Operation Benetton

Word on the street is that little orphan Zahara isn't really that! The Sun says that she has a mommy in Addis Ababa (one of the coolest cities on the Amazing Race). So did Angelina abduct poor little Zahara so that she could make her part of her Benetton Live Doll Collection? Cause that would be fuuuucked up. Is she going to be hanging out with La Lohan and Rumor Willis soon? Cause, I do think she would look good in mukluks. Maddox is probably loving every minute of this. Zahara looks utterly confused and miserable. Pobrecita. Watch out Zahara because you might be over soon. Looking like Russian is the new Ethiopian is the new Cambodian.

Round 1: Longoria

Fire up the Gelat-O-Meter. What's this? Eva Longoria applying baby oil to her pompies, that's what it is. On the scale of all things old school gelat, Eva has taken the lead. Watch out Mendes because Longoria is taking the lead Bi-atch! Remember when your abuelita would get all mad at you for getting prietita during the summer? But you would slather yourself with Baby Oil and lay out in the santo sol in your front yard all damn day long, with minor breaks under the hose to cool off. Those were the days. You go, Eva. We ain't mad 'achta.

Battle of the Eva's

It feels like this year was the year of the Latina. While, J.Lo was busy getting married to the little sapo, Marc Anthony and Jessica Alba was being a self hater by talking about her “dark” Mexican Father, and Salma was off directing tv movies…two little girls named Eva hit the ground running. I have to say that I was really proud of all the fierce Latinas getting exposure. I mean, come on, Elizabeth Peña can’t be the only woman representing our Latinaness forever! I decided to check out the action.

I finally relented and watched the abomination that is Hitch featuring Eva Mendes. Oh Eva, you look so cute in your Cover Girl commercials. And when you don’t speak, you pull off that mysterious latin thing so well. But then you open your mouth girl, and DAMN. SAG called and they want their equity card back, cause mija you can't act. I wonder how long it’s going to take for the heads of studios in town to figure out that while Latinos love to represent, we also recognize when one of our own has started to believe their own hype. Look at what happened to Timmy T. ¿Pues que mas quieres?

Eva Longoria on the other hand has risen from the ranks of Young and the Restless slutdom, to primetime Desperate Housewives slutdom. And while I read all the books about the Latin Spitfire too when I was in college, I have to say that Eva is doing Rita Hayworth proud, so I ain’t hatin’. Also, much love to ya, Eva, for handling the whole “we hate Latinos unless they are Jimmy Smits cause he’s only half so it’s ok” award snubs. Your time will come. Just stop dating famous people, for the love of God. Did you learn nothing from J.Lo?

So I feel like we have been presented with the two actresses, one slot conundrum. I have my popcorn with tapatio and my Fresca ready. I'm sitting on my couch and I'm waiting for the fur to fly.

She Lives!

After much speculation that Marc Anthony had stolen her eggs and dumped the body, we find that J.Lo is, in fact, still alive! Having undergone Botox treatment while locked away in her Rapunzel castle in Puerto Rico, I have to say that she bares a strangely familiar resemblance to Dayanara. Hmmmm.

Photo Courtesy of Pinkisthenewblog.

Palabra De La Semana: GELAT

Gelat: Expression referencing people of Latin American ancestry residing in the United States. From the English Gelatinous :Resembling gelatin; viscous. Of, relating to, or containing gelatin, Gelat serves as a cross cultural referential noun for the one thing that all Latinos have in common - their love of hair gel, dippity-do, or similar hardening hair products. Those that can rock the baby hair, pull that trensa so tight that they look chinita, or roll in a convertible without messing the stilo are particularly archetypical Gelats.

Synonyms: Hispanic (imposed by The Man) or Latino (fuck you to The Man).

Sentence: Hijole, Gelats across America are just as embarrassed of Jessica Alba as she is of herself. That Gelat is one self hater!

Fake Is the New Reality

Laguna Beach you guilty little pleasure, you. I squint my eyes a little when I watch, because it makes it more real. When I see Morgan and Alex on a casual afternoon stroll at the beach, I feign surprise when they conveniently run into Jason and Talan running along the sand after a casual afternoon surf. When the kids go all the way to LA to bowl at Lucky Strike, I don’t wonder, “Who paid for their limo?". I just put it out of my mind and think, “Where is LC? Is she hurt that she wasn’t invited? Maybe she got a better invitation. Maybe she’s doing lines with Lo in her new bathroom.” When Kristen meets Stephen at Look Out Point and they have nothing to say to one another, I prefer to believe that it’s the tension of their strained relationship, rather than the fact that they have probably already had it out months ago when none of us were watching.

Why hire actors when you can get regular hotties to dish their personal dirt on national television? The kids from Laguna Beach are part of a new phenomena. Mark my words right now, fake is the new reality….and it’s so much better.

See what our friends at Gawker have to say about it HERE.

Patrick Swayze's Philosophies on Life

Inspired by a heady conversation with friends about the philosophies
on life we have learned from Sir Patrick Swayze's characters in modern
American cinema, we'd like to present:

Patrick Swayze's Philosophies on Life

Ghost: When someone tries to mug you, let them. If not, you'll die and have to watch Whoopie Goldberg French kiss your fiancé.

The Outsiders: It's hard to be poor and in a gang, even if you're
white. Also, don't go near fires.

Road House: Being a bouncer is a tough job, but the only way Kelly Lynch is going to fuck you is if you have a great mullet.

Red Dawn: If the Russians come a knockin', take your friends into the forest (preferably the hot ones), name yourselves the Wolverines and
you can live off food from your daddy's feed store.

Point Break: Never trust a cop named Johnny Utah.

To Wong Foo: If you dress up in drag, Wesley Snipes will mistake you for his girlfriend and beat and sexually assault you.

Dirty Dancing: Shake your pelvis like Elvis, sleep with the summer camp guests, wear leather jackets and smoke, and don't make fun of Mr. Kellerman. Above all, "Join hands and hearts and voices; voices,hearts, and hands." And no one ever, ever, puts Baby in a corner.

Start Me Over

So I just quit my job. Let me tell you everyday that I woke up in the morning as an employed person, all I could dream about was the day that I would not have to go to work and could just sit around all day. Well, the moment has passed people. I know that it is all down hill from here on out because of one evil thing that those day people don’t tell you about. Daytime TV.

Like a Meth Addict to a pipe, I’m ready for my friends to call an intervention because I am addicted to this little show called Starting Over. Oh my god, that shit is addictive. It doesn’t help that it’s on every weekday in the middle of the day so my productivity or attempt at it can start until it’s over at 1pm. And let’s not forget that I missed the first two seasons, so I am catching up on those too. God dammit, can’t I get catch a break?

Everyday my little TV sings at 12 noon on the dot with the theme song and a voice over stating ominously “Life Has Never Been This Real”. Starting Over is feel good reality. It describes itself as follows:

STARTING OVER follows a diverse and ever-changing group of women as they attempt to make extraordinary changes in their lives -- all while living together under the same roof. The women are joined by two life coaches, Rhonda and Iyanla, who will help them define their goals and outline the steps needed to achieve those goals.

But it doesn’t stop there, people. These women live in a house in the Hills. Have a personal trainer, gym equipment, a psychiatrist, and plenty of personal problems. All of this combined with a whole lot of estrogen in small spaces makes for great drama, lots of crying, fighting, hugging, and evil manipulation. And like converts at a church tent revival, we get to witness the “healing”.

Let’s take a look at some of the current and past House Guests:

Vanessa: A gymnast and Olympic hopeful who blew it at Olympic trials, Vanessa wants to redefine who she is and in the process needs to lose her crazy pushy parents and emotionally abusive boyfriend.

Bethany: A sudden amnesic, Bethany struggles to deal with what caused her [insert southern accent here] "meemree" loss and gain a better self image. When asked what one thing she remembered about her past was, she said she knew she had never been kissed. So sad.

Cassie: A recovering alcoholic, Cassie struggles to reconnect with her son much to the dismay of his crazy adoptive mother.

Rachael: After her parent’s death, Rachael was shipped off to a home for girls by her evil aunt who kept all her trust money left by her mother.

Tess: Crazy woman hating bitch stirs the pot and tells the other women to stop being such haters because she is so beautiful. Get over yourself girl.

Towanda: Toni Braxton’s sister tries to get out of the shadow of her famous sibling. Or is it all just a show to launch her own career?

Oh it’s getting me all wound up. I can’t even express how delicious it all is. And when the Life Coaches, Iyanla Vanzant and Rhonda Britten take these women out of their comfort zones there are some tears. They challenge the women with exercises like when one house guest had to carry around a suit case with items representing her baggage for a week. They share their own personal life struggles. Iyanla lost a daughter to cancer at the age of 36. Rhonda’s own father killed her mother and then himself in front of 14 year old Rhonda. Can you believe that? It’s crazy. And here they are all glassy eyed, zen and centered.

YOU KNOW YOU WANT OUR HELP!

I have a soft spot for Rhonda. She is so loving and kind. Or maybe the Botox just makes her look that way. In the end, I know it’s all bullshit, but I would like to believe that when she gently strokes Bethany’s arm after the tells her how she wants to choose a path of self forgiveness, that she really believes it. I want Rhonda to stroke my arm too. I want Rhonda to give me a hug. I want Rhonda to come to my living room and tell me it’ll be okay and drive me to the trainer and afterward we'll go get botox together at her Beverly Hills doctor's office. I want Rhonda to be my friend and that is why I have problems.

You see there are thousands of people who are devotees of Starting Over. Most of them middle aged women and gay men. The Life Coaches go on tours to cities across the country and people flock to their seminars. They sit on a stage and hash out all of their life problems in front of a few hundred people on a prefab mall stage for the one small hope that Rhonda will stroke their arm and tell them that it’s going to be okay.


The New York Times calls Starting Over the “gold standard” for reality programming. There must be something in the flash cuts or my water because I think the New York Times is right. For those of us who can’t afford real therapy or have run out of our Cobra, I just have one thing to say: Rhonda, start me over.

Drop By

I’ve never understood why people in small towns just drop by. Who invited you? Why in your right mind, do you think it’s a good idea to, just see if your favorite Aunt or Uncle is at home? Would you want people to drop by your house if you were sitting in your pajamas and drinking tea before bedtime? Or worst yet, what if you were torn from the depths of a late morning sleep by the doorbell and an unapologetic smile from the person on the other side of the door who fails to notice your bedhead and laganas?

This Thanksgiving and Christmas, I was reintroduced to the personal intrusion of the drop by. Man oh man, I never really though much about people just stopping by unannounced, but the holidays can magnify rudeness like big pores on your nose. The first drop by was courtesy of my uncle at 7 o’clock in the AM. Oh yes, you read that right. 7AM. He just stops on by because, you know, most people are awake on a Saturday at 7AM. And my dad welcomes him with open arms and they have coffee and chat away the morning in the loudest voices possible so we can all share the wonderment of the ’57 Chevy repair job that they saw on Monster Garage.

The next day, my dad’s primos called at 10AM to say that they were on their way over to say hi with family visiting from Texas. They called yes, but they were already on their way with a car load of people, from Texas no less, just to say hi. Three hours, two pots of coffee, and a banana nut loaf later they left. Then the neighbor stops by to chat with my dad about his tractor. Is it working? Is the engine still freezing up? How is the disk? Who fucking cares? Leave! No one invited you over shit head! We have things to do. I had about a half a pint of nice in me and I used that up with the cousins from Texas so you are shit out of luck.

Often times the people who do the drop bys also are prone to the early morning phone call. While some consider it slightly less intrusive, I find that the piercing ring of a phone at 6am, raises my level of anger just as much as the doorbell. You don’t call people unless it is between the hours of 9am and 10pm. That is just the rule! How dare you call someone at 6am? Are you kidding me right now? And it’s not even family from different time zones who are the worst offenders. Often it is people in the same town, city, state or municipality. Do you get up at 5am and twiddle your thumbs for an hour and pace back and forth in your living room waiting for the minute hand to click click click over to the 6 and the 12 so that it’s ok to call? Because let me tell you something, it’s not ok. When you hear the groggy voice on the other end of the phone, that is when you apologize and make a mental note that the Rodriquez household doesn’t get up as early as you. Then you don’t do it again. Don’t do it again, or else I’m going to have to go to your house and rip the phone out of the wall.

My parents have also become victim of the drive thru. When people drive by your house and into the driveway to take a better look to see if you are home. They look suspicious, drive suspiciously slow, often have unidentifiable cars, and generally drive you to dive behind the sofa to hide from the proverbial doorbell ring that might come if they see you sitting in the living room in your pajamas. On the four days I was home for Thanksgiving, my parents were the victims of no less than 4 drive bys. What is wrong with you people? Do you have no manners? I am the Queen of my castle and if I could I would build a mote. Stop dropping by and do one thing for me….call between the hours of 9am and 10am and see if it would be okay if you dropped by 2 days from now to say hi and offer to bring a snack. Then maybe we can talk. Otherwise, fuck off. I’m sleeping.

Funny or Mortifiying

When my mom made my family hold hands and say grace at Locanda Veneta while Ben Stiller sat one table away. Sigh.

Tivo Time

It's fall and that means time for new shows and the return of old favorites. We are talking scripted television here, none of this reality nonsense. I have found that in the vast expanse of cheap thrills that we wade through in the perpetual remote flip, there are gems to be found my friends.

It is a treacherous journey that these little shows travel with sharks that we call programming executives. Those that cannibalize their own product after 3 episodes because they think that we would rather watch reruns of Amish in the City instead of something original and fresh.

Today, I am begging you to take back tv. Let’s watch television, smart television that requires thought, creativity, and speaks to our intelligence. Can’t tv be good for you? Yes it can. So in the spirit of saving quality television, here are a list of great shows you should check out this fall.

Must See New Programming
Jack & Bobby (The WB) Sundays @ 9pm
Desperate Housewives (ABC) Sundays @ 9pm
Veronica Mars (UPN) Tuesdays @ 9pm

Current Programming Not To Miss
The Gilmore Girls (WB) Tuesdays @ 8pm
Dead Like Me (Showtime) Sundays @9pm
Arrested Development (FOX) Sundays @8:30pm


Notice how all the good shows are in the same timeslot on Sunday evenings. Conspiracy, I know. Tivo your way to freedom. Make it happen and tell your friends. There are some winners out there among the Hope & Faith’s, Reba’s, and Commando Nanny’s.

I will take a moment and put a special plug in for a lovely show that is already being hard hit by the ratings. Jack & Bobby is the story of our future President and his road to the White House.

This clever and heartfelt series touches on the relationships between mothers, sons, and brothers. It is well written, thought provoking and worth another look. So give it a look and let the The WB know that they weren’t wrong in picking it up and giving it a shot. This is your chance to save quality television.

The 5th Annual Ghetto Grammys

The 5th Annual Latin Grammys were on the other night. And in the tradition of my people, bad fashion choices and embarrassing comments abound. It was just like a painful family wedding but with open bar and on national television. But, as usual, it proved to be a fascinating anthropological experiment on “The Lats” and the people who love them. Those people being Budweiser and Wal Mart.

The Fabric Of Our Lives
Let’s take a moment and ask ourselves, Latino’s “Why are we so fashion challenged?” Ladies, spandex and sparkles aren’t a good thing, have never been a good thing, and will never be a good thing. Especially if you are someone’s tia and over the age of fifty. Alejandra Guzman I am talking to you. Seriously, what is up with the budget clothing choices? We have our own Grammy Awards and we have to fuck it up with shit like this? Just because your unemployed gay cousin Memo needs work doesn’t mean that you make him your stylist because you know that dress fell off a truck.

As for the vatos, Los Lonely Boys have crossed over but their hair is stuck in the 80’s. Guys, no one likes dudes with spit ends and puberty mustaches (particularly when you are 30 and not 12). Get some help, and don’t get it from Carlos Santana cause he has is own guru issues going on with those little pill box hats. Hijole brother, you need to put the pipe down.

Show Us Again How Ignorant You Are, Say It In The Microphone
So the Black Eyed Peas get on stage to tell us that we should all vote and make a difference. Then the idiots say “Hey, and maybe one day we can have a cool president who is Mex-ican just like me!” What? Are you seriously saying this right now after you just empowered us to go out and vote? You ruined it. Ruined it. No wonder Bush wants to close borders and enslave us all. Pendejos!

Watch Out Angelina, Latinos Have Their Own Ambassadors
Oh Lindsay Lohan, how we love you so. I’ve seen all of your breasts’..um..I mean…best movies and now you are an ambassador to all things Latino because you are dating child molester, Wilmer Valdarama. It brings a tear to my eye when I hear you say “Bweynos Nachos” on national television. I always knew you loved my people and now that you are boning Wilmer, we know just how much. Say it sister!

Then Jessica Simpson and little hippy Amber Tamblyn paraded out to show just how much they love our people because we brought them Baja Fresh. I hear Jessica loves their Naked Burrito. Ole!

All in all, this year’s Latin Grammys were a big yawn. George Lopez had some moments, but that wears thin after two hours of bad clothing and cringe worthy speeches. And to top it all off, Southwest Airlines was the carrier for the show. Can you imagine Shakira and Soraya fighting over seats and peanuts? Oh Latinos, when will we ever learn.

sigh.

wonderfalls,
originally uploaded by alegrecita.

Confessions of a Classist Driver

Driving is strategy. A game. It requires forethought, planning. One must be sleuthy and exhibit copious amounts of cunning. In my race, ne, drive to work this morning, I came to a scary conclusion about myself. I am a classist driver. Oh yes, I said it. I realized as I cursed the slow driving ’85 Toyota Corolla in front of me and swerved behind a BMW 325i that I had problems, major problems. But what is it with people in old cars? I mean I drove an ’82 Accord circa 1993 and my little wreck drove fast because I willed it to. Will people. Will. You put your fucking pedal to the metal and your car will excide your expectations.

The Gap is Not Just a Store
Just because you may be insecure, because your ride isn’t as cool as the next guy’s doesn’t mean that you don’t have to pay attention to the road. I’m the asshole on your bumper willing with bionic power for you to pay some fucking attention to the gap between you and the car in front of you. There should never be gaps in the road people. Pick up the fucking slack. If there is more than 2 car lengths between you and the car in front of you were is a problem, especially if this travisty is occurring during rush hour traffic. I just don’t understand it. How can you not pay attention? Do you not feel me breathing down your neck so that you will hurry the fuck up? When someone does it to me, I get stressed. Why are you so oblivious?

Mini Vans Are the Devil's Handy Work
The Astro Minivan. Evil incarnate. I think that when they sell you this car, Chevy fails to tell you that it doesn’t go above 5 miles an hour. Or maybe slow people are the only ones that think “Damn, I’m gonna look hot in this puppy” when they drive it off the show room floor. In any case, why is it that people in Astro Minivans are so damn clueless? Man oh man, if I’m ever stuck behind a slow moving automobile, chances are 9 out of 10, that it’s a freaking Astro Minivan with the bumper hanging off and a wire hanger for an antenna. Why can’t we just past legislation to get them off the road? Can we take away the licenses of the drivers who own them as well, to put the rest of us at ease? I know I would sleep better if there were one less Minivan on the road.

The Stuffed Animal Factor
I think my drive this morning summed up my feelings as a whole about negligent drivers. I once thought that they were just random people who roamed the earth in a fog. But now I know better. They are a type, a kind of people, a breed, a tribe. In a word, losers. They have but one little ping pong ball bouncing around in their little heeds, and that is to much for them. They are simple people, with simple thoughts like “Boy, oh boy. Wouldn’t it be so cute if I put a little stuffed animal in the back of my rear seat so that the person behind me could enjoy its cuteness too?” Well you know what? I don’t give a fuck about your distracting little animal. In fact, it’s stupid and all it does is serve to indicate that you are someone who isn’t paying attention to the road and you are too busy trying to see if I notice your little fucking stuffed animal in the back of your car. All it makes me do is think, “Dammit, another idiot with the stuffed animal, now I have to change lanes because this mother fucker isn’t going to get off their ass as soon as the light changes.” For the love of God, give it a rest. Don’t be cute, be smart. Better yourself and lose the plush.

In a recent trip to Canada, my driver pointed out to me a big sticker on the back of the car in front of us with an “N” on it. “You know what that means?” he asked me. “It means that that person is a new driver. They have to have that sticker on there for a year before they can take it off.” All I could think is that while I may think that Canadians have the most annoying accent on the planet, they sure are smarter than we are. I think a Scarlett Letter “S” for Stupid Driver would serve to open our roadways and our minds to defensive driving. Then I would know and not have to look for Astro Minivans with little stuffed animals in the back window and curse my life.