Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

Aisha,

Mama Kelly,

Mica,

AyyA,

Louise,

Anonymous,

Laila K,

Just Jane,

Anonymous,

Thursday, June 22, 2006

My pets...

Cleo is ready for her close-up. She seems oblivious to the camera

My pets.. or am I theirs? At any rate the animals we have sharing our home just kill me with their facial expressions and body language…

Elvis formerly known as the cat that lived in the wall. Before we got her when she was around 1 yrs old all she had known was abuse at the hands of humans.Hence her name Elvis...she never let us get close enough to see if she was a boy or a girl so my mom named her Elvis because she kind of saunters when she walks. We only found out she was a girl last year! What you see in these photos is 5 years of trust buiding in the making. That's how long it took for her to let anyone get this close without running off. She even rubs against us now and lets us pet her.

Cleo seems to be either winking at me or thinking "OUCH! THAT GOTTA HURT!" because as I took the photo Kane had slipped and banged himself against the wall.

Kane knows darn well he's not allowed on my parents bed. Even though my father adores his dog he is allergic to Kanes fur but Kane loves stretching out on thier bed and laying his head on their pillows. My mom was cleaning her room and had stepped out of it to take a phone call when Kane snuck in and made himself at home. I love the expression on his face when he saw me peeking into the room with my camera. He didn't know what to do with himself. Awwww.No one can ever get mad at him with that face of his.

Labels: pets

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@ 9:54 PM
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Mica,

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Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Flaming Bag of Poo

A friend of mine has a lengthy track record when it comes to being broken hearted. I really thought it was going to go down different for her this time. I really thought well maybe this guy won’t take advantage of her vulnerability. She saw him yesterday "the day after" and the guy acted as if she'd taken advantage of him and left him pregnant and alone in a trailer park refusing to take a paternity test. She was really feeling hurt last night.“Should I get the bag of poop ready?” I asked her trying to cheer her up.

I’ve got this whole scenario planned out. I'd fill a couple of bags with my dog’s poop. Hey man he's a BIG dog. Then I’ll call Officer Mike and ask him to drive me and my friend to the offending guys house for a "drive by pooping" Mike will sniff the air “ What’s that smell” he’ll ask because our pit bull Kane does not exactly poo roses it's more like rotting hippo carcass. “ Never you mind officer Mike shut yo’ mouth and just keep driving!” I yell in my best thug rapper gangsta' voice.

As we approach the guy’s house we jump out of the car tucking and rolling holding the bags of poo inches from our faces. On the count of three we simultaneously set the bags aflame and toss the poopatov cocktails onto the bastards stoop running away. Our manical laughter fills the night air as we hight five each other while running away. We jump into the back seat of the running car burning rubber making donuts in his drive way. When he runs out in his itty bitty tighty whities to stomp out the poopatov cocktail I snap a photo as my friend gives him the finger and mocks the size of his package reducing him to tears.

Yeah boy take that!! Don’t eva evaaaa mess with my home girl boyyyyy! So yeah that’s one scenario the other two involves pelting him with water balloons and sneaking into the locker room and sprinkling itching powder all over his jock strap. I know, I know how immature but a girl can fantasize as she wipes away her friend's tears and lets her wipe her booger sprouting nose on the hem of her shirt can’t she?

Labels: friends

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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Smile when you say that...

I recently ended a year long relationship for reasons better left unsaid despite what he may think. Now the guy thinks I am a bitch. What moi a bitch?! I know I was shocked too! Not really. Why is it that whenever we stand up for ourselves and decide that something is not working and walk way we are called bitches? I mean if that’s what passes as the definition of the word bitch in the male kingdom then yeah I am a bitch. Smile when you say that! So for the next guy that crosses my path I offer this insight as to who I am. Maybe I should've called this post 10 steps to Mia...

1)I like who I am period before you start criticizing me, my relationship with my parents and family take a good look at yourself and make sure you’re not criticizing me out of jealousy. Instead of criticizing it take a good look at it. They say you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their parents. To me my parents are my God I worship them, I respect them and admire them. Their wisdom, examples, love, and care has made me the woman I am today.

2) My friends are my friends. I can point out when they've messed up to their face; I can tell them off when they irk me. You can not. I can do that because I’ve wiped their tears and fought their battles when they’ve needed me to. You have not logged in the years that I have with them. They may not be perfect but I love them. You at least should show them some respect.

3) I am friendly and love being around people but I also crave, enjoy and revel in solitude. It gives me a chance to renew my batteries. Don’t get offended or upset because there comes a day when I do not want to leave the comfort of my home. Understand my need for meditation. There are times when I will sit still for the longest of times and not utter a word simply because I have nothing to say. It has nothing to do with you. It may drive you nuts that I can withdraw into myself leaving you with just the shell of who I am as I escape into the welcomed solitude of my thoughts. It has nothing to do with you. Sometimes a chick just needs a little down time.

4) I believe in expressing how I feel not holding back and I encourage you to do the same at all times. Do not wait to tell me in August about something that I did in June that upset you the time to speak was then. Don’t hold onto your anger just let it go.

5) I will fight for the rights of others yet I hate to fight. Picking a fight with me is pointless. I refuse to resort to arguing to get my point across when a simple dialogue will do. If you insist on arguing with me prepared to get laughed at and watch me walk away. I can never keep a straight face when dealing with someone whose face is all contorted in rage.

6) Trust me as I trust you. If you are a part of my romantic life that means that I have placed my trust in you. Do not try to project your insecurities onto me. When I say someone is my friend take my word for it just as I take yours. There is no need to go running behind my back asking that person or interviewing my friends and family as to the nature of my relationship with my friend. I already told you and my word should suffice. I am not into playing games. When someone is in my heart I have no eyes for another. When I love you whether it be platonic or romantic I will love you with all I am. My love is unconditional and does not need it’s ego to be stroked in order to be kept alive. However please be aware that I have a big heart that has the capacity to love many people in many different ways. As such be prepared for the fact that no one ever really leaves my life. Some of my dearest friends are former boyfriends. Insecurity is not necessary; they are ex’s for a reason so please don’t be intimidated by my friendships with them. If I were still interested in them you wouldn’t be around.

7) Don’t try using jealousy as a way to keep me by your side. When I don’t want to be kept nothing will tie me to you. Jealous? I am not the type. Don’t try to fan something in me by swooning over some other woman and describing how she fawned over you in an attempt to arouse jealousy in me. It will not work. Not because I don’t care about you but instead because I refuse to hold onto someone who needs to be constantly reassured of their place in my heart. If my word is not enough then by all means run to the person who fawns over you. As a matter of fact I’ll hold the door open for you as you leave. This goes back to # 6 on my list. If there is no trust then why be with someone?

8) Me loving you does not make you the center of my life. Before I met you I had a life an enjoyable and vibrant one. I am not one of those females with heaving bosoms breathlessly awaiting the arrival of their man. I do not need nor want to see you every day; I do not need to talk to you 100 times a day. You and I were not born joined at the hip. My twin died along time ago. Please by all means continue to live the life you had before you met me. Please don’t expect me to stop living mine.

9) Do not ever in your wildest dreams attempt to resort to physical violence to keep me in place. Number one I fight back. Number two you do not know my uncles. They keep baseball bats and plastic garbage bags in the trunk of their cars for moments like that.

10 ) Please be aware that no matter what time of the night, no matter where I am or with whom I am if a friend in need calls me I will fly to their side. Never ever try to make me choose between you and my friends. Also know that if you ever need me day or night I will move mountains to be by your side as well.

That covers the basics as to who I am in a nut shell. Hopefully the next guy I come in contact with won't be intimidated by the total package and attempt to bend and twist me into his idea of what a woman should be. If he does he will be met with resistance and shown the door. I am simply me simply Mia accept me warts and all as I accept you and we should get along fine.

Labels: about me, ex bf's

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@ 11:42 AM
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Friday, June 16, 2006

The Stars Are Blind

If God is a DJ may he forgive me for what I’m about to type… I actually like Paris Hilton’s “Stars Are Blind” song (hangs head in shame). Maybe it’s because I’ve always been into ska and reggae but the beat to the song is bouncy and it appeals to me. It has a nice summer feel to it. I can picture myself walking through the village on a hot summer night with this tune blasting on my Jelly Bean while me and my home girls check the guys out walking as if we owned the city. I can even picture me swaying a bit to this tune late at night watching the waves off of City Island as a breeze skips through my curls carrying the scent of the ocean mingled with the fried calamri from Johhny’s. These scenarios and oh so much more could be possible I only I could get over the fact that it’s a Paris Hilton song. This song could be my summer jam if only I could get over the fact that it’s friggin’ Paris Hilton ! Paris mother flubbing Hilton, a woman who epitomizes all that I despise. (Sigh)

It seems I’m not alone on this love/hate thing with this song. Despite getting mad airplay here in NYC very few people are brave enough to admit they are feeling the song yet it’s like the 3rd most requested song and it only being released a few days ago. Some have compared her singing style to Gwen Stefani and I can see why. It’s because of the ska feel to the song. She doesn’t sound exactly like Stefani more like she was invoking the spirit of Stefani in during the “Tragic Kingdom” and “Underneath It All” era . Man I LOVED the Tragic Kingdom album. I had it on cassette (remember those?) and wore it out two copies from running it so much. Anyway right now I am so feeling like a hypocrite I actually downloaded the song and am listening to it as I type this. I am so disappointed in myself. (Double sigh) After this song is over I’ll purge myself by listening to “Pressure” by David Bowie and Queen.

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@ 1:18 AM
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Thursday, June 15, 2006

Fag hagging for fun not profit

The fire and brimstone brigade was in full force on Southern Blvd preaching on the ills of sin trying to save as many souls from purgatory as possible. My friend and I were waiting on a cab so we stood there listening. This is the religion my friend had grown up with. Until recently he had been attended church daily. Then someone “outed” him they revealed that my friend was gay and from there the whispers and stares grew like wild fire. They even tried an intervention in an attempt to cure him of his "illness". Day in day out his cell phone went off with members of the congregation calling him and text messaging him to talk about his straying from the path the lord had set for him. Eventually it became too much for him and he left the church.

Spotting a homosexual couple holding hands the man on the microphone started preaching about the evils of homosexuality. I pull my friends arm, “ Vente , come on let’s go this is boring.” “Na chill I want to hear this.” I guess listening to the drivel is his way of doing penance. I hug his arm and tippy toe whispering in his ear, "You’re not vile, you're not an abomination. You’re his child, created in his image.God doesn’t hate you.” He looked at me and said, “You really think so?”. He didn’t say anything for a minute then turned to me and said, “You know what I need? I need a fag hag do you want to be my fag hag?”

Mia: Is there any money to be made in fag hagging?
You know I’ve got bills to pay man.

Friend: No, not really but there’s a lot of fringe benefits.

hmmm something there’s something to think about

Mia: Like?

Friend: Clubbing, makeovers, great fashion tips.

Mia: Let me think about this fag hagging for fun...not for profit

Friend: Yeah

Mia: Can you teach me how to do use my khol eyeliner?

Friend: Yup

Mia: Deal, you've got yourself a fag hag!

Friend: Mia?

Mia: Yes?

Friend: I love you

Mia: Yeah yeah keep it moving sister.

Labels: friends, gay friends

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@ 1:08 AM
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DannieS72,

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Two stories for the price of one

Every day is an adventure, and every day brings a new story to tell. Today I have 2 of them because the happened back to back in the same place.

My friend and I were sitting in the Park on 59th street enjoying the day and studying for today’s exam al fresco. It was a beautiful day. We were sitting on a bench poring over our notes when I happened to look up. There was this woman sitting right across from me wearing a really nice dress. The only thing was that I am assuming she either must have forgotten she was wearing a dress or she didn’t know how to sit properly when wearing one. Her legs were wide open exposing all her glory to the world and since I was directly across from her “screen” was in my line of view. At first I didn’t say anything I figure pretty soon she’ll start to feel either the suns rays or a draft and close her legs. I went back to my studying. After about 10 minutes I took a water break and looked up. The chick was still flashing me. I sighed and said softly so that only she could hear me, “For the love of God lady close your legs!” She fixed herself and put her goodies away. I’m saying if I had my stuff on display I’d want to know especially with all the pervs walking around with camera phones. Poor chick’s photo could wind up on some porn site. Perhaps I should’ve given her the link to my Public service message for the fashion clueless.

A little while later there was some drama going on with a middle aged couple. They seemed to be having a lover’s quarrel and seemed high on drugs and that is never a good combination. Angela kept staring at them inching closer to them. That’s when the ghetto nena in me came out “Angela mind your own business, that’s why you white people are forever getting killed. Get ova here mind yo’ bidness! ” The last thing you want to do in Central Park is get into the middle of a drug fueled fight between two lovers, sure call the cops but do not under any circumstances attempt to get physically in between them. Oh hell no. If you do that the next thing you know there’s a picture of you posted on the front page of the NY Post with the headline above it “Good Samaritan bitch slapped to death intervening in a lover’s quarrel. Then in tiny letters underneath the photo “ As the nosy biache’s body was wheeled away the druggie couple proclaimed their undying love for each other… story continued on page 2”

The man was squeezing the woman’s face accusing her of cheating on him. Angela was mesmerized she got closer. Oh double hellz no this is not television if that big man smacks you it will hurt for real! You have no brothers I don’t think you’ve been trained in the art of taking a punch! Mind your business just dial 911 and get the po-po out here.

The man walked away from the woman throwing his shirt at her. She then yelled something at him. Why for the love of gawd would you pop crap when he is leaving woman? Do you want to get snuffed out? Unless you know self-defense stfu and let him have the last word !

He stopped, doubled back and punched the puffnstuff out of her. He snatched the cell phone from her hand and threw her bag on the floor. He then picked up his shirt threw it over his shoulder and as calm as could be walked out of the park. The woman staggered and when she took her hand off her face she was bleeding. The man had cut her face with a double edged razor blade in the hood they are called “Gems” favored by the gang bangers of the 50’s and 60’s. A bunch of ladies ran towards the bleeding woman who seemed in shock to help her. We had already called 911 and the police were on their way. While we waited we tried to remember details about the man so we could describe him to the cops.

Angela: He was Latino right Mia?

Mia: No he was black Angela

Angela: You sure Mia? He looked Latino to me!

WTF?! You’ve lived here all your life and you can’t tell us apart?!

Mia: (sigh) Angela I know my people when I see them. This guy was a Moreno, he was black.

Angela: You sure?

Now I know why Latino men are always being stopped as possible crime suspects by the cops. Heffa’s like this one assume everyone with a little color to them is a Latino!

Mia: Yes Angela he was a Moreno. You’re going to have the cops looking for the wrong guy just because you white people cannot tell us apart sheesh man!

we both start cracking up

Mia: Don’t be trying to pin on an innocent Latino!

The police arrived and interviewed the girl who just as my powers of observation had let me to believe was high as a kite on a windy day. Yes they’d been doing the drugs. After they were done with her they spoke to us and took our information. Angela told them that she thought he was Latino I of course disagreed. The woman told them that he was a Puerto Rican I looked at her and straight off the bat I knew she was lying. I theorized that this was not the first time her man had hit her and that she was afraid of him. Of course she is not going to want him busted imagine what he would to her once he got out! Of course the cops doing their job stopped a Puerto Rican who fit her general description…only it turned out to be a Mexican guy walking his dog. That’s right people all us Latinos look alike to the police department.
Finally the chick breaks down the guy who slashed her was actually black, he was a Moreno.
In your face Angela Bam! Think I don’t know my people when I see them. Booyaaaa! I gotta find a way to teach Angela how to tell us apart maybe a chart or something.

Labels: a day in the life, new york

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Click Aqui To See Film Trailer

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Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Que Viva Puerto Rico!

“People were not born to be slaves, even if those slaves were dressed in gold and ate at the tables of their masters. There was a divine principle underlying the situation: human beings had been created free and should, therefore, move in the direction of freedom. The United States had tried to make young Puerto Ricans forget their language and culture -- to make them speak English and think of themselves as North Americans. They wanted to buy Puerto Ricans with banal things. The United States gave Puerto Rico nothing, exploiting the territory 24 hours a day, while it was claimed that Puerto Rico could not survive without the United States. Puerto Rican heads might be bowed, but they were a people who would rise from their knees.”

This statement was made by Lolita Lebron a Boricua revolutionary or terrorist depending on your point of view. Lebron was affected as were many Boricuas by the racism and injustices they faced in this country and in their homeland at the hands of The Americans after they invaded our island, but I’m not getting into politics today. This post is about celebration; the celebration of mi gente, my people.

The point I am trying to make is this; Lolita Lebron was right despite outside influences we as Boricuas still hold fast onto our culture, no matter how long our families have been in this country we still view ourselves as Boricua first and foremost. While we may love this country and the opportunities it has given us opportunities that came with a price, opportunities that we as Boriquas have had to fight for we still love it none the less. We love this country as if it were a favorite uncle, however Borinquen is our mother and the love for one’s mother is above all others.

A BF of mine once got offended when he heard my New York born and raised mother refer to herself as a Puerto Rican. He attempted to correct her calling her a Puerto Rican-American and in turn got schooled by her. She told him,” I am not an American; I am Boriqua besides carbon Puerto Rico is part of the USA. Ask any person of Puerto Rican descent what they are and they will tell you they are Puerto Rican no matter how many generations have been born in this country.” You know the woman is right. There is something about that island that calls out to us. It crosses oceans, and transcends borders. Maybe it is the spirits of our ancestors, maybe it is entrenched in our blood but it’s the one place we all long to be whether born there or not. It is our home.

On Sunday NYC threw a party for in honor of Puerto Ricans and 3 million people of all races came to celebrate with us ‘cause everyone knows ain’t no party like a New York party thrown by Boricuas. Our parade is the biggest in the USA even bigger than Macy’s Thanksgiving Jam. It was a tremendous source of pride to see kids like my siblings embrace their history and wear their pride on their sleeves. Once upon not too long ago when my parents and grandparents were growing up in this city being a Boricua was something you were made to feel ashamed of. As my mami is fond of saying, “once upon a time they dissed us and now they wanna kiss us.” Ya damn skippy they do and why shouldn’t they? We Boricuas have a lot to be proud of.

Today I capped off the love fest by watching a documentary called ¡Soy Boricua Pa Que Lo Sepas! My mom insisted we all watch the documentary together and for my siblings and I it was a chance to have the history my mother has taught us since conception added onto. A chance to see the history of my people documented on film, the real history that is not taught to us in school. For my mother it was a chance to see the familiar faces of her childhood. For my father it was a chance to see the difference his forefathers made in this country. Mom gasped and cried when she caught a glimpse of her mother in the documentary fist raised defiantly in the air shouting, “¡ Boricua defiende lo tuyo!” She tried to see if she could spot herself in marching in a demonstration her mother had taken her to when she was only 7 yrs old. She didn’t see herself but she did see her mother’s cousin being arrested. She saw a several of her mother’s friends. Two stood out in particular because they had taught her how to ride a bike one beautiful summer day. While she knew them as tio pedro and tio Miguel the rest of the world would come to know them as Boricua literary legends Pedro Pietri and Miguel Piñero.

There were so many important aspects of Boricua history discussed in this documentary I urge you all to see it you’ll never look at a Puerto Rican the same way again. Now I fully understand what Lolita Lebron meant. Anyone that knows me knows I wear my love for my people, my culture like a badge of honor. But tonight I fell in love with my people all over again. As one of the former Young Lords said in the film, “ Other Latinos approach me every where I go and they thank me they tell me everything they have in this country they owe to the Puerto Ricans because we were here first we fought the fight for out rights, we paved the way for other Latinos.” So as I sit and write this I tip my hat to all my Boricuas past, present, and future ¡ Que viva Puerto Rico! Yo soy Boricua.

Labels: Puerto Rico

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@ 2:21 AM
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Monday, June 12, 2006

Papillona Sky �

I’ve been tagged by Papillona Sky to create my own post a no secret.
This is what I came up with.

click here to view larger image

Rules:
1. Post it on your blog. If not email it to papillona@gmail.com.
2. Do not tag anyone. The tag starts ONLY from Papillona’s Blog

Link:Papillona Sky �

Labels: tag, tags

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@ 2:22 AM
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Sunday, June 11, 2006

Nadine

My mother's face was hidden by the camera and Nadine started leaning over in an attempt to see my mom's face.

Have you ever loved someone so much your heart cannot remember how it was before this person came into your life? If you have ever experienced this then you know how I feel about my cousin Nadine. Words can never adequately express the love I feel for this child or the joy she has brought our family. I can be in the midst of the crappiest day and just the thought of her makes me smile. She seems to have this effect on everyone that meets her, they fall under her spell instantly.

She is a playful and shy baby if she doesn’t know you she hides her face when first meeting you. If she recognizes you she does her monster impression opening her mouth and eyes real wide and going “grrrr grrrr”, and will clap her hands when she is done. However if you fall into her favorite people category she will stick her tongue out at you or squinch up her nose at you.

Nadine is my uncle Chino’s only child and next saturday she will be one years old. Several hours after Nadine was born my mother got a call from my uncle and his wife; something was wrong with the baby. The doctors had told them that Nadine was born with Downs Syndrome. You would've thought they'd be devastated but they weren't. They were grateful to have her. My mom having worked with special kids all her life explained to us all what laid ahead for Nadine and how we could help her learn and progress through every day activities. She is my mother's first biological niece and the star of the family. The other day my mom let out a big whoop because Nadine's team of therapists informed us that Nadine is a lefty like my mom. "You know that means she will be artistic!" said my mother an artist and she immeadiately set about planning some art lessons for Nadine whom she refers to as The Bean.

The day that Nadine and my mom first laid eyes on each other was amazing. The family was excited knowing that the gift of a song would be made on that day and everyone was curious as to what Nadine's song would be. The gift of a song is a tradition started by my mom when she was 13 and big sister to a brand new baby boy, Nadine's father as a matter of fact. His song is "Cu cu ru cu cu Paloma" which to this day he sings Mariachi style. My mom always dedicates a song to the newborns of the family and sings it to them when they first meet. The song is their song for the rest of their life; my mom will sing it to them as a lullaby whenever she babysits them and beyond. Not one of my cousins has forgotten their song…even as adults. I don’t know how much thought goes into my mom picking the song but for some reason it always tends to fit our personalities.

On the day the met Nadine and mom both stared at each other. Nadine seemed to be studying my mothers face intently. It was funny though because even with Nadine’s Down Syndrome you can still see traces of my mother in her face. My mom sat with Nadine massaging her for about 30 minutes, talking to her softly and Nadine seemed to be talking back. When my mother finally gave her back to her mother Nadine started to cry. My mom started singing The Rainbow Connection by Kermit The Frog…and Nadine was silenced. Somehow the song fit…it was perfect, it was Nadine’s song. By the time my mom had finished the song we were all in tears.

Nadine had been sick for the past several weeks but today she was well enough to come over for a visit. The minute she saw my mother the child lost her freaking marbles. Her facial expressions alternated between monster impression and squinched nosed...she kept bouncng up and down whenever my mom came near her. Actually come to think of it my mom was acting the same way! When mom started singing her song Nadine was mesmerized and started “singing” along when my mom finished the song Nadine clapped her hands and said, "yaaahhh” which we took to mean yay! I sat back watching her thinking how lucky we were to have this baby sent to us…I’m looking forward to a lifetime of knowing her , loving her and most of all being loved by her.

(After my mom finished singing to her)

Labels: babies

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Friday, June 09, 2006

Sueño and Shopgirl

I’m a Netflix slut. I am totally addicted to this service. The idea that you create a list of DVD’s and they get delivered to your house…oh man it is Nirvana for a movie fanatic like me. I use the service to check out DVD’s before buying them this way I don’t waste $$ buying a flick that turns out to be crappy. I just checked out a couple of flicks that are purchase worthy in my book… I loved them.

The first movie Sueño I’d never heard of. They should’ve had some type of publicity campaign going on for this flick because it was a really sweet movie. Honestly if it had not been for a trailer I saw on another rented DVD I never would’ve known it existed.

Synopsis courtesy of Rotten Tomatoes.com:John Leguizamo stars in this Latin Musical as Antonio, a very talented young musician from Mexico, pursuing his dream of becoming a singer in Los Angeles. Consistently thwarted by constant rejection, he's about to give up when his manager, El Zorro, an eclectic and a colorful radio personality, convinces him to enter a local radio sponsored Latino singing competition. He finally will have his chance to make his music heard...if he can just find a band. At the same time, he finds himself involved in a romantic triangle with two very different women, a neighbor in her 40s (Peña) and a young veterinary student (Talancon). The vibrant on-screen musical performances incorporate the eclectic vibes of Rock En Español, Latin Electronica, Punk and Rap with the smooth sounds of old school Bolero. The film has no traditional score, but rather utilizes the original works of over 20 different bands and musicians. The soundtrack to this movie was off the hook! It has wall to wall kick butt music featuring Latino rockers Kinky, Papa Roach, Sofa, ZOE, Volovan, Cartel de Santa, Queztal, T-Funkattaque Y Sones Del Mexside, Xavier Cugat, Los Lobos' Steve Berlin, & others. I give both the movie and the banging soundtrack a big wepaaaa (it’s a Rican thing) I’m going to pick them up.

Shopgirl
adapting his popular novella to the big screen, Steve Martin chooses director Anand Tucker (HILARY AND JACKIE), whose artful eye (along with the film’s stunning costumes, dramatic score, and brilliant set design) brings the book's detailed characters beautifully to life. Recalling her breakout role of analytical Angela Chase on MY SO-CALLED LIFE, a luminously brunette Claire Danes plays Mirabelle Buttersfield, a serious young woman (and aspiring artist) from Vermont who has moved to Los Angeles with hopes that, out on the West Coast, her life will finally begin. But Mirabelle's job at the rarely visited glove department of Saks Fifth Avenue and her naturally reserved demeanor make it hard for her to find genuine connections in a place as isolating as L.A. It's with a mixture of her need for human interaction and her lowered expectations that Mirabelle reluctantly accepts the awkward advances of Jeremy (Jason Schwartzman), a clueless but kind slob she meets at a Laundromat. The opposite of romantic, Jeremy's initial attempts at wooing hardly cure Mirabelle of her loneliness, so when wealthy older man Ray Porter (Martin) asks Mirabelle out with grace and style, she agrees. What follows is a touching look at the disappointment, confusion, and heartbreak that accompanies unreciprocated love.

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Thursday, June 08, 2006

The Pain of The Past

I thought I was over it that I was ready to forget that day in my life. I thought I was finally at peace and ready to open the door without the fear of being hurt. I was wrong….

There are events in our lives that traumatize us for life; leaving scars so deep they can never be erased, never be forgotten. It all came rushing back to me yesterday as I stood in front of the refrigerator.

Some time ago I had a Perdue Oven Stuffer Roaster Chicken slide out of the freezer do a triple loop in the air and land on my foot. I am not ashamed to say the pain brought tears to my eyes. I’ve never been the same again. I was in pain and limping for days. For weeks the sight of Chicken Mc Nuggets was enough to send me into tears. For those unfamiliar with the Perdue Oven Stuffer it’s an abomination of a chicken. I mean really wtf is a 8 lb chicken? Isn’t that more like a puny turkey? No, no I take it back a Perdue Oven Stuffer is more like an obese chicken. A chicken on steroids, it is The Chickenator.

Yesterday I had a flash back to the day of The Chickenator. I know damn well all we have in the little freezer is ice cubes and microwaveable stuff. I know damn well that the meat is kept in the deep freezer but still in the back of my mind there is always that fear. The fear that The Chickenator is out there lurking in the frozen tundra of my freezer. I reached in past Mrs. T’s Pierogies intending to grab a few of the dolphin and penguin shaped ice cubes that are kept in the Tupperware bowl and then it happened… a box of Stouffer’s Frozen Ravioli seemed to shift. It looked like it was going to slide out of the freezer! I jumped back and screamed like a bitch!

The horror of it all, I can only pray to the heavens that one day I will overcome my trauma, that my scar will be healed. That I will over come the pain of the past.

Labels: wtf moments

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Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Blondie Van Buffy

I was running an errand for a friend today before class trying to order some stuff he was unable to locate around his way. The manager was in a meeting and I was instructed to take a seat until he was done. The young woman behind the desk kept staring at me like I had a second head. I guess I didn’t fit the typical chi chi clientele that usually frequented this place. Her salon fresh styled hair was dyed a honey blonde with some platinum highlights. She had one of those tanning bed tans and her make up looked as if it had taken at least an hour to spray paint on. Her bling would’ve put a rapper to shame. Me? Well the tan was natural…. no make up, simple silver hoop earrings…my t-shirt sleeves were short enough to make the tattoos on both of my arms completely visible. My curls were slicked back into a pony tail… trust me you don’t inflict curls like mine on the unsuspecting public on a humid day especially when the sky looks pregnant with rain. No uh… you just can’t do it. Blondie Van Buffy as I nicknamed her kept looking at me as I was a piece of gum or worse stuck to the bottom of her Manolo Blahnik’s.

I stared back at her giving her my patented Nuyorican chick from the Bronx fake ass smile complete with the “screw you heffa” thought bubble over my head. She walked over to me and said, “Umm Miss what is it exactly that you’re looking for?” I showed her what I was looking for and with the only condescending attitude said “Well you know that you will have to pay for those don’t you?” “Yes m’am I do.” If you ever want to piss anybody slightly over 30 off call them m’am or sir…they take it as a sign of being old. She sighed and said, “Do you have the money for this? It can be expensive.” That’s when the smart ass in me took over, never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line and never ever get smart with a Boricua,you’re going to lose every time. “Are you serious, expensive? How expensive? Do you think I can pay off the debt by doing chores around here? Is it very very expensive Miss? Because I have a gallon jug of pennies I could break open.” The gentleman sitting next to me let out a laugh.

She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at me and as she walked off in a huff I heard her mutter under her breath, “fuckin’ spic” At first I wasn’t sure that I had heard right but the look on the mans face told me all I needed to know… I walked up to her desk and said, “ummm excuse me m’am don’t play yourself with me. I know as many derogatory names for you as you know for me. Do we really want to go there? Let’s not because that’s an ugly thing and God don’t like fugly.”
It had become painfully obvious to me that Blondie Van Buffy and I were never going to be friends… we would never share a cup of coffee… never go shopping together…never experience the joys of a mosh pit side by bouncing side. Blondie Van Buffy would never hold my hand as I got my latest tattoo… Dearest God, Merciful Allah, Sweet Baby Jesus in heaven why must fate be so cruel? I had so many plans for Blondie Van Buffy and myself. I was devastated…I was crushed…well not really.

I made my way back to my seat. At that moment someone of importance walked in. I assume he was important because of the way she rushed towards him. She was tottering on heels way too high and then karma bitched slapped her. Blondie Van Buffy slipped! Her ass flew up in the air and BOOM she landed flat on her back! I stifled my laughter and rushed towards her, “lady are you ok?” She nodded her head, Blondie Van Buffy’s face was beet red, and her dress was askew revealing her underwear. One shoe was still on her foot and the other had landed under one of the chairs.

I had to leave because even though I was trying to be the better person I'm not a saint... I felt the laughter just wanting to escape...gotta love that Karma.

Labels: racism

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Tuesday, June 06, 2006

In celebration of lovely lady lumps

Someone once told me that walking into my house is like walking into a sitcom. I’m starting to think they were right. This morning at 8:00 am my baby sister 14 yr old Caitlin was getting ready for school…

Caity: Mommy have my boobs grown?

My mother walks over to Caity and stares at her little mosquito bites.

Mom: I dunno kiddo they look the same to me but then again I don’t stare at your boobies very often. They got laws against that stuff you know.

Caity: Ma for real I think they grew. This shirt used to fit me looser in the front.

Mom: Maybe it shrank?

Caity: It fits the same everywhere else.

Mom: Mmmm … come here let me see.

She stares at the mini diva’s chest as she sips her morning coffee.

Mom: You know what Caity-Bird I think you are right. Your lovely lady lumps look like they’ve grown a bit. Have you been spraying miracle grow on your chest?

With that my sister point to her chest and begins to sing the Black Eyed Peas “My Hump” and starts belly dancing, mom joined in singing and dancing as well….I just stood there staring at them laughing. It was too early for this…

Mom: ¡Mia ven aca nena! Come dance with us we’re celebrating Caity-Bird’s lovely lady lumps!

Of course I can’t resist a celebration and I jump in and start dancing as well. My little bro Steven who is 16 ½ walks by ….

Stevie: What the heck?

Caity: We’re celebrating my lumps!

Stevie: What?

Mom: Caity’s boobies grew so we’re celebrating. Come on and dance!

Stevie: Woman that ain’t nothing to celebrate. It just makes my job harder.

Mom: C’mon baby dance for mommy…

Just then we all start singing in unison, “What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps.”

My brother joins in and starts doing the booty hop making all of us crack up. My mom’s younger brother walked into the living room to see what the commotion was all about with my little cousin Pico in tow…

Uncle: WTF are you doing?

Mom: Celebrating Caity’s boobs growing

My uncle started laughing…

Uncle: Should we really be celebrating that? I miss the days when she was in diapers.

Stevie: See that’s what I’m saying tio!

Mia: Hey man we all gotta grow up sometime!

Uncle: Be quiet I still haven’t forgiven you for growing up.

Mom: Shhh dance with us.

Uncle: No…

Mom: Ayyyy party pooper come on Pico dance with titi.

My cousin ran into the living room and started doing the booty hop with my brother sending his father into a fit of laughter. After watching us for a few seconds my uncle joined us. He did a quickie standing still version of the cabbage patch. The dancing went on for less than a minute everyone had to dash off to school but not before my uncle proclaimed, "God the women in this family are crazy."

Labels: caity

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Monday, June 05, 2006

Fighting The Urge To Kick The Crypt Keeper's Bony Shins

In the last couple of years my friend has put on a few pounds, big friggin’ deal. Her mother a member of the Anti-Fat Gestapo and whom I refer to as the crypt keeper acts as if by gaining weight her daughter has committed a heinous crime against all of humanity. My friend had just modeled the dress she’s wearing to her graduation ceremony for us. I thought the she looked fantastic in the dress and told her so. The crypt keeper scrunched up her face. We braced ourselves for her mother’s critique. “You’re getting fat. You need to go on a diet.” The crypt keeper has had this girl on a diet since she was 8 years old Lately it’s been getting harder to control my urge to kick the crypt keeper on her bony shins.

“Oh please she looks fine, leave her alone!” After she thoroughly tore her daughter apart she turned to me, “Try the dress on Mia” I saw what she’s trying to do, she was trying to shame her daughter using me as a tool. “No way in hell I’m not trying on the dress. So get that idea out of your head.” It is extremely painful to witness my friend being torn down by her mother; I can only imagine how painful it is for her to live through it every day. I know it must be taking a toll on her self-esteem I feel that my friends’ promiscuous behavior with men is a direct result of the crypt keeper tearing her down. Yeah man it’s getting harder to control the urge to kick the crypt keeper’s bony shins.

I'm starting to think the crypt keeper has an eating disorder. She tries to control everything her daughter eats and every time her daughter eats in front of her she criticizes her for eating. Part of her food control now involves her no longer stocking the pantry or cooking. It is her opinion that a bowl of cereal or a tuna sandwich should satisfy her daughter’s appetite for dinner….every day. All that this controlling has managed to do is make my friend into a “sneak eater” Whenever we eat out she will pig out as if she was a competitive eater in training. She constantly has to lie to her mother about what she has eaten during the day. How sad is that?

Several days ago we brought a couple of Snicker Bars from a kid as part of a fund raiser. I put the candy bar that I had purchased away for my mom; I wasn’t in the mood for it. When the crypt keeper saw her daughter eating the candy bar she flipped out and “You don’t need to be eating that you’re fat enough!” and attempted to snatch it away. Seeing my candy bar on top of my messenger bag she said,” you either Mia!” To which I replied.” Back off crypt keeper I’m not your daughter I will say something.” The next morning I called my mom to check in with her and as told her,” See ma I love you so much I was thinking about you yesterday and got you a snickers. Cause ya know ma nothing says love like a Snicker’s Bar.” I looked towards my purse and the candy bar was gone. The crypt keeper had actually taken it while I slept and had thrown it down the garbage disposal so I wouldn’t eat it!

Now the crypt keeper is bugging my friend to wear a girdle with the dress and my friend is fighting her all the way. First of all I believe the girdle which was probably invented by a man with too much time on his hands is an instrument of the devil but that’s for another post. The crypt keeper tried to enlist my help in getting her daughter to wear the girdle,” What are you crazy? You’re daughter is graduating. This is a huge accomplishment! She is the first in your family to get this far and all you can focus on is a tummy bulge?! If the girdle is so important to you why don’t you freaking wear it? She doesn’t need a girdle the dress looks fine. Now get off her back already.”

I’ve noticed my friend has started rebelling in her own way. She had been losing weight up until a few weeks ago. She just doesn’t care anymore she’s stopped dieting. She’s stopped working out and has started packing on the pounds. I guess that’s her way of giving her mom a big screw yoo hoo lady! Yeah so as I was saying every time I see the crypt keeper I have to fight the urge to kick her in her bony shins.

Labels: friends

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Sunday, June 04, 2006

Kuwaiti Chopper Dude's Cell Phone Tag

I was tagged by The Don for this. Actually it’s a rather original tag… he wants to see what’s on my celly.Seems simple right? Actually it wasn’t every time I tried to get a shot of the phone either some would call me or text msg me.

But I finally managed to get a shot so here ya go Don booya!

Up Date: Usually when I do a tag I will say, "If ya wanna join in the tag please feel free to do so let me know if you’ve done it." but The Don feels I should be more specific so here we go... hey fantastic four: Jane, Rosie, Mica, Emory chop chop lets get to it you've been tagged! Oh yeah Blogging Chicks you ladies are tagged as well...

These are the rules of the tag:
a clear picture of the inner surface of your mobile (cell) phone to show the display picture you have on your phone.
- it should show the name brand of the mobile (cell) phone.

Labels: tag, tags

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Saturday, June 03, 2006

A group blind date

Reina had a blind date last night and of course she dragged me along for moral support. Trust me I tried to get out of it, it was raining it was hot it was muggy it was humid there was thunder there was lightning …I didn’t want to get dressed up….there was a documentary on cable I wanted to see… she was not having it. Hell hath no more determined minion as Reina when she’s trying to land a man. This is the way it works with her blind dates if he’s fugly I am there as a buffer…if he’s cute I will never lay eyes on the guy again because from there on she will hang out with him solo.

Her date Brandon was mucho cute, he seemed like a nice guy and more importantly had been blessed with impeccable taste in humor, but more on that later. Not wanting to feel like the 3rd wheel or make her date feel uncomfortable I invited a date of my own, Mike. Then as we were exploring Manhattan Magz called and we all agreed to hook up with Magz and her crew over at Faces and Names on 54th street. It was official Reina’s blind date had now turned into a group outing but Brandon was enjoying himself so it was all good. He became my buddy that night he rarely left my side. I guess I made him feel comfortable because I was treating him as if I’d known him all my life teasing him and involving him in our conversations. I hate meeting a group of people that know each other and being the odd man out, it is so awkward. They’ll chat amongst themselves maybe even switch back and forth between their native language and English expecting you to keep up or jump in without a proper invitation.

My date Mike was a cop and with the exception of Brandon the whole group were students at John Jay so for the rest of the night we had a lot of criminal justice type humor going on. Yuk yuk yuk we are just so clever. Now here’s where Brandon’s impeccable taste comes in… he laughed at all of my jokes even the stuff I hadn't meant to be funny. I was batting a 1000 with this guy. It was like having my own personal cheer leader. I loved him!

As we made our way around the city I kept smelling booze but none of us were drinking so where was the smell of booze coming from? I looked around nope no winos around us. Finally I asked Officer Mike, "Yo do you smell liquor?” “No” When we got to Faces and Names we took a table and Brandon sat next to me with Mike on the other side of me and that’s when I was finally able to track the source of the distillery smell, it was coming from it was Brandon! Hark the herald my personal cheer leader was boozed up! I leaned towards Mike and whispered “Hey Officer Mike in your professional opinion is that kid drunk or is it just me?” Mike took a close look at Brandon then a whiff, “Yeah he’s drunk.” It turned out that Brandon was the shy type and prior to meeting up with us he’d sucked on a bottle of liquid courage. Being an extremely shy person myself I could sympathize with him. I mean not only was he meeting Reina for the first time but on top of that Reina informs him last minute that she’ll be bringing her posse with her? Ouch! Talk about stress! Damn that slore for stressing the kid out and inflicting all of us on him at the same time.

Mike ordered a round of drinks and Brandon had a couple of more shots. We were having a Bronx vs. Queens contest. It’s common knowledge that our peeps from Queens have to be pried out of their boro and can not hold their liquor so the Bronxites kept teasing the Queens peeps over it. I decided to stick up for my Queens peeps…”don’t baby-sit your drinks Queens show them Bronx bastards what you’re made of drink, drink, drink!!” It would have been nice if Reina had told me that Brandon was from Queens because the last thing that kid needed was more booze.

When the time came to go home we decided it best to drive Brandon home we didn’t feel right sending his drunk self home alone on the subway. Watching Reina flirting in the back seat with him made me laugh alas poor Brandon I shall never hear the sound of your drunken laughter again. Reina likes you and if you like her too it’s a wrap I don’t see you hanging out with us anytime soon. Once we got there Reina decided to walk him upstairs to his house…hmmmm I wonder why? (wink wink nudge nudge)

As they walked away Brandon yelled out, “I like Mia!! Mia has a good head on her shoulders!” People I have no clue as to what that was about. Officer Mike thought it was funny.

Labels: a day in the life, relationships

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Friday, June 02, 2006

Batwoman is a Big Lesbian

Attention comic book collectors! In a move that probably has my lipstick lesbian grandmother dancing the mambo in her grave New York's DC Comics is reintroducing Batwoman -- as a big lipstick lesbian in a July issue of DC Comics called “52”.

For those unfamiliar with the term, a lipstick lesbian is a feminine lesbian as opposed to the buzz cut plaid wearing dyke stereotype. Batwoman’s alter ego is socialite Kathy Kane and this time around she is 5ft 10 inches tall. You hear that Jackie? She’s the same height as you! That’s one big heffa. Oh yeah and she has a beautiful ex police detective Renee Montoya as her girlfriend. You go girl! Okay that’s where the similarity to Jackie ends. Jackie has her boyfriend Carl, but she’s still one tall ass heffa.

According to news reports the re-invention of Batwoman is part of an attempt to introduce diversity into the super hero world and if you ask me it’s about freaking time. I mean you know rumors have been swirling around Batman and his boy ~~toy~~ wonder Robin for years. Needless to say there are some people who oppose Batwoman being made into a lesbian but to those people I say chill relax it ain’t that serious. Whether you like it or not whether you are tolerant or not the fact remains that there are gay people in this world get over it. I think that giving people something they can identify with is freaking fantastic. I remember as a kid watching West Side Story and being totally amazed and proud that the sharks were Boriquas like me. It wasn’t until I got old enough to understand stereotypes that I was insulted by the movie and I found out that only one of the stars (Rita Moreno) was Puerto Rican but still just the fact that they had Puerto Ricans on a screen was heaven for me.

Labels: sex

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Thursday, June 01, 2006

Wake up and smell el café con leche

I am the first girl he’s asked out since his girlfriend shipped out. Sitting there talking to me makes him feel as if he were cheating on her, he feels guilty. I smile at him," Relax it ain't that serious.I'm not interested in hooking up anyone.We can be friends. A person can never have too much chocolate, money or friends.” He seems surprised by my attitude.

As it always is with the broken hearted the conversation steers towards the one who broke the heart. The broken hearted always need to talk, even if you’ve heard the lament over 100 times you must listen as if it’s the first time you’re hearing it. How is it that the saying goes?...There but for the grace of God go I.

I ask him to tell me what’s on his mind. He is hesitant at first, I tell him aprovechate ahora (take advantage now) I’m a shrink in training in another couple of years you’ll have to pay me the big bucks to listen to you. Tonight for the price of a Snapple my ears are all yours. I pull my iced tea close to me sigh and sit back in my chair to listen. His eyes are full of pain, his jaw tightens up and he stares at the cubes in his glass. His whole being just screams heartache. I think back years back when my own heart was broken. Crap did I look like that?

Two years ago the woman he is so in love with was shipped out to war. He hasn’t heard from her since she left. Wtf is she missing in action or something? He hasn’t heard from her family either Okay she’s not dead. If she was someone would’ve told him.

I ask where was she shipped out to he’s not sure it was either Iraq or Afghanistan. Wait she didn’t tell him? She never wrote him to let him know where the heck she was ? OMG this poor bastard…he is clueless, heart sick over a love that was all in his head… wake up kid you were dumped! Part of me wants to tell him dude you know they give people in the military leave so the can visit their family right? Surely in two years she must have had leave. Don’t you think she’s been home to visit her family a few times? I say nothing keeping my thoughts to myself.

“I heard she had gotten married to some guy she met out there but until I don’t hear it from her myself I wont believe it. You know how rumors are. ” Yeah sometimes they actually contain a kernel of truth. I won’t believe it until I hear it from her.” Damn you’re one of those guys you need pictures painted for you. Hell-oh mister man you were dumped. Wake up and smell el café con leche. You were given the boot. I find myself angry at this woman. This is just too cruel. Why didn’t she just throw rocks at him and yell for him to get away from her ? I’ve seen it done in movies all the time. It always works with dogs, horses and the occasional elephant. “ Ahhh I see so you want closure.” I can’t look at him anymore I focus my gaze on my straw.” “Yeah.”

I think he’s actually afraid of closure and what it means. It’s easier for him to hold on to the illusion that she is still his. After all how hard would it be to go to her family’s house and inquire about her? Not very hard at all. I think he is afraid of what he will find out. He’s afraid he will have to accept it all …she never loved him as much as he loved her.

The next day I get a phone call from him thanking me for the offer of friendship. We talk briefly and after hanging up it hits me this was his last call to me…the guilt of having been attracted to another female is too much for him. Maybe he should consider becoming a monk.

How is it possible that if she loved him at all she could leave and never look back, never give him a second thought? How could she leave him twisting in the wind like that? She’s been gone for two years and still he remains faithful to her. Imagine feeling guilty over having an iced tea with me. In my short lifetime I have inspired many feelings but guilt has never been one of them. I am in the very least incredulous at this man’s love for this woman. He needs to accept the truth but it is obvious he can’t handle the truth at least not tonight, not from me. I haven’t known him long enough to state the obvious. He loves her with all his heart, he holds out the hope she will return for him someday in the meantime he acts like he’s alive but he is not. Two years ago she left and never ever wrote him one letter. Two years later he clings to the hope that she is still his, he still calls her his girl friend despite the fact that she is most likely another mans wife.

Labels: advice, friends

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