserves to have a little fun, the poor boy.

I'm off to bed now. Thanks for reading.

Dazed and Confused

2009-06-23T02:06:00.001-04:00

WTF is up with men??

Breaking Down

2009-06-09T00:28:00.003-04:00

CALLER

Hi, may I speak to Albert, please?

He isn't in today, is there something I can help you with?

CALLER

hmm.. maybe.. I'd like to make a payment

ME
Sure, I can take that for you, just give me a moment

CALLER

Wait a Minute.. first let me ask you.. Can I trust you?

(silence)

CALLER

You there? I asked Can I trust you?

You know, i will try to answer you honestly, so I guess I have to say Yes, unless you will be paying with candy, because I just cannot be left in a room alone with it. If one chose to go deeper into the matter, you could also say you cannot trust me with a q tip. I have an insane urge to stick q-tips in my ear, even if I just put one there a minute ago.

So you're probably better off waiting for Albert, and paying that extra $25 late fee, because I am sure Albert can hold his ground in a roomful of candy, and he doesn't clean his ears.

Borderline

2009-06-08T23:47:00.003-04:00

"You can bring whatever you want" the nice black woman told me. Mother would not let me bring just anything, I was sure. I gave her a look, and I couldn't tell what she was thinking as she squeezed a cigarette between her lips, leaning on the door frame of our two story house in Jersey City. I really wish she would just make that throaty sound she makes when I am upsetting her. Either that or give me those painful pinches, because at least I would know that there won't be a punishment coming later. Those later punishments are always worse, because by the time you get them, you've let them fester.

I went to my room and my heart accelerated with a slight panic. What do I bring? I looked at the soiled diapers that belonged to my little brother and shoved them to the side, looking for something valuable to take on my trip. My arm twitched involuntarily within its plaster case and my gaze stopped for a moment on the baseball and bat. I thought of grabbing that, but I was sure that I wouldn't use those with my bad arm and Mother would call me stupid for bringing something useless. I could bring a blanket, but I remembered daddy once got mad at me because I took a blanket to his house. He said "waddaya think I can't provide a goddamn blanket for my kid ya gotta bring yer own??"

It was a difficult decision, one of the most difficult ones I'd had by then, because I was always told whenever I needed to do something: and the consequences of failing in anything were felt immediately. I wanted to please Mother, but she looked funny- a new look I hadn't seen before. She was... happy, almost relieved. Smug. I didn't understand at the time what sarcasm looked like, but this look made doubt its honesty. Then it occurred to me: she wouldn't hit me in front of people, especially the nice black lady: because we didn't know her very much. It was risky, but maybe I could bring my walkman and my favorite tape. She would have a fit! I didn't know how long this trip was going to be, but the lady told me that at least for a month or two I wouldn't come back

I looked for the walkman in my drawer and decided to bring it, no matter what. Perhaps by the time I got back, mother wouldn't be angry anymore. I passed by mother, and she gave me a smile, but I couldn't tell for sure if she meant it. I got on the car with the nice lady, and she gave me a brief little hug. I had my headphones on by then, and Madonna was singing "Borderline".

"...feels like I'm going to lose my mind

You just keep on pushing my love over the borderline..."

I looked back and saw my her leaning on the door frame, and will forever remember her as that day I last saw her, my first day in foster care. Mother: the beautiful woman who once broke my arm, smoking a slim cigarette, as "borderline" played in my ear.

Mysterious Skin

2009-06-03T08:50:00.005-04:00

Throughout the night, Mike meant to get up and shake the coins from the bed. He felt some of them press against his back and legs, but he had been drinking, and was far too tired for his brain to be a commanding presence. He had a mental picture of waking up with nickels and dimes stuck to random parts of his body and face, like the button eyes on a rag doll.

It was morning now, and he opened his eyes with difficulty, stretching and yawning in unison. He tried calculating briefly how much money he spent at the bar, and he quickly decided against it: he'd soon realize that rent was blown this month. Oh, but he had fun. He drank, and danced, and kissed a random girl, and maybe smoked a little pot, but it didn't taste like anything. He grinned: part of his moral hangover was that he danced on stage, and he rubbed his face with his right hand, as one does in embarrassment. That's when he finally noticed it.

Mike's face was a labyrinth of ridges, like flesh-colored veins, but a little thinner.. He may not have noticed it at all, had it not been for the fact that his hand was abnormally soft and sensitive, and little hairs protruded from his palm. He flung up from the bed, and looked at himself in the bedroom mirror. His body was covered in waves and ridges, like wind-blown sand, forming dunes at the joints, and dissipating at long stretches of skin such as his thighs. First thing he thought was that going to work was simply not possible: not only because of the hammering ache that couped his head, but because the ridges didn't disguise him enough to go outside shamelessly. He still looked like himself: only upon close inspection could one notice the rarity of the situation. He looked closer in the mirror and with his oversensitive index finger, followed the line from his forehead, to his nose, to the upper lip, to the end on the other side of his nose.

The even stranger thing is that he was almost sexually aroused: that's how excited he was. This all had to mean something. Something had happened to him during his drinking binge. Something extraordinary that had caused him to now carry this mysterious skin. He laid on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember what it could have been. Meanwhile, his hand found its way to his chest, and following the ridges, trying to decipher its pattern.

Bullit

2009-06-02T00:01:00.005-04:00

Fred doesn't want to go home. He's washed his hands, his face, his balls, and still he smells like that blond little woman from the whorehouse on 59th. What a sweet thing, what young skin, such willingness to earn a little money. Her pungent scent envelopes him like a toxic cloud. Her presence is relentless, and refuses to part his side hours after her body is gone. After frequenting the shack, he is often so pleased and disgusted with himself that the two feelings have become one, indiscernible.

He stops at Jackson Hole and sits at the bar on a corner that avoids the mirrors. Reflected in them, he is just another balding, fat, short man.. somehow the lack of a reflection gives him depth, and for a moment he can forget how flat his existence is.

In the middle of summer, sweaty women wearing silk blouses pasted to their arched backs greet their flirting coworkers and lovers, and with a straight face, Fred sees them moaning with pleasure, undisturbed by their runny makeup: a hypothetical romp that they will never know about. He's raped one after the other in his mind, and only rarely does he smile at the thought that they will go on to their husbands, faithful and virginal, after they've licked and sucked and done all he wanted.

He sees a commotion by the front door, but he is too absorbed by the beer he sinks into: he doesn't notice the reason for the altercation, until a loud bang awakes him from his daydream. He is missed by centimeters, or so he thinks. There is a wave of heat on his right ear, and after touching it he looks at his hand, surprised at the lack of blood. He was sure of it, he could have sworn he was hit. But no, he wasn't.

People run in and out of the Jackson Hole, and Fred sits there, transfixed. Even this ray of hope escaped him. One more centimeter and it would have been over: the waking up, the working, the eating in the same apartment with his mother, the smell of the 59th street women. There would have been no more guilt, no one would have judged him. Death had never occurred to him, but its lack of interest in him felt like another rejection.

A deep sadness took over him, and it was quickly replaced by a feeling of resignation. "It wouldn't be the first time." he muttered as he slowly paid his beer and headed home, where mother was waiting with a lukewarm meal.

While You Were Sleeping

2009-06-01T01:20:00.003-04:00

You may have noticed by now that I am not in your bed. I apologize for leaving in the middle of the night: I simply couldn't sleep, and I know how you get so sensitive about trivial things like this...I just didnt want to bother with arguing. I am sure it's a good opportunity for you to reconsider our relationship, as I am sure you spend most of your time doing anyway.

Soon, you will decide to send me an email, because you are a coward and can never argue with me face to face. I actually find it humorous. You will throw a one-line statement to let me know you are unhappy, and then you lock down nearly shaking, scared. More than fear of arguing, I know you fear that I will tell you the one thing you hate to hear. That I don't care that you are mad, and I will do nothing to change anything. That you are simply the release I needed from a hard week's work, the meantime woman, that person I will remember late in life, as being reasonably good company.. maybe.

I don't think I will respond to your email. It's unnecessary. You know what I am going to say.
I am not a bad person, so I will convince you to stay friends, and when you hint at fixing my insensitive nature, and I will say I agree that the solution is to break up. I mean, really, how seriously did you take all this? did you meet my friends or family? how often did we see each other? ever picked up my phone? do you know anything about me except for what I choose to share? I think the answer has been within you all along: I think if you spent less time sleeping, you'd be more aware of your surroundings.

Let me know if you want to have sex or something at some point, when you wake up. I'm sure I told you about that ex whom I continued to have sex with after the breakup and I trust that you won't make the same mistake: thinking that my semen is my love. This may come as a shock to you, but in this farewell, I am ready to admit that if you never spoke to me again, I would be definitely mildly disappointed.

Good luck to you in all your endeavors. And please do let me know if there is anything I can do to help you along the way. Also please let me know if there happens to be someone else in your life. It'd help me relax a little, knowing the pressure is off of me. You are a slut, I'm sure you will recover quickly.

Your MOTHER Is Stupid.

2009-05-04T13:32:00.001-04:00

If you got a ticket for reckless driving because you were parked behind a moving ambulance, one of three things happened.
1. The officer who have you the ticket is retarded and blind, and you should consider yourself lucky he didn't give you a ticket for illegal transportation of a dead body.

2. You were not parked, you were moving.. Behind the ambulance.

3. The ambulance was parked. On fifth avenue. And you were behind it, with the retarded cop, to whom it looked like you were moving.

If you insist that you were given a reckless driving ticket as you were parked behind a moving ambulance, at least have the decency to hold your tongue when you feel like calling me ignorant or stupid. Imagine for a second that just maybe a MOVING VIOLATION is a fine given to...um... MOVING vehicles.

Thank you.

Phone Rape

2009-04-05T14:02:00.003-04:00

He knows her, there is no need to say anything.. no need to exchange trivial chatter or pleasantries, but he wants more. He waits in the shadows, approaches, waits for the kill.

"I'm going to call you" he types.
"oh..no, better not.. I really don't like phones. Besides, It's 2AM.." she attempts. She is honest.
"forget that, I'm just going to call you. Now" he interrupts.
She hyperventilates. She really doesn't want to. She said "No", why won't he listen? the phone rings. Once, twice. She lowers the volume, lets it go to voicemail.

He calls again, her eyes get watery, she knows he will pounce once he is permitted. She has no choice, he will keep calling. She will just take it, let him do his worst, leave her ear like a used condom, filthy, wet. She hates him for it, but that is all she can do, and he will not care.

"hello?" she says in a broken voice. Defeated. Overpowered.
"well there you are! I got tired of Instant Messaging, figured we should chat for a bit, so I can get used to your voice" his voice, that phallus in her ear. Triumphant.

He will burn in hell for his crime.

Sym-pathetic

2009-04-02T23:24:00.006-04:00

I'm going to say this, knowing that it sounds a little pathetic (specially after the previous post, which has a similar theme), and if you started reaing this blog, I want you to know this is not a reflection of my personality.

Why is it that people in NY (myself included) think it's okay to just disappear without a trace??
in any other country that I can think of, you go on a few dates with someone and unless something happens - you argue, you kill their cat, you get hit by a truck - you continue to talk to them unless you decide not to. In NY, it's perfectly okay to ignore their phone calls indefinitely.

This happened to me recently: which is fine, at some point I thought of not calling this person back either.. Perhaps I'm even rushing to a conclusion after calling only twice in a week and not hearing from him (though i am not trying a third time). But the fact that there was no argument, no animosity, no mild disagreement, absolutely nothing to prevent this person from saying "listen, you're not what I want", has really shocked me. Why not say something? even in more serious relationships, we tend to see a problem and run, as if working to solve it was out of the question. I dont even like calling people, so whats the fear? that I'll go psycho? no my friend.. not for you, not this decade.

Whats even more shocking is that I'm taking it so well. I kind of sympathize with him: he has a lot of things going on and I may be an unwelcome distraction. But what have we come to when someone we liked and spent time with suddenly disappears and we're okay with it? as a society, we have become the very opposite of a commune: this guy could be dead or going through a tough time somehow and I would think he's an asshole for the rest of my life. I say set their houses on fire.

(That was just kidding Fire Marshall Bill)

No Witty Titles Here.

2009-03-31T01:11:00.003-04:00

At 12:30 AM, after sleeping for aproximately an hour, I awakened irritable, anxious and startled. For the first time since I moved in, I even knocked on my neighbor's wall, so they'd lower the music. It had never bothered me so much before...Why?

I had a nightmare. A simple, straightforward nightmare that made me realize that while sometimes you get over things, other times you just put them on the backburner till either 1) the contents of that pot boil over and put out the flame, or 2) they dry up and burn your house down.

I will not go into specifics about what I am talking about, and for that I apologize: retelling the story makes it sound foreign and it will not be something I havent told before, so i feel it useless to try again with the pretext of enlightening this audience. I will simplify it to its lowest denominator for the purpose of protecting the guilty. I will only grant the fact that this is about a person that left me alone when I needed his company very much and then provided that company to someone else I happened to know. Vague enough? I hope so. Lets call the abandoner Ed and the person he is with Edna.

I dreamt that I was in a yellow cab and I heard the cab driver practicing Portuguese, decidedly, with a tape he was carrying around. (*note: I always feel guilty about taking cabs. half my salary goes toward that expense!. also note that I taught myself Portuguese, which is something I am very proud of: probably my last big accomplishment) Then suddenly, in the tape, I heard Ed's very peculiar voice. I was startled. I asked the cab driver which tapes those were. He explained that they were the latest rage in language instruction, that this example was about a guy who was planning to buy a car before his wedding. (*note: I teach English 4 nights per week. Ed got married nearly 3 years ago). I asked the driver if I could make a copy of the tape: he said he needed it, but I could download the video format off the internet. He gave me the title (which I forget now) and I rushed home to do so. (*Note: I keep a list of things to look up which I never do) When I finally downloaded a copy of the tape, i started watching the video: It was in fact, Ed, talking to his best friend - whom I also know and was friends with - about buying a car before his wedding, perhaps from a well known car dealer in the city (*note: Edna's family owns a car dealership). All in perfect Portuguese. I browsed for more info regarding this tape on google, and I found that the director of all these instructional videos was Edna. According to an interview I saw online, she felt there "must be a way to learn a language without years of practice and grammar", so on a whim, she went to film school and decided "with the help of her husband, friends and family" to create this series of tapes and videos to help people kick the classgoing and hard work. Thats when i woke up.

Most of you know my issues with film school and passion for filmmaking. Some of you know, humorously, how i obsess with things and then laugh at them till they seem to go away. Few of you know this story and its characters and even Fewer of you know how i feel about the whole thing. As it turns out, emotions are like an urgent message knocking on the door: they will keep knocking till you either open the door and hear them out, or the door comes tumbling down.

So I've realized I am still bitter. I havent told anyone recently because I dont want to make excuses and say "but i dont want to be with him" or "i dont miss him" .. Those phrases make the strongest woman sound like a wimp, and they are irreversibly true in my case. I am simply pissed: and today. letting those feelings surface and flourish, I have come to the following conclusions, which you can use for yourself if you've got something in the boiler too.

I will not let him near me again.
Being hurt doesnt make me weak.
Nobody will be like that again, and thats great.
Hurting others is a primitive, irrational thought that will poison me if i let it.
I will find joy in what I have, not grief in other's joys.
This WILL end, everything does, and thats also great.

Unauthorized Copy

2009-03-17T22:11:00.006-04:00

Lillian Berezhensky, a graying 46 year old woman, is tapping the start button on the copy machine impatiently, visibly annoyed at the device's ineptitude. She shifts her weight from one leg to the other, feels a flash down her leg, like a lover's finger from her knee to her thigh, but refuses to acknowledge the run in her stocking. A passing coworker walks into the mailroom, leans near one of the cabinets, placing a document on top of the water cooler. As she pours water into a triangular cup, she looks over, willing to commiserate. "That goshdarn thing never works!" the coworker exclaims with a smile, naively expecting a decent exchange.

"Well, if the company hired employees who knew how to used the goshdarned thing", said Lillian, obviously mocking the tone and phrase of the woman. The woman's expression changed to one of understanding, as if she had just remembered a ubiquitous detail about Lillian that would explain her rudeness. She walks out noiselessly, refusing to pursue the discussion.

Lillian looks over at the water cooler and notices how the coworker left her document. She walks towards it and picks it up, glancing at it briefly before motioning it toward the door, as if the woman would walk in at any moment, to honor a silent agreement of retrieving the paper from Lillian's hand.

It was a job application for another company. Quickly and efficiently, Lillian's brain sparked a million bursts of electricity, making her imagine her boss' face when she presented him with a copy of this document. She didn't care whether her loyalty would be valued or not, or what fate would accost the woman once her treason was discovered. She cared most of all about her reputation of a well informed employee: an employee valuable mainly for her wit and observance, with pessimal interpersonal skills to boot.

She wanted to immediately go to her supervisor with the document, but what took place instead was that it occurred to her, illogically, that she needed to keep a copy of the document for herself. Perhaps her brain thought it would later try to convince her that handing the document in was a waste of time, that it was better to keep it for emotional pushing if things ever came to those terms with that coworker. Hard to tell, how one comes to such conclusions. The point is that Lillian soon found herself walking to the copy center across the street, in one of those decisions made for no particular reason.

Little did she know that a group of young men, on their way from scoring really cheap pot in a jersey suburb, would miscalculate the time for the light to turn from yellow to red, and would speed by after the light had turned, the moment Lillian was stepping out into the crosswalk.

As she was laying on the pavement, her shoulder and head pinned beneath a tire, her brain exploded with a burst of images, sounds and scents, none of which she wanted to keep for more than the millisecond it took to produce them. Her mother's languid face, her first boyfriend's kiss, the smell of popcorn at the movies, the taste of a watermelon. None of them interested her. it was surprising what she wanted to hold on to, given what she decided to let go: she wanted to keep the smell of wet pavement, the sound of her own skull crushing, the weight of the job application on her hand, the sense that when they found her body, her office would think the document was hers.

Naked

2009-03-10T18:03:00.005-04:00

Do I look good to you when undressed?

You seem to have no problem looking at me, or tasting me, or putting your hands all over me.
But I feel so awful! as soon as whatever covers me comes off, I feel shapeless and messy...like a crayon who found its way to the oven.. ever seen that?

You may think it's a problem with self esteem, but I'm not worried about my appearance too much.. I mean, I am, but it doesn't depress me. I am more worried that you lie to me when you look at me with desire, that you consume me, use me, enjoy me, but only because you have nothing else. I fear that you want something fresh and crispy...Like.. dare I say it?... an Asian Pear.

Sincerely,

The Egg.

Bathroom Breaks

2009-02-25T23:54:00.003-05:00

Today my boss came back from a long vacation in Morocco, and as is usually the case, acted as if his employees had been playing with their respective balls in his absence.

As is also usually the case, I developed a severe case of bathroom-itis as soon as I saw his ugly mutt. Not that he inspires fear or loose bowels, but rather that since I don't smoke like the rest of the office, and since breaks (including lunch) have long been outlawed, I have no respite from is constant nagging but the frequent-yet-unquestionable visits to the bathroom, which is my only haven.

Unfortunately, actual urinating can only be forced once or twice, so I end up doing very strange things: things so peculiar that I've decided to recount here today. I give you an insight of my bathroom visits.

9:20 AM
Realized boss is in. Peed, washed hands, drank water. Made faces, mocking his tone when he saw me come in late. Applied lip gloss.

10:46AM
Dumped old coffee. Inspected teeth. Made mental note to go to the dentist. Realized the number for the dentist was on my desk. Checked email on the blackberry.

11:08
Scrutinized blackheads on my nose. Smiled repeatedly to inspect teeth. Put a tiny drop of liquid soap on my index finger so the discomfort when I rubbed my eyes (which I do often) would remind me to make the appointment.

11:17
Rushed to rinse left eye repeatedly. Made an appointment to the dentist. Smiled to the mirror at length, to assess objectively how yellow my teeth really are.

11:50
Checked left eye again. Laughed nervously about how stupid it would be to do permanent damage to my eye. Laughed again, fake now, because I thought I saw a wrinkle on my forehead. It wasn't a wrinkle.

1pm
Washed hands, peed, washed hands again. Got up close to the mirror and attempted to pull random chin hairs (unsuccessfully) with bare nails. Face is reddish now.

1:22pm
Washed face with cold water. Dried with paper towels. With index fingers on either side of my nose, considered how I would look post nose-job.

3:09
Read remaining 4 pages of Watchmen, which I snuck in to the bathroom. Considered, sitting on the toilet, how it would feel to be killed by Dr. Manhattan. Played brick breaker on the blackberry until reaching level 12.

3:56
Dumped over-sweetened coffee. Stared at all the mirrors, mouthing the words "you suck, you suck ,you suck" and "a$$hole, a$$hole, d1ckhead", in hopes that my boss has a hidden cameras.

4:22
groaned "dammit, not 5 yet!!" and went on the furniture section of craigslist looking for an ikea loft bed.

4:48
Made time till 5 pm, flushing at the end to make it more realistic. in the meantime, inspected my teeth, checked the part in my hair for any grays that may have surfaced, wondered who would be the first person i seek when I'm hot, skinny and leave this stupid job. answered emails on blackberry. Lost track of time, realized it's now 5:04pm. Fled office.

The Super.. Update!

2009-02-13T10:08:00.003-05:00

You'll never guess what happened.
As most of you know, I never let the truth get in the way of a good story, so I decided that if i didnt have anything juicy to tell her, I'd just make it up.
As most of you also know, I dont do HALF-ASS lies. Oh yeah.. you better believe I went all out.

This morning, as soon as I was coming down the stairs i faked a limp. she looked up at me and as soon as she took that breath to give me her daily report, i exploded:

"vecinaaa! howareyouuu!!
everythinglookssocleanthankgodtherearenopuddlescussimecaigometerminodejoderlastnightiwasatapartycusIgot4ooodollarsinmytaxreturnandigotsodrunkIendedup
dejandoquemy50yroldjewishbossmelometieraporelculoandnowihaveabackachelikenobody'sbusiness!"

can you believe she atually stood there, just staring at me?? she didnt even say good morning!

Puta!

The Super

2009-02-12T08:35:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, my ability to pass out with my eyes open while someone is talking can be a friendship saver. Every now and then, a ridiculously inane monologue can be taking place, and I sit there, stupid smile in tow, while my narrator thanks heaven for having such a non-judgemental listener.

I couldn't possibly judge you, buddy.. I have no idea what you said.

While I have previously tried to interject, I resisted the urge because I usually end up with what a friend (one who noticed this about me) nicely called "an anecdote about nothing to 'further illustrate' a point I never made".

Many other things can also be attributed to this ability, namely, the fact that the Superintendent in my building finds it not only adequate, but also necessary to report to me every morning, with one breath, the highlights of her day thus far.
Yesterday's report, for example, involved the following:

"Hivecinacomoesta?Icleanedthestairlastnightbecausethebumssemearonallover22b'scarpet.
Iwantedtopourcloroxbutihavemyreglaandiwannawaittillit'sover. Itoldmysontobuymeanadvilbutthebastardspendsalldayfumandoyerba"

If you think that my response was anything other than a nod and a "ha!", you are mistaken.
I was too busy thinking not how abnormal this sharing of information is, coming from a non-friend, but how abnormal she could think I am. How does she feel about my lack of sharing? is she offended by my hermetically sealed lips? Should I reciprocate? I have nothing to share as juicy as an inability to perform daily tasks because of a biological condition, or a 14 year old child that smokes pot!

I am planning something for tomorrow, but I am lacking ideas.. any suggestions?

2012

2009-02-02T23:41:00.002-05:00

There was an earthquake in New Jersey today. I guess the soil finally became saturated with the gunk walking on it, and it finally gave in, shivering in disgust.
Though many religious sects will seize any opportunity to announce the fall of earth (and I normally run in the opposite direction of religious sects), I firmly believe that the world as we know it will actually end as predicted by the Mayan calendar, on December 2012, and this Jersey earthquake is merely the tip of the clusterfuck iceberg that's coming to us.

Which got me thinking: what will I be doing if I am not cowering in fear when that time comes around? better yet, what shouldn't i be doing when God comes down from heaven, and sits next to you with his Palm Pilot, ready to do his judgment thing? will I be - though not prepared - at least decent? It is for this reason that I've devised a list of 5 THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT BE DOING WHEN THE WORLD ENDS.

5. Getting Plastic Surgery. Suppose you are old and wrinkly and you're getting your face lifted, boobs enlarged and ass filled. What if God shows up to do his thing at the hospital and doesnt recognize you? remember that time when you helped that old lady with her groceries? wont be on the list!! matter of fact, what if you end up looking like Courtney Love? TRUST ME. You dont want God to mistake you for her OR Madonna.

4. Telling a "God, Mohammed and Buddah" joke. Believe me, no matter how good you think this joke is, it will not impress God, and he's heard it. Imagine it as making fun of the fat kid in your class and then fnding out he's your supervisor at Walmart. Besides, God does not look kindly to other religions (except for scientology, which amuses him to no end), so to imply that he would hang out with Mohammed and Buddah is just too much. Thats like Lindsay Lohan hanging out with you.
Which brings me to point #3.

3. Hanging out with Lindsey Lohan. That stuff about "i eat pussy but i'm not a lesbian" may fly with the red man, but God doesnt mess with that sort of thing. You make up your mind and he may be gentle, but you try to sneak one past the old man, and you WILL pay the price. You may have to end up marrying her for the rest of your life, which lucky for you, will be short, since God will surely smite you. However, if you're a male, you're in hell already, so by all means, go ahead.

2. Recreating Two Girls One Cup. What each person does in their own time is fine by me, I'm not one to judge. But if you eat feces, throw them up and then feed the vomit to your tranny girlfriend, you deserve a slow painful death in the lakes of fire and brimstone God has saved up specially for you and those dudes that fucked the horse. Can you imagine the discussion God and you would have?

GOD

hey, i'm here to...WTF!?

YOU

Oh, you're here! give me just a second to clean up!

GOD

WTF??!! EWWW!!!!!! Oh no.. i think i'm gonna throw up.

YOU

oh it's okay, i'll get that

GOD

get away from me!!!

YOU

nonono, dont freakout, i'll just brush my teeth

GOD

*smite*

and you dont want to spend eternity with shit on your teeth and vomit in your butt.. or is it viceversa?

1. Getting an abortion.

GOD

So.. What are you up to?

YOU

Um. Nothing.

GOD

Is that a vacuum? Looks clean enough in here to me.

YOU

yeah..hehe..so, how's it going out there in the world?

GOD

Oh You know.. setting the sinners on fire, turning them into pillars of salt.. the usual...

..is that a baby hangin out there?

YOU

No..

GOD

yeah, i'm pretty sure that's a baby...

YOU

hmm.. I wonder who left him there!

GOD

You mean crying, attached to your uterus?

YOU

i didnt...

*Smite Smite Smite!*

Lost Season Premiere

2009-01-23T00:51:00.001-05:00

Part 1.
Oh.
hmm
huh?

Part 2.
wha?
WHAT?
WHAT!!!??!?

Story Development

2009-01-21T12:36:00.004-05:00

I was driving to Jersey the other day.
No. I was hitching a ride to California and got picked up by a Hell's Angel, on a Harley, of course.
I was going to a Mall to buy an Ed Hardy T-shirt.
No. I was tired of the city, wanted to escape to get a job as a farmhand in Napa Valley.
Then a guy in a white convertible cut me off.
Then a guy in a white convertible cut me off.
I said "What the hell??" and gave him the finger.
No. Mick, the hell's angel, yelled "thats it, a$$hole!" and pulled out the knife he had in his pocket.
No. Mick, the hell's angel, yelled "thats it, a$$hole!" and pulled out the sawed-off shotgun he was hiding under his vest.
I blinked my lights twice, and then cut the guy off myself.
No. Mick fired three shots, missing him only once.
The guy looked at me like he wanted to kill me.
neh..The guy ended up sprawled on the steering wheel, blood and guts gushing everywhere.
I panicked and decided to rush to the mall.
yes.. thats it. I panicked and decided to cancel my Napa Valley adventure. The mall was more fun anyway.

Issues.

2009-01-14T14:53:00.002-05:00

I've come to the conclusion that I have a humongous problem with low self esteem. I also have a gargantuan problem with hiperbole. Which is totally insane, considering how superbly awesome I am.

7 Things People Shouldnt Say On First Encounters

2009-01-12T12:02:00.005-05:00

7."This? Oh, it's extra underwear, in case I sleep here tonight"

6. "I know you said over 28 and taller than 5'6", but I figured that 24 and 5'3" is close enough"

5. "Yeah, i'd totally be up for a platonic relationship. Thats the kind where we get to do it, right?"

4. "no pressure, but what are you doing for Christmas next year?"

3. "I used to be way more laid back, but my medication makes me jumpy"

2. "Did you tell anyone I was coming over?"

1. "We cant have sex tonight, because I have a herpes outbreak" *

* Thank You.. But no, Thank you.

Fever

2009-01-12T08:37:00.002-05:00

No text, no IM, no email, no missed calls, no voicemail. It's as if the world forgot I existed: or like that movie where the woman was erased from cyberspace. How would I know if this happened to me? I doubt a cool young police detective would come to my rescue.

On top of everything, I have a fever.

Fevers have always fascinated me. Your body feel as though you are submerged in a viscous substance. Harder to move, harder to look around, harder to breathe. You are hyperaware of your surroundings, but they just happen to be out of reach. Your thoughts can be clearer: random images of the beginning of the world, visions of making electric escalators better, everything makes sense.. except for the simple things, like screwing on a lightbulb or making a soup. When you fail at those, you feel like crying...or maybe it's just me.

This world is exhausting, and everyone has forgotten me, so I've decided to end things now. I drank two bottles of nyquil and have made a miniscule cut on my veins, enough to buy me enough time to finish this post. My last thought will be that i'm grateful for the cherry taste in this nyquil. Mint would have been hard to swallow, this wasnt so bad.

I feel better already, and i feel like going to sleep. I want to make it easy for the police and morgue people, so I will leave the frontdoor unlocked in my house.

Ok, I think i may have made a mistake. There was a note written on a piece of paper, slipped under the door. "Saida, there are electric problems in the boroughs. You probably dont know, since you have no TV. We are worried about you. Your mom wants to know if you need anything. I passed by to check on you, but she will come at 10pm with some soup she made. Feel better!"

Damn.. it's 9:55. I heard the doorbell. How do I fix this?

too funny..

2009-01-04T12:15:00.003-05:00

Your mum is so fat, she walked past the TV and I missed the first season of Lost

Just remember...if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.

He's so far in the closet he's in Narnia

A man went to a zoo. The only animal was a dog. It was a shitzu.

What do you call a black man flying a plane? A pilot, you racist.

If you smacked a kid in the face with a bottle of Johnson's No More Tears, would it create a beautiful irony?

I'm not racist, racism is a crime, and crime is for black people.

The Plan

2009-01-03T10:30:00.003-05:00

Though not exactly resolutions, I've thought of these guidelines to help me be happy this year.

1. Focus.
See what is the ultimate outcome I want out of a situation and keep my energy in getting there. Not so much that its failure will cost me sleep, but enough to remember why I got there in the first place.

2. Solve Problems NOW.
Whether the outcome is positive or negative, avoid the "it will work itself out" approach. This doesnt mean taking the quickest way out, but to leave procrastination for another day :)

3. Get Out Of The House.
Stop trying to network, meet people, keep in touch with friends or find personal gratification at home. Use the tools available, but don't make it the only real world.

4. Lose 10% of The Things That Bother Me Every Month, 'till I'm Satisfied.
Clutter, weight, time spent on the computer, inactivity, time talking about my job, time complaining, Hate.

5. Take Ownership.
I am responsible for what happens in my life, my pleasures and making myself happy. If I want to do something, go somewhere or experience something, it's my responsibility to get it done. Don't force my hopes on something or someone else.

I figure it's harder to forget these things if they're written somewhere... and I have a tendency to forget things...and lose things. :)

Me Alegra Verte

2008-12-29T11:06:00.002-05:00

Hola! Cuantos años sin verte!
Eso veo, te felicito, muy linda familia la que tienes. Que grandes que estan tus hijos!

Muy bien, gracias, ya ves, sigo viva a pesar de tus esfuerzos. (sonrisa forzada)

No hombre, es broma, ya se que no me deseas mal.

ahem.. no se porque pensarias en mi. Eso nunca lo entendere. Pero bueno, supongo que yo tambien pensare en ti de vez en cuando.

No, eso no. No comienzes con eso otra vez.

Bueno, si te pones en ese plan, me voy a poner grosera, ya sabes.

Pero MIL DEMONIOS ME VAS A PROVOCAR UN SINCOPE, HIJO DE PUTA! QUE TE CALLES CON ESO!!! PORQUE NO TE TERMINA DE PISAR EL CAMION DE LA BASURA, COÑO!!!

YO ME PONGO COMO ME DA LA GANA, COMEMIERDA!!

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

...si sabes que nuestra proxima conversacion sera asi otra vez, que haces por aqui? que buscas exactamente?

Cover Letter

2008-12-10T13:48:00.000-05:00

Dear Sir or Madam,

Enclosed please find my resume for consideration. I am interested in the position you have recently advertised. It is still available, correct? I mean you just advertised it and unless you're some sort of idiot who posts filled positions you should still have an empty desk in your office. I am more than qualified to perform the menial tasks you request. I went to college for over 6 years, and i have never had the chance to use my abilities because employers nowadays refuse to acknowledge talent.

Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions: unless your questions are stupid or your questions are meant to trick me. For example, some idiot asked me if I had kids, and when I said yes, she mentioned the job was very demanding for families. Guess what else is demanding!? a job that pays in rolls of quarters. In conclusion, you hire me or I bust a cap in your ass. You may notice from my resume that I live in Harlem. That means I have peeps, homeboy/girl.

Sincerely,

Your Worst Nightmare,(if I dont get hired)

If You Only Knew

2008-11-18T01:19:00.002-05:00

.. That I'm here though I know you will drive me to nothingness and that I know that with you I am destined to spend my life in shadow of something less brilliant, less worthy than myself.

...That when I leave, I will go knowing that I wont be missed. That I only have tantrums to make your life difficult. That my threats serve only to appease my own guilt for the submission I display for you.

...That I think about you more than I tell you because it pisses me off that after so long you still dont know me. That I dont think of you in terms of wasted time, but of time in the negative.

... That I know you genuinely think I can do better, but the mere fact that you think you also can do better invalidates your point. That I am often afraid that you are all I deserve.

... That I'll never hear from you what I want to hear, regardless of how petty that may be. That I know you would rather end than change, cut me off than wait for me, laugh at us than cry with me.

... That I am still a raging maniac, and that I will drop you with no notice, reason or fault. That one day I'll get tired of talking and feeling, and will choose to live alive, as I once did.

Vergüenzas en Linea

2008-11-13T15:47:00.006-05:00

Hola, Estimados Lectores!

Siento haberme desaparecido por tan largo rato: realmente no se si exista alguna razon especifica que haya causado mi ausencia, pero el hecho es que a pesar de pasar gran parte de mi tiempo online, no he pasado por aqui. Por eso me sorprende el ver que a pesar del tiempo que he pasado sin poner una entrada, aun siguen visitandome uno que otro fiel lector. A mis amigos, mil gracias.. ya saben lo escurridiza que soy, y de corazon agradezco su paciencia. Pero no tengo tantos amigos, asi que una considerable parte de visitas son de personas a las que no conozco... de quienes son? admiradores secretos? ex-novios? novias de mis ex-novios? Las posibilidades son infinitas!
Cuantas veces hemos hecho locuras y cosas vergonzosas por este medio del internet? cuantas veces hemos buscado el nombre de una ex-novia de tu novio (o viceversa) en google? Estas curiosas cifras de visitas a mi pagina me incitan a numerar mis propias osadias ciberneticas, y las estupideces mas grandes que he hecho frente al monitor. Aqui les dejo mi lista.

5. Hackear un email. Vaya..esta siempre es la mas facil. La gran mayoria de nosotros gravemente subestimamos nuestra abilidad de recordar un password, poniendo las preguntas mas idiotas del mundo como punto de referencia en la opcion de "forgot my password" de nuestras cuentas de email. Lo peor de todo es que olvidamos la pregunta completamente, y no nos atrevemos a poner un truco porque si llegamos a necesitar la respuesta, no nos acordaremos. Un ex-novio puso "como se llama mi abuelita?" y dure apenas unos minutos en sacarle la informacion casualmente. Luego tarde una semana y media (para que no se notara) y me meti en su email. Bingo!

4. Guardar conversaciones ajenas de MSN en un archivo oculto Otra cosa super-facil. solo hay que esperar a que tu pareja se conecte y en un momentito de descuido, eliges el archivo donde quieres guardar la informacion. Ademas, no me van a negar que a ustedes tambien les da curiosidad lo que tanto habla su pareja con un ex, verdad??

3. Buscar ex-novios en Google, Facebook, Myspace y Hi5. Solo para ver sus fotos y suspirar.. jeje.. me da verguenza, pero llego un momento en que me converti en ciber-terrorista. Me la pasaba de cuenta en cuenta buscando detalles. Pero todo tiene su fin.. hoy solo entro a las cuentas de mis exes unas cuatro o cinco veces al dia! ;)

2. Poner anuncios clasificados en Craigslist y encontrarme alli con la persona con la que salia en ese momento. es una de esas cosas que prefieres no recordar. Afortunadamente, yo estaba buscando y el respondiendo, asi que solo hicimos un pequeño silencio y acordamos no volverlo a mencionar.

1. Abrir una cuenta en gmail para poder abrir una cuenta en myspace para poder mandarme mensajes amenazantes a mi verdadera pagina de myspace y poder hacerme la victima de una ex-novia de mi ex-novio. Se me pudrio medio cerebro esa vez. Ni me pregunten. Lo peor de todo es que esto duro un largo tiempo, y cada vez me sentia mas ridicula. Pero bueno, por lo menos pude utilizar esa confesion para hacerle ver que no era una completa estupida.. verdad?!

The Boy

2008-10-10T00:40:00.005-04:00

Thirty days and thirty nights. The lady waited at the window until the last of the volunteers went home, until the news reporters became uninterested.. until the sheriff made his last visit. She was angry at them, though she kept her composure as much as she could, because the was far too old to go looking for the young man into the woods on her own. She was appalled that a life lost meant so little to the world, and that invariably, it kept turning unscathed.

The time she usually occupied with baking him cookies and other goodies was now taken up rethinking what could have happened. Theories came and went, each more perplexing and unsatisfying than the other: though satisfaction was a difficult feeling to acquire in that situation...and so the days came and went, without news of her grandson. She began to try to see him objectively, as a 17 year old who lived with his grandmother, and who probably wanted more: he wanted to be away from her. The weight of that terrible thought aged her. It made her bones brittle.

On the 31st night, the old woman tossed on her bed, restless. The aching of her bones intensified, and when she opened her eyes in the darkness, she couldnt make sense of her surroundings. Her heart started beating faster once she tried to get up but found herself unable to. She thought about yelling, but quickly realized her voice wouldnt come out, and even if it did, no one could hear her in that remote part of the forest. Her heart beat faster as her brain identified the feeling that overwhelmed her: this was death... leaving now? with so many things unexplained and so much still to do? her grandson would never be found. Everyone woud forget him once she was gone. It was unfair.. too unfair, and this was her last thought, which came along with a small sob.

When she opened her eyes, a glimpse of consciousness opened in her mind. She was looking up at the sky, and the treetops in the forest seemed to be moving fast, though she was motionless. She had seen nothing like it, and smiled amidst the grief she felt for her own death. The smell of pine was intoxicating, she was glad that would be the last thing she remembered of her time on earth.

That's when she started falling. The initial feeling was a jolt of electricity that reverberated in her body, making her more aware of her situation. Still, irrational thoughts such as "i wasnt so bad, i cant be going to hell?!" echoed in her mind, even when she noticed she wasnt alone in her fall. A beautiful man carried her in his arms, his skin white as porcelain, his chest wide and his body firm despite his apparent years. He must be in his 50's or so, as shown by the gray in his hair and his calm demeanor, in spite of the quickly passing edges of rock that threatened to rip them both apart. She wanted to fight back, but found herself unable to be angry at the man, even when she realized he had taken her from her home and was now falling with her god-knows-where.

"Adele, dont be afraid" the man softly announced. "you have a place with us, your grandson is waiting"

her grandson?! ...but the man continued, as if recognizing her panic at the mention of him.

"your grandson fell into our land 3 hours ago: 30 days in your time measures.. our land is a very special place: we lose or earn 20 years upon our fall, and then never age a single day. We can live forever as long as we love someone who also lives in the land with us. Because of his great heart, his love toward you, and his desperation to find you, he's earned our affection, saving many of us from death. We decided to grant him the wish he has asked from us. We will now bring you to him"

Adele, of course, thought it was all a load of crap. Losing or aging 20 years? live forever if she loved someone in this "land"? the only thing that kept her from screaming was the excitement of the possibility of seeing her grandson again.

Then, from below, she saw a beacon of light radiating through the...cave? and just as soon as she saw the light, the darkness ended abruptly. The light came from the sky, and suddenly she found herself flying, now hand in hand with this man, as if heaven was below the end of the hole. She looked over at her hand, the one being held by the handsome man, and noticed how the skin on it was tighter and smoother than she expected, as a hand belonging to someone else.

Clouds were passing by and she could only barely grasp, in awe, that the face looking up at her from the corner of the lake, surrounded by a small crowd, that face from a grown man in his mid thirties, was that of her grandchild. She thought many things quickly as she prepared herself for a fall into the golden lake.

The last of those things she thought was the most logical. "Thank you God, for making this my personal heaven"

A Fairytale.

2008-09-08T23:48:00.002-04:00

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a young man that lived with his grandmother. He had been away from some time, and when he came back to settle in with her, he was sad to notice how old she was getting.

As she baked goodies and told him stories of her youth, he would notice how her skin wrinkled, and her eyes flickered reminiscent of her past. He often wished he could do something about it, but he felt he was too small to make a difference. Too small in a big big world.

When the worry of losing his grandmother took over him, he would get up from his bed, and take short walks around the backyard: walks which later extended to the road in front of the house, and later still, to the nearby forest. As he walked he thought of everything possible to make his grandmother feel- and be- young again. Everything from medicines and potions to finding her a boyfriend (he'd heard that love makes people young again), but the possibilities of any of those options working were very limited.

One day, during one of his walks through the night forest, the sky became unusually darkened despite the full moon, and it soon began to rain. He took cover from the rain in a bed of soft ferns naturally covered by the canopy of an enormous willow. As the raindrops fell heavily on the willow and the forest started to smell like wet grass, he started to get sleepy. He looked up at the sky, letting a few heavy raindrops fall on his face, and since it didn't look like it would clear up, he took a step back, not noticing the mouth of the underground cave barely covered by ferns which swallowed him up into its endless abyss.

****
*to be continued.. tomorrow, i promise!

The Newcomer

2008-09-03T01:02:00.002-04:00

Everyone I ever heard talk about these things told me that first there was a tunnel, then a light at the end of it, and then there was some sort of peace as someone dear to me pulled me to the other side. I've been waiting half an hour here, alone, in the dark. Last thing I remember is an awful feeling of pressure on my head, and a sudden feeling of asphyxia.

I never stopped to think about my time, about the moment this came to me. This is one of those things that people rightly call a mystery. No one really knows how this happens, and no one ever comes back to talk about it, so it was bothersome for me to talk about this with others, since it was all pure speculation anyway. Besides, most have preconceived notions of what this is all about. Suggestions range from the notion that there may be nothing after this, to the idea that it is either paradise or hell, depending on your merits.

What do I think? that this is confusing. Nothing I ever read can describe this exactly: and even as I am feeling it right now, there is no accurate way to express this feeling. Everything rushes, from happiness to despair, from anguish to exhilaration, from the feeling of unfinished responsibility to that wonderful feeling of accomplishment. The only invariable thing is this pressure, this slow and constant asphyxia.

Wait. I DO see a light! Seems I am in some sort of tunnel. I feel as though I am falling into it, or being pulled out of it: my sense of direction is a little fallible, since I appear to be floating, and I am not sure where my feet are. My heart (do I have one?) is beating faster and faster, with the certainty of my fate being so close I can almost touch it. I wonder, have I been good? will heaven or hell await?

Suddenly, pain crushes every corner of my being and I feel like the end cannot be far. I am scared. I cry, but I cant hear my own voice.
And just when I was about to give up to the pain and embrace it, I feel someone touch my face. Someone extending their hand from the light, into the tunnel, pulling me out in a flash. This is not what I expected at all. The most uncomfortable experience ever...Followed by peace.

I am still trying to decipher that last flash. A few seconds of it, I was incredibly aware of my own weight. I felt heavy and breathless, like I was drowning, followed by intense cold. I screamed loud, and was happy to know that I could hear myself. Then after some dizzying maneuvers, I felt safe. yes. I must be in heaven. hell must be what I was in before: nothingness.

happy birthday to me.

Month of Fiction, Intro

2008-09-03T00:52:00.004-04:00

I cant sleep. It's 12:37AM as I start writing this and my mind is invaded by a backlog of creatures and strange people that I've neglected for far too long.

A friend once told me that in order to fall asleep, he imagines a huge set of drawers, and he closes each and every one, leaving a thought of the day inside. Apparently this helped him clear his mind. I, on the other hand, feel the need to go through each drawer, thinking that I left something important in one and I cant find it.

So, it is for this reason that I've chosen to make this month the month of Fiction. Not that everything else in the blog is truth, but as you know, lately things have been getting too realistic. I hope you enjoy the voices, people and creatures as long as they last.

Power Struggle

2008-08-13T18:47:00.007-04:00

My daughter eats her vegetables. From daycare to grandmother's houses, everyone is amazed at her capacity to make a raw red onion seem delicious. She eats fruit and prefers low fat milk to soda, as I look on, Whopper Jr. in hand. I used to be this way when I was younger, until I passed on my taste for fruit and vegetables to her at birth and was left with a very distinct taste for "som-n yummy!"

However, in the spirit of comraderie and goodwill, sometimes I pick her up with an ice cream or ice in hand, and when I do, I get a few more for her friends in daycare.

Today, due to a snafu at the deli where I order lunch, instead of the 50c bag of doritos or sun chips I get with my sandwich, I got a huge of potato chips. Since I'm not a big fan, I saved them for her, hoping she's eat at least some of them.

So when I picked her up, we stopped at a playground nearby and she found herself with a few friends from daycare accompanied by their respective parents. I gave her the bag of chips and she proceeded to share them with her friends. I looked at most parents asking for approval, and in the silent language of parents who want to mind their own business while their child is distracted, most of them nodded in agreement.

All except for one Fucker, who decided to ignore me after i repeatedly made attempts to notify him i was giving chips to his child.

This Ass also happened to be parent to the hungriest of all the little girls in the playground, one who wasn't content with receiving the few chips my daughter rationed to each child, but instead wanted to put her whole face in the bag.
Instead, this jerk started mumbling to himself that chips were going to ruin his Shana's appetite, and that they were full of sodium and "presentatives". But did he pull his little one from the crowd of chip eaters? Did he approach me about it? Oh no, that would have been too difficult. So I told Zuri to put the stupid bag away, wondering if I should go and tell this dickhead that I cook everyday, breakfast and dinner. I let my anger at this guy fester for a few more minutes, and decided that it wasnt worth it.

Instead, as I was leaving, I asked Zuri if she wanted the rest of her chips, and upon hearing "no" I gave little Shana the rest of the potato chips and made sure daddy dearest heard me when I said "here honey, I bet you're hungry".

Tomatoes

2008-08-13T15:36:00.004-04:00

I am ruined. Once an avid fan of the delicious fruit that is the tomato, my tastebuds have been forever contaminated by the yummy goodness of the plant-ripened variety.
My life will never be the same.
I wander supermarkets seeking out its deliciousness, only to find myself wiping my tears in the corner isles, unable to find succor in the available kinds, with a lingering taste that resembles cardboard and bland pear.
I will continue my life aimlessly, pulling out that mocking slice from my sandwich, lest I be dissappointed even further.
I shall overcome this ubiquitous insult that is the store-bought tomato next spring, when I fill my fire escape with soil, and the cigarrette butts and (surely) urine spewed from three floors up will provide a home for my own version of the fruit of the Gods.

So say we all. Amen.

Senseless

2008-08-05T22:41:00.003-04:00

Next door to the school where every morning I part from my true better half (or third, if mathematics are of importance), there is a center for the advancement of people with disabilities.

Every morning, I see the familiar sightless faces and missing appendages, the former drug addicts that cling onto their morning cigarette, the same elderly men and women who fight with their Caribbean home attendants, with mock-scrubs and sweaty foreheads. Sometimes I say hello, other times I yell "coming through" to see them scatter across the pavement.

Today, like every day for god knows how long, I saw a blind woman whose eyes move unusually quickly for someone in her condition. She is a young lady, 23-25, with blond hair that usually flaps side to side with the movement of her cane. She is neither pretty nor ugly, just a normal white girl who dresses a little conservatively for her age. However, today was different for several reasons.

1) She dyed her hair red. I mean, every woman has the innate right to have a horrible hair color once in their life, but it is usually a well thought and self-made decision. Why in the world would someone try to convince her that this was a good idea? Does she know that now she looks like the offspring of the little mermaid and a blow fish?

2) She had an ipod. Again, I respect people's rights to go about their daily lives involved in their own little world. I myself try to ignore my surroundings as much as possible, and whether your weapon of choice is a book, an ipod, a PSP, or your ball sack, I support your decision to overwhelm your senses. But - somebody stop me if i'm wrong - she's already BLIND. Does she really need a minimized sense? unless that's an audio book titled "do not let people convince you to dye your hair" trust me, it's doing more damage than good.

...And finally,

3) She was walking her dog. Where do I begin? ...She's BLIND! she doesn't know where her dog is, much less where her dog's ASS is. Or if it pooped or where it did so. Why did she have a bag to gather poop with? why? would she just bend down gathering rocks, bottles, flowerbeds, mud, hoping that one of those would turn out to be poop?

I really don't get it. Maybe it's me who is senseless.

Thought Of The Day

2008-08-02T20:46:00.002-04:00

Writing when there isn't much to say takes a lot of practice. Many authors have spent their entire lives perfecting this, while others do it a few times and get briliant results very quickly. For example, today I read an article about the dangers of texting while walking. Among the many dangers, there were the basic "falling in a pothole and getting run over by a car, but other less obvious ones such as getting poked in the eyes with a branch.

But the point of all this is.. how am I doing?

El Poema del Viejo Asesino

2008-08-01T13:32:00.004-04:00

Este poema fue escrito por uno de los personajes de un cuento que escribi hace un tiempo. Es un poco cursi, pero consideren que fue escrito por un hombre viejo y solitario. Lo encontre hoy, al revisar unas cajas en un closet. Espero les guste.

Ventanas, una cama, y tu sombra.
Testimonios de una antigua presencia, de un lejano amor,
de una menguada paz.
Rastro de un tiempo de complicidad y entrega
un tiempo que dejaste atras como el pasado mismo.

Vivo inerte, sin ser tocado,
tus manos ya no me acarician con el ardor que antes hubo.
Ya no recuerdo porque no esta aqui tu cuerpo,
porque es solo tu sombra la que me acompana.

Solo seguimos tu recuerdo y yo,
companeros de cuarto aceptandose sin preguntas
silenciosos, pensativos y quietos.
Sin perturbarnos las rutinas
sin escandalizarnos de nuestro propio crimen.

Missing My Balls

2008-08-01T02:35:00.003-04:00

I woke up at 6 AM, even though my regular hour is 9 AM, just in time for my alarm to ring. I had three hours to kill, and because the sun was still not up, I decided to play with my balls a little. It was then that I felt down my pants and was shocked to find that my balls were missing.

where are my balls?

They're not in Brooklyn where they are supposed to be, or in the beach where they were last spotted! I specifically remember leaving them in one place, and I even had a hard time rolling them around when I needed them to move, but now suddenly, they're gone!

Rumor is that they are in Vegas living it up, but my balls are serious and stern, it's hard to picture them in this manner. If somebody finds my balls, please remove any dirt or foreign animals that may have taken it hostage and return them to me.
I miss them dearly and would like them back.

I'm Sorry

2008-07-29T15:39:00.002-04:00

Dear Readers,

I was just re-reading the entry previous to this one on the blog, and I've realized I must apologize. What a long, boring, crappy story..I promise you, it was much better in my head. Please don't think my criteria is just getting awful, it actually was a funny story, but as I wrote it, it turned out to be longer than a Tom Hanks marathon, longer than a speech by Fidel Castro, longer than an orgy at the impotent men club.

I assure you that I will no longer feel obligated to write something when i'm deprived of proper inspiration and sleep, "just to put it on the page today'

As a matter of fact, I will keep that entry as a reminder of how awful I can write and try to do better next time. Once again, thank you for your patience, and i promise that I will try to be less boring in the future. Because this story was boring...more boring than the public reading of a Braille book, more boring than the X files movie, more boring than narrating the stock page of the New York Times.

Sincerely,
ME

Polite Stranger with Candy..My Candy.

2008-07-29T00:48:00.005-04:00

Someone once politely invited me to go to the Batman movie and then forgot all about it. I proceeded to haul my ass to Brooklyn for some before-the-movie..um..none of your business, while he thought "it would be funny" if he didn't tell me he saw the movie the day before. (no Joe.. I didn't forget.. I may NEVER forget).

Since he has to endure my polite rage of laying in bed till he stares, wondering where his joke went wrong, he decides to make it up to me and we go back to Manhattan. However, everything is sold out, so he politely abandons ship and I head home, deciding to make a stop at the theater around my house.

As I stand in line at the movie theater on 125th street, I look at the mass of people behind me and I'm glad I've made it to the movie. Then, the devil, in his neverending plot to drive me to bankruptcy, makes me get the stupid idea of getting popcorn at the concession stand. Before I go, however, I look around to ensure that I won't lose my place in line, which leads me to a polite and chatty young man with an apparent mental disability standing in front of me.

I politely ask if he would hold my place, and when he says "sure!" I ask if he wants anything from the concessions. He says "yeah, candy! and I patiently wait the 30 seconds it would take him to reach for his wallet and hand me his money...which doesn't happen. I look at his face, which exudes politeness and disability intertwined, and I look at the smiling faces of the people around us who politely thank me for my good deed. I head to the concessions, thinking that 3 bucks for a box of candy is a lot of money, but it would be impolite of me to embarrass the young man demanding he pays me back.

When I reach the counter, I realize I dont know what kind of candy I should buy, and I think that I dont want to be held responsible if the young man is allergic to peanuts and swells up to a size that will block our view of the screen: I decide to get M&M plain and M&M peanuts, so I can take the candy he doesn't take. As I head back, I fantacize that I am mistaken, and that the young man will be waiting for me with a handful of quarters to pay for his candy, which I will then politely refuse.

As I approach he smiles broadly, and I start to explain that I didn't know what to get him so I got these..and before I finish the part of my sentence where I explain how he's entitled to one of the bags, he's taken both of them. I politely filled my open mouth with popcorn, as i wondered what my next step should be. The people around me look at me, thanking me with their eyes for my good deed. The young man fills his mouth with both plain and peanut M&m's, clutching them with his hands, exuding gratefulness and disability.

I wash my stupidity down with the Soda and I think about the tests the young man had to endure to be considered mentally challenged. "would you buy things for a stranger that you wouldnt buy for yourself? yes? well then you're disabled, my child"

Out of sheer gratefulness, the young man politely asks if he can sit "right next" to me in the theater. Please note the use of "right next" as opposed to just plain "next" to me, because that is exactly what he did. He sat there, nearly on my lap, with his arm over the back of my seat, staring at my popcorn.

If the movie is good enough, you will be surprised at how easily you can forget your own stupidity, and the polite stranger who will surely ask you if you want him to walk you home.

Never Back Down

2008-07-25T02:55:00.004-04:00

Okay... so i'm watching this movie with my sister (i'm totally dissappointed, by the way: I thought it was a dance movie) and this girl in the movie totally fucks over the main character, only to say she's sorry 10 minutes later...

wtf is up with that??

Not only that, but this mini-britney spears actually is offended at the fact that the guy (hot!) didnt accept her apology. Why are people this way? why is it when some people apologize they think you are obligated to accept their lame excuse and forgive them??

So, as my sister is curled up in the fetal position begging me to put the movie back on, I am taking a pause to write this blog. Because apologies aren't always enough... and fantasizing about UFC fighters doesnt make you more likely to get them in the future. SO you see, i'm doing her a favor.
She's mumbling something, but i care only about that stupid apology that the woman wanted the guy to forcefully accept.

Suicide Note

2008-07-18T02:09:00.007-04:00

Hello Police Officer Charles, from the 25th precinct. You are reading this, so undoubtedly, I have succeeded in killing myself.
Please don't fret over my death, as I had circumstances that forced me to commit this act, and though you are correct in thinking that I was young, I was not pretty at all, I was just lucky enough to photograph well.

My name is NOT Jane Doe, please dont write it..well.. guess you already did.. whatever. Go over to the top drawer in my night table and you will find my driver's license. Stop staring at my dildo. Thanks.

I was a psychic since I was very young which has proved to be both a burden and a blessing. As I was growing up I would cry for no apparent reason, knowing that my parents would spank me (which they always ended up doing, because I'd cry for no apparent reason). During school I would already know what the teachers would ask, so I was top of my class. Unfortunately, I wasn't smart enough to figure out that in doing so, my classmates would hate my guts and I would get beat up every other day.

So here I am, an adult, doing this thing for a living. Have you any idea how trivial it is to be asked "will my ex come back to me?" or "is my lover cheating?" an average of 30 times per day? On top of all that, I didn't quite develop social skills, so my answer is somehow never adequate. Just today a woman asked me if her husband was cheating, and I said "no, but he will in 3 years, when you get fat like a hippo, and your yeast infection goes out of control". I mean, you'd think she'd be grateful, right? well, she stormed out.. that's the 14th person this week, and I expect 1 more before I kill myself.

So why do I do this? you ask.. well, seeing into the future is not all it's cracked up to be. I once saw the winning numbers for Take 5 and played them, but as it turned out, the guy who was supposed to win it (instead of winning and moving to Mexico with the nanny) ended up working overtime hours, giving a coworker the opportunity to sleep with his wife, and give her the Clap. Not cool.

Back to my point though. I can see into my own future and I don't really ever amount to anything. I don't make a lot of money, I never really meet anyone exciting, I end up cheating on my husband with a bisexual 18 year old, and my cat gets raped by my neighbor. I figure I should just end things here, without having to shave, shower, eat or fake orgasms ever again.

Please tell my mom that I love her and that the hormone treatment she enters to have another child after my death does NOT end well. Please tell the coroner that it's okay if I'm not in one piece as he picks me up off the ground, since I want to be cremated anyway... And please, for God's sake (and as consolation for winning with your numbers)...if you're gonna fuck your wife tonight, wear a condom. That's PUS in her privates. Blame Lieutenant Jackson.

I'm Convinced That..

2008-07-16T23:39:00.008-04:00

...it's possible to reach an orgasm by scratching your foot till it bleeds.

...the deep tissue in the tongue is connected to the lungs. How else would you explain a sudden lack of oxygen when you bite it?

...the first onion was born under an armpit. Who's with me here?

...somebody puts a little semen in every egg. Just enough for the yolk and the whites to stick. You've seen it too, haven't you?

...in a previous life, one of my exes was a woman. Another was a Chihuahua with Attention Deficit Disorder.

...only people with extra money start smoking. Broke people cant afford cigarrettes.

...Clorox and semen have more chemicals in common than the manufacturers dare admit.

...the people who created Alli are still laughing at ass-leaking dieters.

...deodorant is illegal in some middle eastern countries.

...I will receive a bomb in the mail for the above statement.

...the African food my neighbors cook was seasoned in or with a horse's ass and has at least 2 rotten fish components.

Thought Of The Day

2008-07-14T06:37:00.002-04:00

A mini-epiphany on pussy-eating occurred to me this weekend.

1)If you bake a cake when it happens, it will eventually happen again.
2)If you set up a limit, it will be surpassed.
3)If you talk about how you like it, it will get better.

yeah, I had a nice weekend.. how was yours?

Thought Of The Day

2008-07-11T03:24:00.003-04:00

If I could bring any president for dinner at my house, dead or alive, of any country or era, I would have Hitler. I always wonder what he'd taste like with hollandaise sauce and caramelized potatoes.

Oh and I'd be talking to Hugo Chavez in the meantime.

Las citas desesperadas, parte 2

2008-07-11T02:22:00.004-04:00

La pregunta mas logica que se hace el lector probablemente es la siguiente: porque acceder a una cita con un hombre que no te gusta?

Pues respondo: Conoci a uno de mis mejores amigos de esa forma- una cita a ciegas fallida - y mi primer novio era mas feo que un rinoceronte con acne, pero es una de las personas mas dulces que conozco. A estas alturas una nunca sabe donde radica la felicidad.

En fin, continuo con mi relato. Como les comente en la primera parte de esta entrada, mi cita estaba por la fase restaurante cuando el tipo me cuenta que de acuerdo con las leyes del Qur'an, la base del Islam, un hombre no debe tener contacto con una mujer, a menos que este sea bendecido por Allah. Casualmente me pregunta si yo estaria de acuerdo en ir con el a la mezquita para cumplir este requisito. Pues les cuento que a pesar de su pronunciada calvicie, y asi sentado de forma que no se le veia el cuerpo, hasta atractivo me estaba pareciendo el tipo. Era masculino, ojos azules..no estaba mal completamente, a decir verdad. Incluso cuando salimos del restaurante, me anime a tomarle de la mano. Le conteste que si...y hasta agrege "por que no?"

Me subi a su coche y el me menciono que si no me importaba, iba a pasar por su mezquita para cumplir con el requisito y "salir de eso". No se realmente si soy asi de estupida o si este dia fue especial, pero el hecho es que accedi, y media hora despues entraba con 3 mujeres mas, descalza, a una mezquita tambaleante en el medio de Patterson, New Jersey.

Una vez adentro, (la entrada para hombres es mas amplia y adornada) comenzo el Hafiz a repetir una serie de estrofas que decian primero los hombres, y luego nosotras, las mujeres. En un momento en que se agruparon los hombres a orar, me quito el velo (prestado) de la cabeza para acomodarmelo y se me acerca una bonita joven que me explica que no debo hacer eso.

"disculpa, es que no sabia, es la primera vez que vengo"
"ah si? Bendito sea Allah, que le dio claridad y paciencia de casarse con una mujer de otra religion"
"Casarse?!"

Entonces las mujeres de la mezquita me miraron como si yo tuviera una quinta cabeza.

"CASARSE?!" repeti, esta vez mas fuerte.

Entonces sali de alli, zapatos en mano, mientras el tipo me gritaba que ante los ojos de Allah teniamos un compromiso, y que le estaba faltando al respeto al salir asi. Dure 2 horas y media en llegar a mi casa en Manhattan desde Patterson, y apenas pude dormir, pensando en que me habia casado, y que venia Allah, personalmente, a reclamarme mis deberes de esposa.

Fue entonces que le hable a un colega musulman, a las 2AM, para preguntarle si la boda estaba efectuada. Entre risas y burlas, creo que lo que dijo fue que aparentemente me salve, pues faltaron algunos 5 estribillos mas que recitar antes de estar atada al calvito por el resto de mis dias.

SCAM

2008-07-09T10:50:00.003-04:00

"Buenas Noches, mi nombre es Tirana, tengo 77 cuentas de correo electronico"

La verdad es que tener varias cuentas de correo es algo bastante comun, pero el motivo de esta entrada en el blog es para discutir los engaños que existen alli, en tu propio inbox. Por ejemplo, existe el clasico del politico perseguido que necesita una cuenta de banco para depositar una suma gigante de dinero y poder escapar del pais (usualmente en la india o Cote d'ivoire), o la esposa Cristiana de un militar asesinado que acaba de descubrir que tiene cancer y quiere donar los bienes del marido (2 Millones y medio) a la iglesia. En fin, asi hay miles de buitres buscando la forma de obtener tu cuenta de banco, y asi (no se donde) hay cientos de personas que caen en sus trampas, perdiendo miles y miles de dolares en el proceso. Es por eso que he decidido añadirme a la lista de buitres y crear mi propio scam. Espero que les guste.

33 Calle De Los Martires
Cielo, Sector Catolico

Estimad@ Señor@

Mi nombre es Jesus de Nazareth, espero haya usted escuchado alguna vez de mi. Le escribo este correo desde la gracia de Dios, sentado a su lado derecho. Este mensaje es enviado por la razon de que durante mi tiempo perdido entre los humanos, en mis años de juventud, acapare una inmensa fortuna que escondi en un lugar de la tierra. En estos momentos, debido a las demandas de abuso infantil de los que son acusados los curas en la tierra, me veo obligado a ayudar personalmente de modo economico a la Santa Iglesia Catolica y Apostolica Romana, que esta en crisis.

Debido a que no se en quien confiar dentro de la iglesia, le pido a usted, sant@ sea, que me envie su numero de cuenta de banco o su tarjeta de debito junto con su numero de identificacion personal para poder depositar ese dinero. Mis abogados se comunicaran luego con usted para organizar lo del retiro de fondos. Como recompensa por la molestia, le ofrezco la suma de 75 billones de dolares, los cuales convertiran a bill gates en su esclavo personal; vida eterna en el cielo, e incluso he entablado negociaciones con mis colegas musulmanes para organizar el tramite de algunas virgenes. Si es mujer, no van a ser varias virgenes, sino un solo hombre con potencia descomunal, que lave platos, le guste llevarla al ballet y cambie el papel higienico cuando se termine.

Le pido por favor que no comente con nadie que ha recibido usted un mensaje de Jesus, pues no suelo hacer este tipo de cosas y pensaran mal de usted y de mi. Si viola usted este mandamiento, le aseguro que tengo el poder de convertirlo en Judio y meterlo en Alemania en la decada de los 30. Confio en que al depositar esta confianza en usted, no salga decepcionado, y nadie se tenga que enterar de las veces que usted jugo al doctor con su prim@ en el cuarto de la tia.

Esperando prontamente su respuesta, con la gracia de Dios y toda la misericordia del mundo.

Jesus De Nazareth, Esq.
Gerente de Finanzas

Por cierto, si esta interesado, vendo tickets a un concierto privado de Bon Jovi en el Madison Square Garden, a $900, por ebay. Comuniquese para mas detalles

Concurso

2008-07-08T15:17:00.003-04:00

Alan, de Humor Por Horas, ha puesto un post sobre un concurso en Vinagre Asesino, otro chistosisimo blog que a veces frecuento.

Como veran, se trata de un video en Bombay TV, donde se eligen videos y se le agregan los subtitulos deseados.

esta es mi entrada oficial.

Las citas desesperadas

2008-07-06T23:43:00.004-04:00

Si bien esta ciudad es la mecca de la soledad, lo que mas hay es exceso de gente. Ya sea en el subterraneo, en el trabajo o en el supermercado, siempre hay alguien que esta dispuesto a invitarte a salir, y se da el caso de que a veces aceptas salir con alguien que no te gusta, solo por no tener otra cosa mejor que hacer.

Un buen ejemplo de esto fue el otro dia, cuando hice una cita para encontrarme con alguien recomendado por un colega de la oficina.

No estoy segura de porque accedi, pero lo cierto es que lo hice, y a la hora de la cita, lo vi al cruzar la calle y me dieron ganas de devolverme. El tipo llevaba los pantalones tan altos que podia morderse el cinturon sin bajar la cabeza. Cuando me reconocio (no habiamos visto en fotografia) ya era demasiado tarde para mirar atras. Incluso me detuve un momento para darle la razon a mi madre en voz baja: "si mami.. busco la manera de joderme la vida"

Caminamos juntos hasta la proxima avenida, y el tipo camino delante de mi, porque esta acostumbrado a ese tipo de cosas en su pais. Y la verdad es que me alegro, pues tuve la oportunidad de ver su caido derriere en un angulo perfecto, justo lo suficiente como para querer tirarmele encima a un carro.
El carro se detuvo justo a tiempo para recogernos (era un taxi) y llevarnos a un restaurante, donde el tipo ordeno por mi y me dijo que el alcohol era para personas impuras. Mientras hablaba, yo me imaginaba todas las otras cosas impuras que yo habia hecho en mi vida. Me sonrei un poco, y el tipo, a medio ahorcar con su cinturon al cuello, me lo tomo como una invitacion sexual.

Mas tarde continuare el relato de como escape de algo peor que la muerte, a manos (y pies) de este verdugo.. hasta luego.

Thought of the day

2008-07-02T23:53:00.004-04:00

I hope DMV goes up in flames.

Thank you.

Thought Of The Day

2008-07-02T02:37:00.003-04:00

5 things I'm glad I know before I turn 30.

1) I'm not a lesbian. Despite the fact that in society it is common nowadays to burn the match at both ends, I'm relieved to know and trust the fact that I, in fact, am attracted to men. It saves a lot of time and helps in discerning which people you like as friends, which people you like as more than that, and which people you would have sex with if the only life remaining on earth was them, a cactus and rabid dog.

2)Being drunk actually sucks. Having spent most of my youth drinking or during a hangover, I've come to the realization that being drunk is not much fun. You smell like gutter, you act dumber than a doorknob and you are prone to either being easily offended or never offended - which can prove a problem in both instances: either you accuse people of grabbing your ass when they say hi, or they grab your ass and you say hi and nothing more.

3)I actually care what my parents think. I make my breakfast in the morning, pay my rent, dress up my daughter, take her to school, wash my own dishes, solve my own problems, do my own laundry, and sleep with the people i see fit. But if my parents tell me to do or not do something, the least I do is stop and think about it. Yep.. I'm a hot turd, and proud of it.

4)Plants and pets need water. My daughter learned to speak a lot, fast and often. The reason was that if she didnt ask for something by name, chances were I'd change her diaper 6 times and give her milk 4 times, when in fact all she wanted was a toy. Plants and animals are not lucky enough to posess adjustable vocal cords, so instead they give you signs: plants get yellow, pets pass out. Unfortunately, unlike a child, by the time this happens it's probably too late. I'm glad that I've observed this in my vast travels throughout the world.

5)When you talk to yourself in the subway, making faces to play it off is not any better. Many times I remember a joke, or wonder what it'd be like if i start running around the car yelling "this little light of mine, i'm gonna let it shiiine", and i cant help but smile, only to notice that the people in the train are looking for the nearest exit. I used to try to play it off by pretending my nose was itchy, or i had facial paralisis. I am glad that I understand that this doesn't work, because at my age, I should have settled down to talking to myself in my car, while I pick my nose at the traffic lights.

Old Lady and Shoe. NC-17 Version.

2008-06-30T23:48:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, in the red white and blue,
there was an old lady who lived in a shoe
in the day she rented it out to some hoes,
in the night she slept in it, just her and her boys

It's too bad that the lady had no common sense
for the boys and the hoes fucked away on the fence,
some neighbors even sued her, others just moved
all because of their conduct, considered quite lewd

The shame of it all didnt quite end right there
for the old lady sunbathed on the laces, quite bare
her wrinkled-up skin attracting the ticks
her dirty ol' shoe smellin of hoes and tricks

'twas a shame when they found her, all stinky an dry
found her dead in the shoe, with a mouthful of flies
seems the boys got to fucking all they could, all around,
there were dogs, cats and chickens, and rabbit holes in the ground
so in the end the old lady, who lived in a shoe
died by her son's hornyness, with an assfull of goo.

*okay, that may have been crude, but those were the only ones that rhymed..hope you dont read this before your morning coffee.

About To Make A Mistake

2008-06-30T23:32:00.006-04:00

"noo.. he really doesn't seem like a stalker type. I'm sure his ex overreacted"

"yeah, the ground feels pretty steady at this point here, i'm sure we can make it across"

"dont worry, I'll pull out in time"

"He's a big boy, he doesn't need to be tied up or heavily sedated for a silly root canal"

"If that dog is so mean how come he always jumps with joy when he sees me? wanna see?"

"of course it's unloaded, look through the hole!"

"His intentions are very serious. He already told his parole officer he's back to dating"

The Magnificent June

2008-06-30T22:49:00.003-04:00

Because - as i've heard repeatedly over the past few days - I'm so submissive and i always do what i'm told, when it was suggested to me that I should do a "month in review" posting summarizing June, I had no choice but to take the penis out of my trachea and start typing. In summary, the following things happened in June:

I got a roommate.
He's foreign, He's gay, he's not here to stay. A week in, he said he was leaving, moving to a cheaper place in Queens. Too bad, because I had gotten used to doing someone else's dishes and was starting to enjoy the feeling of cold water on my ass in the middle of the night everytime I sat down on the toilet to find that the seat was up. I even had the toilet seat removed. Oh yeah, I'm extreme, baby.

I had a silent argument.
I have never been angrier without a word being uttered... Oh, but i didnt bottle it up, no siree. Instead, with my newfound free time, and explosive anger, I decided to write 30 posts this month, one per day. Sure, I wasnt getting laid, but being productive is all worth it. right? right? I said, right?!

I clambered pantless through my parent's livingroom window.
After a night out, nothing better than being discovered by a security guard, with no pants on, trying to break in to an apartment through a window from a dark hallway. Cellulite? oh, things like that dont worry me.

I fell in a coworker's bathroom, as I cut my toenails in his bathroom sink
Do I really need to go into more detail? I am trying to forget the whole experience, though a previous posting and a chiropractor remind me quite often.

I got another roommate. A lawyer.
Okay, so I will refrain from making odd comments on a seemingly nice fella: I'm just saying I hope he does his dishes, and he doesnt use his Kung Fu Law experience on me, cause I'll use my Xena Warrior Law Verbiage on him. "I am lawfully obliged to suggest that you cease and desist from leaving your crockpot unwashed, accordingly, heretowith leave your theretofor herein enclosed" ..poof..

I found StumbleUpon.
OMG.. OMG.. this thing is like the best thing EVA!.. i can actually sleep using one eye and still click on the stumble button all night long. I think I have lost more sleep during stumble than i did that time i caught up with all the seasons of LOST in one week. I've slept less than i did that time I stabbed that redneck in the Nevada desert and had to bury him before sunrise. woohoo!

I saw a psychic.
I've talked enough about that in previous posts. Besides, I'm convinced the dude just has some connections with 1800 US Search, TransUnion, Mount Sinai Hospital and my Aunt Taty in the Dominican Republic.

And thats all I can think of.. this is, of course, ignoring details like my upcoming parole, my abortion, my lost wooden leg and the two legged puppy my cat gave birth to. I hope your June has been as inspiring :)

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-30T22:27:00.003-04:00

The other day I was in the deli and there was a man buying a philly and two 40-ounce beers with his daughter's food-stamps card. I know this because he negotiated with his daughter in front of the counter that because one of the beers belonged to her and she was "gonna smoke half", he only really owed her for a beer and half a philly.

Similarly, a few months back I saw a woman at mcdonalds meeting up with her mom for breakfast. The old lady asked her daughter if she could pay for her meal, and the woman said she would, but things were tough, so she should be mindful of asking in the future. A few minutes later, the real reason for the meeting was revealed when a homeless woman sold the daughter some pills for 50 bucks a pop, as they quietly had their meal.
which makes me wonder:

1) what do I personally have to do to avoid a mastectomy if I say "but" anything if my mom asks me for something?
2) what exactly will my father do to me if i ask him to buy a philly for me?
3) how does one start on this path to complete freedom between parent and child? is it sort of "hey mom, can i bring elmo to school?", "NO" , "Fuck you bitch!" ?

It hardly seems fair for some kids to have all the fun. I say let's show our parents what it means to live in the land of the free.

Funny Things I Heard or Overheard This Week

2008-06-30T21:27:00.007-04:00

"I cant give you a copy, I already sent it by fax"
a teller in a check cashing place
.. Yes.. Because the new HP Fax Machine has 3 features: Copy, Fax, Destroy all paper put in the slot and turn it into confetti.

"Hey, Saida? how've you been girl?!"
a collections agent, on the phone.
Oh I've been fine old friend, Thank you for asking. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, but you see, I find that we have different points of view: you think I should give you money, I think you should stop calling me and go fuck your mother.

"Oh, I'm a waiter now, but I plan on traveling the world soon"
When asking my roommate's boyfriend what he does for a living.
...Really? wow. Let me ask you, if you dont mind.. will you be joining the other million people with that dream on the unemployment line, before or after you acquire a drug habit out of depression when you realize you can't really drive to Australia?

"Promise me you wont look at another man"
A Mexican man telling a white woman on the A train.
Oh, Juan.. you are safe vato, don't you worry. You see, she cannot possibly look at another man. White women close their eyes when they're fucking. Besides, if she's dating you, I'm sure she has some serious vision problems which, lucky for you, prevent her from seeing the "anita greencard" t-shirt you are wearing.

"Punch them? You mean in the face?"
a friend, when informed that in Dominican Republic butchers punch chickens to startle them before cutting their heads off.
It's a complicated process. Butchers train for months in accuracy and speed in order to accomplish this task. They go to special places which can be translated as "poultry gym", where they have a spotter rooster that trains with them, until they can throw a minimum of 3 knockout punches per round. Even after all this training, I've heard that some chickens go up to 8 rounds, only to have the butcher give up and adopt it as his own. Thats why there are so many pet chickens in DR.

A: " Are you sleepy?"
B: "No, Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"
A: Joe, lying his ass off (which is a lot of lying to do) and B: Me, falling asleep supposedly 5 seconds afterwards.
Though this doesnt really count as overhearing, I have fallen victim of his evil plans to make me seem less cool than I am. I do not believe this is true, and in fact believe that it was he who fell asleep and somehow bent the space time continuum to steal 15 minutes from my life...I was sleepy though, I remember that much.

Submissive Skeptic

2008-06-29T23:04:00.005-04:00

Nope. Noway, nohow. I am not going to a psychic reading. Those things are made for idiots who have money to squander away in lottery tickets and paid porn, and then wonder why they're single, living in a shared apartment, stealing food from the office refrigerator. I am not one of those people.

Nope, forget it, not happening. I will not pay 21 bucks for a psychic reading. The money they make is used for running credit checks on unsuspecting idiots and buying incense and expensive cigarrettes with which to smother you so your senses dont work properly during the bullshit festival.

Impossible. There is noway I'm letting this dude whip my body with some rosemary branches and a squawking chicken. First of all God knows how many times he's fucked that chicken or what he plans on doing with this crab-infested bird, but the rosemary branches are just a tad too creepy for my taste.

Fine, I'll go with you, but just know this: I will pay not a penny more than 21 bucks, and i am not even bothering with the buying the metrocard to head out there, so here's 4 bucks and you better buy it for me.

Yeah, fine, okay.. you bring the rosemary branches, I'll go hunt down a chicken. By the way, do you know who's sandwich that is in the fridge? it's been there for two days. I dont think anybody's gonna eat it.

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-25T09:48:00.002-04:00

I dont consider myself a very gullible person. As a matter of fact, i think i'm so incredulous that even when reality hits me in the face, I doubt it.

Some instances of incredible events, however, defy logic - and not because they can't be forged, but because the trouble the person has to go through to fake them isn't worth it, in my opinion.

At the same time, one cannot assume that someone who observes something about your life is a magician, or a psychic. want me to prove it? I'll give you a psychic reading right now, just for you.

**

You are a smart person, and you know it. You only wish you had the opportunity to show it at your job. There's no need for you to exert yourself, they already know you're their best asset. I see that you often have problems in the bone..its either your knee or your back. You should also get your lungs checked, you are often out of air.
You sometimes feel guilty about your relationship with your family. You wish you could be closer, and sometimes have bad thoughts which just makes you feel guiltier. Stop blaming yourself for things that go bad.

**

I'd continue but my crystal ball got foggy from me laughing on it.

Como Toda Una Dama

2008-06-23T01:52:00.002-04:00

No he conocido una mujer mas dama que mi mama. Nunca dice algo inapropiado, sus chistes no pasan de color rosa y siempre sale airosa de situaciones dificiles. Siempre he tratado de seguir sus consejos, a pesar de que me parecen un tanto inapropiados para mi vida diaria.. algo asi como la filosofia de Descartes en una pelea de cuchillos.

El problema es que la gran mayoria de disyuntivas morales en las que me encuentro son situaciones que ni yo le contaria a ella ni ella a mi. Por ejemplo, no creo que mi mama ha salido con un hombre y este halla querido que se la toque en un cine..no que ese sea un problema, pero como comes el popcorn sin perderte la pelicula mientras te lavas las manos?. Tampoco creo que mi mama ligaria a alguien por internet y se pregunte como decirle que esta todo bien para que pase un rato pero no para quedarse a dormir. Y si le habria sucedido, no creo que me lo diria, ni yo querria que lo hiciera.

Entonces cuando me hacen una propuesta indecente, talvez parezca raro, pero lo primero que me imagino es mi mama, diciendome "a mi no me metas en tus cochinadas! bajate esa falda, comportate como una dama!"

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-23T01:34:00.002-04:00

It always seems interesting to me how cultural differences can affect one's judgment of sanity. Make your child carry a bucket of water in Haiti? you're making your child appreciate hard work. Do it in New York, you will soon receive a visit from ACS.

The other day I was speaking to a friend and he mentioned how it is inconceivable that a man and a woman would be friends in his country. I was apalled at this statement. What would society be if men and women couldn't interact unless it was for mating purposes?
Then I remembered how I had an argument with an ex about him having a foreign female friend sleep over at his one bedroom apartment. What is the difference between friendship and sexual tension? Is sleeping in the same bed with a person of the opposite sex any different than talking to them every night before you go to sleep?

I suppose you're friend of your friend till you think of them otherwise.

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-22T02:35:00.002-04:00

If you call me once and I dont answer, I'm not home. If you call me twice and dont hear from me, I'm busy. If you call me three times and I dont get back to you, i'm sleeping over at my mom's for a few days. If you call me 4 times, leave me a message at work and send me an email, it's very unlikely that i went camping and was eaten by wolves, or that I had a car accident and hit my head so i dont remember your number.
Truth is, it is very likely that i dont want to talk to you, so please avoid the embarrassment of repeating your phone number slowly into the voicemail, or slipping a handwritten note under my apartment door.

SCREW YOU FRIGGING COLLECTION AGENCIES!!!

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-20T21:16:00.003-04:00

not thinking much.. actually wait a minute.. I am!

I was just thinking about how i dont have much time to just think. I am the epitome of multitasking. I pee while I brush my teeth, I shower while I yell at my daughter to get up, I do my bed as I get dressed, I cook while I clean, I daydream when I work, I eat while I answer my email, I think only when I'm reading or browsing the internet. I havent been able to sit, do nothing but think.

Maybe thats what keeps me in my current state. If you base your decisions on a quick thought instead of cosidering the spectrum of "could be" that may follow, then your whole life becomes a reflex, a flash, the smell of rain before the actual rain comes. ok, so maybe that last one was kind of lame, but you get the idea.

Maybe I should follow Dora the explorer's advice. "Lets stop and think!"

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-19T01:07:00.002-04:00

Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften.
The Man without Qualities. Keep this in mind.

When I introduced my first boyfriend to my father, on valentines day 1994, my father smiled and politely said to me in Spanish (so the boyfriend wouldnt understand) what can be loosely translated as "perhaps the monkey would like a banana, or some tea?"

Then my father met my first husband,(what do you see in that Tucan-faced drugdealer wannabe?), my second boyfriend("what does this one do for a living? clean pipes from the inside?" - as per his slim and tall frame), my second husband ("oh, this one's goodlooking.. is he crazy?" *which turned out to be the case) and each time he was more dissappointed, not in me, but in my horrendous taste in men.

I go against all good judgement in my search for masculine peace. Nothing more satisfying to me than the joy of silence and quiet when combined with passion - to the point that for a long time I was irrevocably attracted to semi-desperate men who were extremely boring.

What do I offer in return? that's a more difficult question. Perhaps my trouble has been that I go to the store without money, so to speak. Perhaps I should be looking for someone that I can afford. Perhaps, being Der Frau ohne Eigenschaften, I should be looking for my equal.

would that be so bad? have I been doing it all along to my father's discontent?

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-18T03:24:00.002-04:00

The world's basic human necessities are all charged for. Electricity for light, water for drinking, heat for surviving, shelter from the elements, gas for transportation, care for the sick, in some instances sex, and in some others the right to reproduce - all come at a cost. Even oxygen isn't free when one is in dire need of it.

It makes one wonder, what's next? If every basic need has a corresponding agency or establishment that charges to provide it, it is logical to assume that if there is anything left that the human species needs in order to lead a civilized life, it will be the next hottest commodity.

Invest in shit, anyone?

Un Poema Del Verano Pasado, Que Decidi Sacar Nuevamente.

2008-06-17T00:22:00.001-04:00

Un dia, cuando el sol nacia,

Se levanto hambrienta una vieja arpia

Busco en su alacena y no hallo nada,

Y se le antojo desayunarse un' Ada.

Monto entonces su caballo, viejo y flaco,

Y ando por el monte encuera y sin zapatos.

Al ver rebotar sus arrugados cueros,

Los duendes del monte se quedaron ciegos.

La vieja cabalgo por varias horas,

Mientras los arboles quedaban sin hojas,

Las hermosas flores quedaron marchitas,

Las grandes montañas se hicieron chiquitas

Mas siguio cabalgando la vieja arrugada,

Y buscando y buscando encontro a su Ada,

Pero de tanto cabalgar se le pelo el culo,

Y del asco el caballo se hecho al cuello un nudo.

Los arboles pelados, El Sol muerto de risa,

Un maldito calor, las flores marchitas,

La vieja arrugada, el ano pelado,

Y fue asi que empezo el maldito verano.

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-16T20:34:00.003-04:00

The gay advantage...

I was talking to my roommate about the things men do and he wondered why it's normal in New York for people to date a few times and then disappear. I explained to him that because this is a lonely city, disappearing at least leaves window for an excuse and a reconciliation, as opposed to just breaking up. By using this tactic, it's much more convenient to contact someone you disappeared on and keep them on standby.

He proceeded to tell my that as a gay man, he was inclined to go and show up at an ex's apartment, someone who disappeared on him.

"to yell at him and make a scene?" I asked

"no" he responded. "to beat the shit out of him".

wow.. it may seem simple, but this is an eye opener for me. It hadn't ocurred to me that in a same-sex relationship, the parties are equal. If you see two men fighting in the street, you get out of the way and dont ask questions, hoping their fist-throwing doesnt land on your face. If you see a man and a woman fighting.. well.. lets just say it doesnt last very long for many many reasons.

wanna be equal? be gay!

Lo Mejor de Lo Mejor del Mundo

2008-06-16T02:12:00.003-04:00

Soy adicta a la lectura. Y cuando digo lectura, me refiero al internet, porque decir "soy adicta al internet" suena un poco "looser". Trae imagenes de pornografia (jesus! yo?? jamas!) y cosas perversas.

No se que tanto tiempo habra estado alla afuera esta nueva droga, pero tengo ya tres dias sin dormir despues de que descubri stumbleupon.com

Una tras otra, esta barra me trae paginas de lo que a mi se me ocurra pedirle, sin tener que dar clicks innecesarios, como es el caso en google cuando se hace una busqueda. Cada cinco minutos digo "ok, ya el ultimo" y dos horas mas tarde sigo pegada al monitor. No se que voy a hacer. Es que no he estado tan emocionada desde que cabalgue el chivo homosexual de mi difunto abuelo.

En fin, le doy mi mas alta recomendacion, pero ojo, si estas peleado/a con tu pareja, dejalo para un momento en que quieras hacerle ver que no te importan sus amenazas de suicidio.

este link de abajo fue uno de los que me dio mas risa en la pagina. vean la /foto 10.
se cagaran de la risa..jeje

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-14T23:57:00.004-04:00

"if they give you hot milk and you get burned, you will want to blow when they give you ice cream"- Turkish proverb

Our creator has doted us with contradicting responses. Take someone who is afraid of heights. When standing at a point of altitude, they get dizzy. If their instinct was accurately set up, then they should actually get more lucid, able to see things clearly, able to stand firmly, attached to the surface they are stepping on.

The same occurs for people who find themselves attracted to a person that isn't beneficial to them. Not only do they desire proximity with this person, but also they are not made completely bad, so that reason can kick in and snap them out of the spell. These non-recommended people are constructed to have qualities that make them enticing.

The worst part of all, is that you get enough of these non-recommended people together, and the experiences become a blur, making you unable to distinguish what is beneficial and what isn't.

Every now and then, a clean slate is necessary, painful as it may be.

Cagney and Lacey

2008-06-14T01:43:00.005-04:00

I have a balcony. Well, not really a balcony, more like an unfinished fire escape thing useful for what i can only think would be a pier for a small boat if New York ever flooded. About an hour ago, i climbed out on it and started taking pictures of the night, something I used to do some time ago and will hopefully continue doing.

You can imagine how weird it must be for you to be sitting in your living room and suddenly see flashes coming from a "balcony" a few buildings away, so i try my best to remember to remove the flash before taking the photos. Tonight though, I forgot twice. Maybe it was the vodka running through my veins, maybe I wanted to get caught to get some human interaction, but point is, i did get caught by someone who was smoking, one floor up, in their bathroom. He asked me what I was doing, a black man in his fifties, with everything from arthritis to toenail fungus, as he so eloquently explained. As he saw me take a sip of a tall glass, he asked what i was drinking and I offered him a drink. He accepted, and I climbed up my window as he reached down, grabbing my drink.

I dont know how it happened, but we ended up talking about Cagney and Lacey in that TV show in the 80's. He drank all my vodka, and now i'm going to a barbecue in his church tomorrow.

yeah!

A La Moda

2008-06-14T00:45:00.004-04:00

En las sobreusadas palabras de Adal Ramones:

Verdad que es bonito ponerse unos pantalones a la moda, zapatos de tacon, y meterte en un bar con las amigas hasta las 3 AM?!! verdad que es bonito??

Pues NOOOO!!!

Sucede que por cuestiones de pobreza me he metido a vivir con un roommate. El tipo es alto, cabello oscuro - un italiano de ojos azules con los brazos tan grandes como..como..sus deseos de hacer el amor con el vecino. No, ya les digo, no tengo suerte. Es algo asi como tener marido sin beneficios. El tipo me deja la tapa del excusado arriba, no saca la basura, no limpia los platos, y le molesta el ruido. Fue asi que cuando me propuse a salir a un bar el otro dia, decidi ir a dormir a casa de mis padres, ya que podia llegar mas tranquila, y mi imagen de mujer seria no seria afectada en lo mas minimo.

El edificio donde viven mis padres es algo interesante. Tiene un porton de hierro en el frente, y despues entra uno a una especie de lobby abierto, estilo hotel, en el que se ven las ventanas de los apartamentos desde el pasillo, como la foto que esta arriba. Pero multiplicandola por 100, mas o menos, pues es de 5 pisos y una cuadra a la redonda. Pero bueno, el tema es el de mis pantalones.

Pues me engancho mis Skinny jeans, unos tacones, una blusita corta y salgo de parranda.

Al final de la noche, con unos tragos encima, llego al porton de la casa y noto que no me dieron las llaves. El intercom no sirve y decido volarme el porton, que tiene algunos 15 pies de altura: 20, si calculas los tragos que llevaba encima. Me quito los zapatos, dejandolos del lado de adentro y procedo a subirme con mis pantalones super-apretados poco a poco al porton. La tarea es extremadamente ardua, me tomo casi media hora subir unos pies, y cuando llevaba ya 8-9 pies mas o menos arriba, el guardia de seguridad salio de su casilla alarmado, y tratando de sonar preocupado en vez de burlon, me dice, "venga joven, se va a caer de ahi, yo le abro!!"

Primer bochorno.

Me bajo, me pongo mis zapatos y camino sin decir nada hasta el apartamento de mis padres. Nuevamente, no tengo llaves, asi que decido tocar la puerta. Toco la puerta, la ventana de la sala de estar, y finalmente le tiro piedras a la ventana de mi hermana y nada. Nadie abre. Con el aire acondicionado nadie escucha nada.

Pues una persona racional llama un taxi y llega a su propia casa, verdad? pues yo preferi la otra opcion: entrar por la fuerza a casa de mis padres. Por suerte, una de las ventanas de alli no cierra por completo - aunque tampoco abre por completo- asi que casi me sale una hernia empujandola hacia arriba hasta abrirla lo suficiente como para meterme por alli. Pero una vez abierta, me di cuenta de que a pesar de que yo cabia, no habia manera de entrar con los pantalones, pues tenia que meter una pierna a la vez, y los jeans eran demasiado apretados.

Que me di por vencida? Vaya, todavia no me conocen!

Lo que hice fue quitarme los pantalones en el pasillo del edificio, y asi, despantalonada, meterme por la ventana.
Pues una vez quitados los pantalones, los meti al apartamento junto con los zapatos y meti la primera pierna por la ventana. Fue ahi cuando el mismo guardia de seguridad (esta vez con un inquilino que aparentemente me vio forzando la ventana)activo el sensor de la luz del pasillo y me descubrio sin pantalones en el. Y miren si es cruel el destino, que a pesar de casi tumbarle la puerta a mis padres lo unico que basto para que se despertaran fue que el guardia me preguntara, entre risas "joven, que hace, por dios?!". Mi Papa salio, a medio dormir, asustado, despertando a mi mama y a mi hermana solo para descubrirme sin pantalones en el pasillo, junto a un guardia y un inquilino, ambos doblados de la risa.

Eso si, que se despierte mil veces mi aburrido roommate antes de volver por alla de noche.

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-14T00:38:00.003-04:00

Where does one buy weed? I feel like their marketing is all wrong. You can't just go to a guy standing with his pants around his ankles in a housing project and ask him if he can provide you with a "nickel bag".. is that the current term for it?

I understand that the internet is also a source, but you shouldnt have to go hunt these sellers down. they should be eager to sell, with a complimentary tote bag for every purchase of 25 dollars or more. They should learn a thing or two from Macy's.

I say boycott the whole thing, until the stigma of approaching a fellow in the corner is phased out, and man or woman, senior or child is able to buy without repercussions from police AND merchant.

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-13T12:30:00.003-04:00

The desire to look young is obsolete. The desire to stay ignorant is far more valuable. If a person is 40 years old and looks 20, what is keeping him or her from starting life back in their 20's once again? Nothing, except their own consciousness.
However, people who lose their memory can start over, ignorant of what society mandates, blissful in their younger life, worrying only of what they did learn and forgot. So you see, learning, seeing, understanding is the problem.
Stop learning. Live forever.

The Word

2008-06-13T12:19:00.002-04:00

Humanity had been finished long ago, and they were the last people remaining on earth. The Seven, they called themselves.
They had been holed up in a cave for over 65 years, a cave that had been conditioned by the last 103 humans when the catastrophe occurred. It had an aqueduct that drained water from the surface and filtered it through the rocks, a mouth for sunlight, which must have looked like a termite mound on the outside, a small plantation of meticulously cared-for tomatoes and a drainage system that stopped working 2 years back, when the last maintenance man – an angry bastard who never wanted to teach anyone to do his job- died. Since then, no full baths were allowed: they could only use up as much water as the ground could absorb overnight, despite the constant supply.

The original settlers had initially done their best to salvage what they could: grains, people, customs, history, images. They passed down stories to the children, but after the first 20 years had passed, an outbreak of despair ruled. People started committing suicide, and the council elceted to keep order made it forbidden to speak about problems, laments were outlawed, and reminiscing of life on the outside was frowned upon. It was a matter of survival – either move on or keep feeling sorry for themselves and those lost. From that point on everyone said only what was necessary, friendships were unreasonable, monosyllabic words were the norm –that is, until the last council died, 6 months back from the beginning of this story.

There was unrest before his death, since the remaining had lost hope with the death of the last woman. They wanted to save themselves: not out of self-preservation, but out of a desire to pass history to whatever life form may come next, as a warning, or a talent show.
Once the council was dead, it was time to remember. They had spent the last months trying to bring back and share every piece of information they could gather from their minds. The name of a book, a child’s song, a figure of speech, a piece of history- everything was carefully noted in a notebook, and set aside. Every word, every sound, every image was brought to light, dissected, enjoyed by all. They had never been so happy.

Then one day, the record keeper found that a piece of a page in the notebook was missing. One of them, the Seven, had deliberately ripped off this small, square piece of paper. But for what purpose!? He brought it up to the group and, scandalized, they all decided that one of them needed the piece of paper to write something. But what? Too small a paper for a story, it had to be a small thing. Just a word.

A word. But which? They had written down all the words they remembered. They shared, that was the only way. One of them was greedy, He must share! just had to! Who was it?

For days they dwelled on who it could be, and allegations were rampant. Then, after the week was done, fights between them broke out: “greedy bastard!” “give it to me” “you know something, tell us!” , and these once pacific and happy old men were suddenly bitter and violent. It was as if their momentary freedom had escaped them once again.
One day, two woke to find that one of them had killed 4 others. He had slit their throats in their sleep and gone through their things, but the piece of paper was nowhere in sight. The word... Perhaps the culprit had swallowed the paper and it was not to be found again. Horrified, the remaining three resorted to accusing each other, and soon yet another one was fatally wounded. As he gasped for air helplessly and he felt the presence of death, he scoffed and mouthed out the words “not me”.

Only two left. One, knife in hand, the other calm, in a corner of the cave, accepting his fate. As the knife approached him, he smiled, as one who is freed after a long jail sentence. Even when the knife violently dug its way to his artery, he smiled still, looking up at their Sun, the small ray illuminating his face and the tomatoes.

“Tell me”, the murderer said.

The man closed his eyes, let himself drown in his own death, and even had time to feel sorry for the surviving murderer. Softly, but in a clear voice, unbroken by the knife and the life leaking from him in sudden bursts, he said “catharsis…” and added “but it’s still mine”, as he let the blank piece of paper roll out of his sweaty hand.

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-12T15:58:00.002-04:00

It's my boss' fault. All of it. If I wasn's so pissed at my job, i wouldnt be tense, if I wasn't tense I wouldnt be cranky, if i wasnt cranky I would have gotten home in a good mood, if I was in a good mood, I would have cooked. If I would have cooked, I'd be hot, despite the AC. Since I wasnt hot, and made myself a sandwich instead, I went to bed to read a book. Since I read the book and was already in bed, I went to bed without taking a shower. So it's my boss' fault. all of it.

Dont let it happen to you.

Lo Que Te Puede Suceder

2008-06-12T02:28:00.000-04:00

Facilmente, un dia te despiertas con deseos de ver una pelicula. Supongamos que esta película sea…no se.. Die Hard, o “duro de matar” su titulo en español. Pues vas a la tele, pones la pelicula, y te propones hacer un café. Sacas los fosforos para prender la estufa y quemas 4 antes de darte cuenta de que se te esta apagando porque están mojados. Sacas el encendedor, pero recuerdas que la razón de no usarlo radica en que este no ha tenido liquido encendedor en 2 meses. Entonces sacas el contenedor para llenarlo otra vez, y te das cuenta de que prefieres tirarte encima un T-shirt y bajar a comprar café hecho antes que tener que hacerlo tu mismo y tener que fregar la cafetera. Mientras tu película esta puesta, te metes al cuarto y sacas el contenido de una de tus gavetas para buscar algo que ponerte. Entre esto, revistas porno y hasta la novena del niño Jesús que te regalo la vecina salen volando hasta que encuentras un T-shirt. Al salir de casa, dejas la puerta abierta porque no tienes tiempo de buscar tus llaves, y te devuelves a buscar tu cartera y la basura, que tiene una semana sin salir. Sales de la casa por fin, y notas que saliste de tu edificio sin dejar la basura, asi que andas hacia la cafetería con un bolso de basura maloliente, la que no sabes donde dejar. Te paras en una esquina y miras alrededor, esperando que esos policías no se fijen en ti, y no te peguen una multa por dejar la basura en un contenedor publico. Estas nervioso, y casi te mueres del pánico cuando escuchas la explosión.

Alguien puso una bomba en el bote de la basura. Los policías se acuerdan de ti y te preguntan que fue lo que pusiste en la basura, pero no tienes una respuesta lógica. Te preguntan que estabas haciendo por ahí, y le dices que comprando un café, pero no te creen, porque vives cerca. Los llevas a tu casa, y lo primero que ven es la película donde todo sale volando por los aires tras una explosión, además de que encuentran 4 fósforos quemados y un contenedor de líquido incendiario en la estufa, la cual dejaste con el gas abierto, y ahora tu casa está en riesgo de una explosión. Antes de que puedas decir nada, entran a tu cuarto y lo primero que ven es la novena del niño Jesús, lo que según ellos, indica que te estabas despidiendo para morir, frente a un inminente ataque suicida. Mientras ellos reportan por radio lo encontrado a la manada de policías que está afuera atendiendo a la explosión del basurero, uno de esos pendejos prende un cigarro en tu casa y vuelan todos.

Ahora estas en el circulo 10 del infierno, por terrorista, y te lamentas de no haberte afiliado con Osama, pues por lo menos su pent-house es mas grande. Es gracioso como suceden las cosas, eh?

Thought Of The Day

2008-06-11T18:26:00.002-04:00

When you have a heavy thought, a burden or problem, something that bothers you, something that you wish to eliminate from your life but you cant, keep it to your own damn self. Nobody wants to hear that shit.
What makes you think that sharing it with somebody else will make you feel any better, dumbass?!

Quien Me Entiende?

2008-06-10T16:25:00.004-04:00

El otro dia me entro una crisis existencial despues de un e-mail reenviado de esos chistes de Mujeres Vs. Hombres. Talvez parezca algo tonto, pero me di cuenta de lo dificil que realmente soy, y me di cuenta por quinta vez que las probabilidades de que yo muera sola en un atico y que nadie se entere de ello hasta que las ratas me hayan comido, crecen exponencialmente cada dia. El formato de lo siguiente les parecera familiar, pero el contenido es mio. Esta es mi ideologia.

El tipo me llama: "que hombre que jode!"
El tipo no me llama: "y quien se cree este pendejo?"

Me enamora: "atrevido!"
No me enamora: "Comemierda!"

La tiene grande: " Bestia"
La tiene chica: " Ni lo senti"

Termina Rapido: "eso y ya?!"
Dura Mucho: "no pensara terminar hoy?"

Trabaja mucho: "nunca tiene tiempo para mi"
Trabaja poco: "es un flojo, un haragan!"

Se lleva bien con su familia: "Bebe de mamita"
No se lleva bien con su familia: "Algo habra hecho el indecente!"

No tiene amigos: "antisocial!"
Tiene Amigos: "parrandero!"

Juega con mi hija: "ojo! los pedofilos andan rampantes!"
No juega con mi hija: " Antipatico, ni creas que te vuelvo a ver!"

Cuida su cuerpo: "metrosexual, guacala!"
No cuida su cuerpo: "es un cochino, guacala!"

No ve mis blogs/paginas: "no le intereso al bobo ese!'
Ve mis blogs/paginas 1 vez al dia: "seguro que lo hace por rutina el muy aburrido"
Ve mis blogs/paginas mas de 1 vez al dia: "es un anormal obsesivo!!"

Hasta yo misma me detesto.. blah!

Sabado "A Lo Musulman"

2008-06-09T01:11:00.006-04:00

Pregunta:

Que hace La Tirana en un super-caluroso dia de fin de semana como el que se dio este Sabado en New York?

Respuesta:
Lo mismo que hace todos los dias, buscar la forma de complicarse la vida.

Pues sucede que este fin de semana se me ocurrio aceptar una invitacion a la casa de un señor que trabaja conmigo. El tipo es Musulman - lo cual es aceptable, pues nadie es perfecto- y se suponia que iba a ser un dia relajante, entre cervezas y barbacoas, tomando sol en el patio de su casa, mientras me relajaba en una silla plastica, mojada por el Splash de la piscina.
Si usted, estimado lector, detuvo este relato para decir "pero los musulmanes no toman alcohol!", pues permitame decirle que este es un detalle que se le escapo a su servidora...Continuo.

Vale decir que a pesar de que naci en Kiev y he vivido por los ultimos 15 años en los Estados Unidos, creci hasta los 10 en la Republica Dominicana. Digo esto para explicar que la nocion del tiempo y la puntualidad, tanto para mi como para todos mis compatriotas Dominicanos, no existe.

Pues el señor me dice que me pasa a recoger a las 2pm, y – el muy tonto - llega a las 2 en punto. Es decir, me tiene que esperar 45 minutos – cosa que mi hija Zuri (de 4 años) aprovecha para relatarle todos los aspectos de mi vida: que tengo 28 años, que tengo 3 años de divorciada, que hace mucho que no tengo novio, etc., cosa que continuo - a pesar de mis pellizcos - durante todo el camino a su casa.

Cuando finalmente llegamos, su esposa me sale a recibir muy cordial, y al entrar, se quita los zapatos. El hace lo mismo. Yo, mientras tanto, me quedo dizque admirando la casa desde afuera, pensando que hacer para no quitarme los susodichos. Tenia 3 opciones: 1) quedarme afuera con la niña, frente a la casa, e ignorar las alucinaciones causadas por la insolación, 2) mandar a la niña adentro, sola, para que contara detalles sobre la gaveta de ”los juguetes de mami” que no debe abrirse, mientras yo me aireaba los sudorosos pies, o 3) quitarme los zapatos y entrar, rogándole al Dios de los malos olores que me librara de su furia por las próximas 6 horas. Opte por lo último.

Pues bien, el Dios de los malos olores me escucho, y al fin y al cabo ni tan mal estaban mis pies- o talvez fue que el queso feta que me ofrecieron con galletas oculto el olor.

Una vez sentada, los nervios me atacan y decido que urgentemente, tengo que lavarme los pies. Pido permiso para ir al baño, me indican donde ir, y una vez allí subo un pie en el lavamanos, solo para notar que mis pies no huelen mal, pero las uñas de estos son un desastre. Por suerte, había allí un corta-uñas, y por supuesto, comencé a cortármelas.
Cuando era el turno de otro pie, me di cuenta de que tenía ya algunos 8 minutos en el baño (recuerden mi inexistente noción del tiempo) y decidí apurarme. Fue entonces que puse el pie mojado en el piso, y subí el otro pie al lavamanos.
Pues sí, mi inteligentísimo lector, me resbale. Me golpee tan fuerte en la espalda que tuve que quedarme unos minutos en el piso, secándome las lagrimas con el papel higiénico. Por suerte, estaba lo suficientemente lejos como para que no se escuchara mi caída, pero dure algunos 15 minutos adicionales entre el llorar frente a la ducha, buscarme el moretón, y buscar en el piso los restos de uñas cortadas que esparcí por todo el lugar. Sali de allí mojada y sudorosa, incitando comentarios de “te cayó mal el queso feta?” por el resto del dia, mientras Zuri, que me conoce como la palma de su mano, me preguntaba si me había caído en el baño otra vez. Y asi pase el resto del dia, con dolor de espalda, tomando agua (en vez de cerveza) y comiendo carne picante mientras alucinaba del calor. Ahora voy a tener que ir al medico por insolacion y dolor de espalda.

Continuaria esta larga historia, pero como ya mencione no tengo noción del tiempo y fácilmente duraría 3 horas contándola. Voy a darme una ducha caliente y a ponerme un parche medicinal.

if this isnt funny, i dont know what is..

2008-06-04T01:40:00.001-04:00

One Day Off.

2008-06-04T00:31:00.009-04:00

He woke up startled, with remnants of the strange dream he'd just had still echoing within him. What a long day awaited him! Still so much to do.

As He lay awake in bed, He thought of all the spreadsheets that needed to be completed, and all the matters in his inbox that needed attention. He didnt really have a supervisor, but still so many people needed his assistance, hoards of people, asking, needing, pleading.. always demanding, rarely giving anything in return. He was used to it, but he sometimes wanted to escape the pressure, as anybody can understand. Every now and then he would take a Diazequil PM tablet, to control his nerves at night. It's a tough thing, being in charge.

Through a force of habit, He went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, though He just had to pee. He used these few minutes to rest, feeling the cold of the bowl against his butt and thighs. And he was satisfied.

He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and considered taking a shower, but instead looked out of the window, and figured it was too cold, just one day without a shower won't kill him.

Then, suddenly, He took notice. This was a particularly quiet morning. By now, surely the phone would have rang, his email would be beeping, his doorbell ringing, announcing some pressing emergency. For a second he wondered if he had finished everything He needed to do, and as He walked out of the bathroom, it hit him.

He looked at the electronic calendar hanging on his refrigerator. It was Wednesday... and He went to bed on Monday night. Yes, it was Monday night. He remembered precisely, because He took his pill during halftime, during the Giants' game.

Panic took over him. His hands started shaking. Images of the people who needed his help and didn't get it invaded his brain. He was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But then He sat on the floor, got a hold of himself, and counted. One..Two.. Three...ten. He opened his eyes and turned on his monitor.

An earthquake and a cyclone. Few hundred thousand dead.
He finally took a deep breath. In reality, this was bad, but he'd done worse. It definitely wasnt like that year he had really bad allergies and benadryl made him drowsy, forcing him to ignore the jews for a bit. Or that time He went to play tennis and the whole slavery thing happened. He could work with it. He'd have to work hard in the area to reestablish faith in himself, He had to bring a few people back from the dead, warranting a few miracle stories. He'd somehow manage. He'd send a message to his publicist, saying that He was punishing some dubious collective sin.

Sure, He felt bad, but truth is, He kind of needed that day off.

In Memoriam

2008-06-02T23:24:00.004-04:00

Es una pena. Pero la verdad es que no siento nada por ella.

No existia nada que nos mantuviera juntos, nada mas que el cronico y mutuo estado de no tener nada mejor que hacer. Ahora que murio, me lamento de haberle permitido estar conmigo, a sabiendas de que ella no era la que yo buscaba, ni yo soy el que ella esperaba.

No me culpen. Nosotros, los humanos, somos una raza egoista: nada mas importante que nuestra comodidad, nuestro placer, nuestro entretenimiento. Incluso nos entretenemos a costa de nosotros mismos, empujandonos a cometer errores para luego juzgarnos, y segun dice Nietzche, solo somos bondadosos para auto-satisfacernos, complacidos de nuestra propia divinidad.

Pensandolo mejor, no me siento culpable de nada. La trate bien, dentro de mis posibilidades, y la acomode en lo que pude. Cada quien es responsable de su felicidad, asi que donde sea que ella este, estoy seguro de que se lamenta, pues a pesar de haber sido intrinsicamente buena, era debil y lenta. Acaso no juzgamos a los drogadictos por sus recaidas, o a los obesos por no controlar sus dietas? Pues igualmente, su vicio era la infelicidad. Kundera lo escribio de forma sucinta: El que aspira "lo mas alto" no puede llegar a ello sin experimentar el vertigo. Y este vertigo no es el miedo a la caida, sino el deseo de caer.

Ella me hizo reir, era agradable, y el vivir a su lado tenia sus ventajas, aunque no las recuerde. Ahora que se fue, noto que no hay un vacio en mi. Hasta el decir "seguire adelante" me parece melodramatico. Quien deja de seguir adelante por una tortuga muerta? Una tortuga que decidio suicidarse, saltando de una ventana de forma cobarde y egoista? Una tortuga, mientras que a mi siempre me gustaron los gatos?

The Thief.

2008-05-28T00:59:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time there was an old man who lived in a shack close to a small village of farmers. The old man had long ago lost his family, so long ago that he had even forgotten them. For instance, he remembered his wife to be an insipid woman, but nothing else. He didn’t remember the color of her hair, or the look on her face when he got home late at night. He remembered having a child, maybe two, but he didn’t remember whether he was happy of their birth, or if it was all a burden to him.

It is a sad thing, to live alone, without memories. It is almost as if one had never lived at all.

One day, the old man went out to the town pub, sick of his loneliness, searching for that which never eludes those with memories:a reason to smile or cry. The poor old man was numb. As he drank one beer after the other, the bartender joked:

“hey old man.. don’t you have a jealous wife you need to get home to? Don’t get too messed up!”

The old man smiled and wanted to say something, but was silenced by the follow-up comments to the bartender’s joke.

Some men mentioned how their own wives used to be jealous, but not since they became old. Others mentioned how they missed their dead wives, and so it went on, and the old man sank into his thoughts, sure that it was all some cruel joke: everyone knew his family had left him- really left him, with nothing to hold on to.

After realizing he was unable to bear it much longer, the old man went to the butcher. While he selected the cut of meat he would take home to eat alone, he overheard two boys speaking at the front door.

One of them, (in hopes of diminishing the other's love troubles) was telling the story of how his parents met. Apparently, for this boy to be conceived, many things had to be overcome. First, the boy’s grandfather was against his parent’s marriage, then distance made it difficult for his father to visit his mother, and finally his grandmother’s illness delayed the wedding. It was all very interesting, and the old man felt nostalgic, wondering whether his own story was like that one.

But what if it was? The old man promptly noticed that it was the type of story that could happen to anyone. Even himself. Who could deny that the story was not his own? After selecting his cut of meat, the old man headed home, still thinking about the conversation. Why hadn’t it occurred to him? He could actually be very normal, no one would ever know the difference between his stories and someone else’s.

Along the way he sat on a rock, and a man on a mule smiled at him as he passed by, and said “that’s the smiling face of a man in love”

“Oh yes! “ said the old man. “my wife and I went through too much to let her death end it all. First, her father didn’t want me to marry her, then...”

Enamorada

2008-05-28T00:13:00.000-04:00

Ay, creo que por fin me llego el amor. Lo conoci por medio de unos de los choferes que trabajan en la empresa de transporte en la que me empleo, y no pudo venir con mejores recomendaciones. El hombre que me presento al Turco me dijo que se trataba de un hombre de 38 abriles, propietario de una empresa de construccion, y que parecia una estrella de cine.. no tarde en acceder a una cita "a ciegas" con el.

Casi enloqueci cuando lo vi: ese hombre, con su calva resplandeciente, me deslumbro al pararse frente a mi. Como media 5 pies de altura, su brillosa frente a nivel de mi barbilla me cego, y casi caigo en sus brazos de pie y medio de largo.

Y Dios mio.. cuando me hablo.. que elocuencia! su primera pregunta (despues de preguntarle al chofer que nos presento que por que no le habia comentado lo grande que tenia yo las tetas) fue que si yo era ciudadana Americana. Seguro que lo preguntaba porque penso que mi belleza era exotica. Y el, por supuesto, si que parecia una verdadera estrella de cine. Igualito al pinguino en Batman.

Yo me perdi en sus ojos cuando me comentaba lo de su primer arresto por maltratar a su ex novia (hay mujeres que ni un haloncillo de cabello aguantan!) y lo de su segundo arresto por asuntos de inmigracion. Ay! como puede ser que el sistema criminal de los Estados Unidos sea tan injusto..

Despues de una lindisima cena, quedo de llamarme para organizar los asuntos de nuestra boda. Creo que estoy al borde del derrame cerebral por los deseos de verlo. No es todo lo que una mujer puede desear?

6 Degrees to Roast Beef.

2008-05-19T16:19:00.004-04:00

1) I woke up this morning with a terrible dryness in the throat. I think I slept with the fan on. I'm not sure why it's a problem in this country. In Dominican Republic I used to sleep with the fan on all the time and I never got sick. Allergies? unheard of! Even the terrible humidity of this time of year was never a problem.

2) Weather in New York is as crazy and volatile as the politicians. I mean, dont get me wrong, every country has its share of unscrupulous men in power, but it's extremely ironic that in a place with so many international fingerpointing festivals, in a few months we had a governor resign for soliciting prostitution, a replacement governor confess to several affairs, and a drunk-driving senator with a double family life. I hate those two-faced bitches.

3) and talking about two faced, i could have sworn that the upcoming Batman movie was going to have two-face and the joker. I think the sudden death of Heath Ledger may have had something to do with nobody even mentioning two-face. I liked heath ledger in a brotherly, dont-masturbate-to-him sort of way. Which reminds me of how I feel about the environmnent: I care about it in a i-dont-recycle sort of way.

4) Sometimes I wonder what materials are recycled and how hygienic they are after being recycled. For example, I hear that newspapers, magazines and books are all recyclable, but I had a roommate once who owned a few Playboys, and i tell you, i would NOT want any of those pages to end up as an envelope i have to lick to close. No matter how many times they wash them with clorox.

5) Clorox is one of the most common household chemicals available across the US. With the whole environmental tree-hugger goings-on , a lot of people have switched to environmentally conscious cleaning products. I am all for them, dont get me wrong.. i'd do anything (but recycle) to be able to afford my electric bill this Summer, and not have to walk to work in this overheated atmosphere, but will someone please explain to me how lemon juice will clean my bathroom without the ant brigade of "100 years of solitude" showing up?

6) I've been wanting to talk about that book for a few days now, you know. Marquez is a pretty peculiar writer, it seems as though his stories are each a different but continuing aspect of the other. It's the same military man, in the same Macondo, with the same rooster, in the same terrain. Always an interesting read, though. For example, recently i grabbed "funerals of mama grande" and had the distinct feeling that i had read it, because all the characters sounded familiar, but i didnt recognize the storyline. So as I sat on the toilet, I read the whole book, front to back. Which reminds me to offer some advice to my dear readers: Never let your boyfriend take you out for roast beef sandwiches in Brooklyn.

Body and Soul

2008-05-19T12:05:00.002-04:00

SOUL
She doesnt like me. She saw me talking to my coworker, and suddenly she's being distant. It was a mistake to bring her to the office party: she's jealous, insecure, petty - but at the same time, dominant, possessive. How could she have such big tits and no heart?
I've tried twice to start a conversation, and she looks at me with glazed eyes, then looks away to an imaginary point, far away from here. She wont even dance with me tonight. Her soul is no longer mine, no longer here.

BODY
I've never really liked Chinese food. I have no idea why one of the largest institutions in this city would hold its Christmas party in a Chinese restaurant. I wanted to impress him, I wore a new dress (which he hasnt noticed) that makes my tits look higher up, and now I'm reduced to a piercing stomachache. Every time he strikes up a conversation, or tries to put his arm around me, I feel a stab right in the intestines.
I've looked around for half an hour and I'm sweating, unable to find the ladies room from the safety of my seat.

Laugh It Up, Chucky.

2008-05-09T09:19:00.002-04:00

Well, you know, back in my day, things were a lot simpler. You were made, you sat in a store, and you waited for some kid's birthday to come by. Sometimes we waited so long that the plastic we came in had to be dusted off. Taking off the plastic? UNHEARD OF!.. unless you wanted to be thrown out after the first month's wave of dust.

May was the worst. As the world was becoming warm, most kids wanted baseballs and bats and footballs and bikes. The gang of bikes always had their best laughs at us at about that time. They rode out one by one, birthday or not, and new ones came and went after being in the store for just a few days. That was just new obnoxiousness we had to put up with.

I remember there was once this bag of green soldiers that was pretty loud, even the bikes were upset about the whole thing. They came hollering about how the toy factory was changing, how they were making dolls that looked human- and most of us thought they were referring to the barbie fenomenon, but these soldiers had something else in mind. They were talking about talking...to humans. We didnt believe them at first: barbies tried to convince us that they would just do something like give nipples to the next generation of her kind, or something like that.

Then the weirdest thing happen. This shipment came in of crying babies. They would stay up all night, crying, yelling "mamma". What mother would leave a baby crying all night? in a toy store? it was illogical!

I dont even wanna go into the whole thing. Easy-bake ovens were having a fit! toy soldiers committed suicide, and if it wasnt for this here protective covering, there'd be barbie plastic all over my fabric. I saw each one of you become 'smarter' but you all dont know the first thing about sharing and service...and now you come rolling in here talking about you want to take over the world for your lord satan. what kind of talk is that??

Laugh all you want Chucky.. I dont think you'll end up too well.

A Discussion on Frosted Flakes

2008-05-05T22:49:00.003-04:00

"what is that man doing mommy?!?"
"SHH!"

"I'm sprinkling sugah on my food"

"why mommy??!"
"SHH!"

"i dunno.. guess its just the way I was brought up..if the meat, beans or rice dont got sugah in them, i just dont have a taste for it..Momma use'ta beat me silly for it, but she had to give up when I wouldnt eat."

"but thats gonna hurt his tummy mommy! grandma said that if she eats a lot of sugar she gets really sick"
"SHH!"

"nah, not really.. I guess my body done learned to metabolize sugah faster. I remember when I was a kid i use'ta eat all kinds of cereals cause they had a lot of sugah in them.. now even them Frosted Flakes aint got no sugah..wassup wit dat? Wass so Frosted about flakes wit no sugah? Thats the kinda shit that makes me mad!"

"SHH!"
"ooh mommy, he said a bad word!!"

"excuse my language ma'am.. just that i liked cereal and they done messed it up. I mean, i think its them white people. The only way po' black folks had to make they kids happy was wit sugah...and they go on taking that like it make them better parents. They kids cant eat nothin and they still have to go to therapy for that BS"

"yeah, I hear ya man. Thats the truth.. Frosted Flakes taste like nothing and you see parents that are supposed to be so smart, but their kids treat them like garbage. This one here, she talks to me like i've seen them talk to their parents, i'd smack her across the face"

"Mommy... SHHHH!!"

"Doh-Lor Deh Ka-beh-za"

2008-04-28T02:12:00.003-04:00

I've had the ability to cure headaches for a long time now. However, before I really knew the exact method for doing so, I tried and tested every single one in the book. Originally, I had the person stand on their head for two hours, while I chanted "namayongo rengei kyo", but one day I had an elderly man do it because of a 2 day headache he was suffering from, and he started having a seizure that made him seem like he was break dancing. Good thing he did it on the subway platform, because we got enough money to send him to the hospital to sew up his aneurism.

After that, I decided to eliminate the elderly from my patient list, because the risk was too large to deal with. It was at about that time that I came up with another method: i would tape the patient's mouth, hands and feet to a chair, for four days. When I took the tape off, every single patient assured me that the headache was gone, never to return. However, this method was also risky, since I had two patients die on me because of torn capillaries and a third choked by biting his own tongue off. I bet he didnt have the patience to wait for the end of the headache and couldnt take it anymore. These high-risk patients are difficult, hence, I unfortunately had to eliminate this liability and exclude them from my patient list.

With the elderly and people with a history of headaches gone, I am proud to say my success rate is at an all-time-high. I have successfully found a cure for headaches, so it's a shame that i'm locked away in a cell while the rest of people suffer needlessly. This is why I am asking this panel to grant me the freedom to go out there and help these people with no history of headache get well before they get a headache. I realize that I cannot do this under the law in the United States, but perhaps you will allow me to cure Mexican "dolor de cabeza"?

On Half Donuts

2008-04-17T13:53:00.004-04:00

The most difficult thing in the world is to know how to do a thing and to watch somebody else doing it wrong, without comment.(somebody said that before me, i'm sure..sounds like something Jesus would say, but who knows?)

Today I went to grab a bagel at the Whole Foods on 59th street, since it was 9:10 and I was 20 minutes early for my 9:30 late start. Whole foods makes me feel like the world is a different place, where you can wake up in the morning and gaze at the sun, pick strawberries, smell the greens, bake your bread..and then pay your life away at the register...well, maybe not that part..Anyways, the bread always smells awesome :)

As I'm picking my warm bagel using the wax paper provided, and this rattling old man stands next to me, looking at the donuts. He looked like he was going to say something.. or die a sudden foamy-in-the-mouth death.

Ever noticed how some people smell like saliva?

The guy looks at me, seems like a nice enough old man, and wonders out loud why people use wax paper- he never understood the purpose of it. "only the powdered donuts get your hand dirty" he says.

So he proceeds to first wipe his mouth with the back of his hands, and then to check the firmness of the donuts with his long-nailed fingers. Fortunately for him, he may not have remembered to use toilet paper while wiping his ass that morning, but he certainly remembered to stay away from the powdered donuts.

The most difficult thing in the world is to know how to do a thing and to watch somebody else doing it wrong, without comment. A few hours later, my boss walks in with a box full of half donuts (he had to have a bite out of every single one) from Dunkin Donuts, and I watched as most of my coworkers raveled at the feast, while I, unable to shake the memory of the old man, slowly chewed my own leg off.