Go Ahead. Axe Me. Axe Me.

My bro sent me a fantastic article from today's LA Times about Gustavo Arellano's Ask A Mexican column in the OC Weekly.

I think that Gustavo is on to something here because, homeboy touches on some very interesting questions that would make anyone wonder. The first question is particularly near and dear to my heart considering that I come from a tiny town of 18,000 people and there are no less than 5 chinese restaurants. Shout out to my girls at the Tea Garden, what up chinas?! My dad is particulary convinced that all Mexican's are, in fact, half Chinese because of our affinity for the crispy noodles and chow main. yum!

Or, did you know that Mexican women don't walk out the door without looking bien fufuruffu? It's a violation of a cultural rule. eeee, what would people think of you?

The things that you learn, gente. The things that you learn. Visit Gustavo's column. Ask him a question. The answers might suprise you.

Here are some of the highlights:

Dear Mexican, My boyfriend is Mexican, and when we’re trying to decide where to go to eat, he almost always wants Chinese. Same with his family: when we recently visited some friends from Guadalajara, I was looking forward to some tortas ahogadas, but instead was served mu shu pork. Why do Mexicans like Chinese food so much?

Cuisine Confused in the I.E.

Dear Gabacha, Mexicans are eternally fascinated with Chinese, as this column has previously noted. Nothing piques our interest as much as the food. They eat what we eat: beans, pork, goat, turtles, rice, even dogs! But our interest in comida china boils down to economics, Cuisine Confused. Like Mexican food, Chinese is an ethnic cuisine where you can feast like a king on a day laborer’s salary. I can go to Hot Wok in Fullerton and order the three-item combo with fried rice, chow mein and a drink for about six bucks; not surprisingly, Mexicans fill up most of Hot Wok’s tables every time I visit. The value of Chinese food explains the popularity amongst Mexicans of instant ramen. According to the International Ramen Manufacturers Association, Mexicans consumed an average of 9.4 ramen servings in 2004, tops in Latin America and behind only the United States and Russia amongst non-Asian countries. Even the Mexican government distributes ramen to its poor . . . what’s that you say? Ramen is a Japanese dish? Don’t tell that to a Mexican, who believes anything Asian is chino even when it’s Japanese—right, Vietnamese readers?

* * * *

Dear Mexican, [some female readers asked]

Why do Mexican women dress up to go to the swap meet? …. Why do Mexicans put on their Sunday best to shop at Wal-Mart, Kmart, Target, etc.?

Dear Pochas,

… You gotta love our moms and aunts, ¿qué no? Despite living in abject conditions, never having enough money to purchase vaccines for the kids — let alone save up for a Prada this or Manolo that — Mexican women always primp themselves for something as simple as buying tortillas."

* * * *

Dear Mexican,

As an Asian person, would I be considered a gabacho? Or do I fall into the yellow bucket labeled chinito, even though I'm not Chinese?

Dear Chino, Like Americans assume all Latinos are Mexican, Mexicans think all Asians are chinos — Chinese. When I used to go out with a Vietnamese woman, my aunts would speak highly of mi chinita bonita — my cute little Chinese ruca…. Chinese were the Mexicans of the world before there even was a Mexico, migrating to Latin America a couple of decades after the fall of Tenochtitlán.

Everyone Needs an Arlene

Everyone needs a little help in their lives and when you're a Hollywood star you need it even more. But in this world of selling sex tapes and writing tell all books, it just makes you wonder who you can really trust anymore. That's why celebs entrust their assistant duties to their friends. I mean, what a great fucking way to hang out and get on payroll. That shit is genius. It's kind of like when your uncle would employ all your unemployable cousins in his mechanic shop or something. The Godmother of hiring your bff is J. Lo. She has her trusted friend from the block, Arlene follow her around and they get mani/pedi's together and J.Lo buys her things and she gets a salary. Arlene is brilliant. Other celebs like Jessica Simpson have followed suit. She has even flown CaCee (corn) Cobb out from Texas, y'all. Britney Spears has that feita Felicia follow her around everywhere tambien. Felicia also has really big ears so she can hear gossip and the click of the telephoto cameras from really far away. Tres helpful. All these assistants get the fancy treatment, get to be in magazines as "friend" or "guest" and yet they benefit from all the perks without having to be tabloid fodder. Who wouldn't want the left overs of someone's shwag bag from the Oscars? I mean come on now. Smart women. Smart women.

Just Like You and Me

I know this is a little late, but I just saw Eva Longoria on Oprah. Let me pause and make an observation. Say what you will about Eva being at the wrong place at the wrong time with everyone from Mario Lopez to J.C. Chasez in the press, this appearance really erased all those nagging questions I had about her. Eva Longoria is a class act, because she did something truly gelat...and she did it on national television. Oprah helped Eva redecorate the new home that she bought for her mom and dad.


Eva had no problem showing us the little ranchito that she grew up in. Eva's dad fed the chickens. Her mom cleaned their humble little kitchen. They even showed us their "pool", a 2 foot deep metal basin that the cows drank out of. Oh, how I related.

Eva told Oprah that she wanted her parents to be touched by the things that she got to experience in her everyday life. Oprah was happy to oblige. In the end, she was so greatful that Eva sponsored a Katrina house. How cool is that?

So props to you Eva for keeping it real. My parents have had multiple Betta Fish Vases in their home too, so I feel you girl. I feel you.



Note to Salma Hayek: The bar has been raised comadre. When are we going to see the humble little home (aka the giant hacienda) in your pueblito in Mexico that you love talking about? We're waiting. Tick tock.

adios welita

In loving memory of
DORA BALLI GONZALEZ
August 7, 1918 - January 17, 2006

After the Christmas holiday, my beautiful welita got very sick. She passed away on January 17th, 2006. My welita was the strongest, bravest person I know. She bore her cross bravely and lived her life with great dignity and grace. My I loved my welis very much and I'll miss her forever. Below is the eulogy that my brother and I delivered at her services.

We love you grammy.

My abuelita sewed me payamas made with love from the fabric of a bag of California Classic arina.

She taught me to spread a perfect spoon full of maize on an hoja with skill and ease.

My abuelita taught me how to say things like ay que chimpiotes y que varvara.

When I was sick, she feed me little spoon fulls of vicks and tea de anis.

My abuelita filled my life with remedios y requerdos from a corazon filled with una historia that she whispered in secret truths. Truths that spoke profoundly in their subtlety.

I loved my abuelita, and my abuelita loved me.

Today those words of amor y requerdo rest quietly on the lips and in the hearts of an entire family who owe so much to one person.

We are generations; sons, daughters, children, great, greater, and greatest, that are part of one whole.

We share the inherent gifts of power and spirit willed to us by a woman who raised us all in her own image. Her strength, fortitude, and grace runs through our veins. It lives in our souls.

Today we honor our matriarch, Dora Balli Gonzalez.

Dora was a woman who lived her life by example. Poco a poco she would say, knowing that little by little was all you needed to brave life. She braved it everyday and she taught us to too. She was our teacher, her heart our school.

Our lessons learned were many.

To be a person of honor and dignity.

To respect yourself and, in turn, you too will be respected.

Always strive. Strive and be a leader.

Make a little go a long way.

Never wear short shorts y paynate muchacha!

Ay que Dora Balli.

Our abuelita taught us all that your life was what you made it. She showed us that the journey was the destination. She whispered words of strength that rooted themselves in our souls when we thought that one day was harder than the next.

Dora endeavored to share her life with others knowing that every moment that you spend together is far more momentous than any moment you spend alone. We were her witnesses.

And so we remember. We remember little things like the smell of her face powder. The way she applied her lipstick. “Where’s my purse?” She would ask.

Right here, Grammy, right here. Holding all the little touches of who she was.

We remember the feel of her cool soft arms, her warm sweet smell, the softness of the crook of her neck.

The soft touch of her crooked little fingers, her delicate hands, every line an etching and story of a moment in her life.

We remember the moments in time when we were all together, sharing and living and holding tight to the memories that we were creating as a whole.

On a warm spring day in Providence...

On a warm spring day in Philadelphia...

I graduated college.

And so did she.

As she watched over 20 of us graduate from high school, we secretly knew it was also for her. She holds multiple degrees in life. She’s traveled the world tucked in the heart of each and every one of us as we experience opportunity singularly granted in her name, blood, sweat and tears.

She witnessed births, unions, triumph and celebration. She held us when we cried, she picked us up when we would fall. She raised us and sent us out into the world, knowing that we could not falter if we held tight the whisperings of her heart. Every step on every journey that we thought we took alone, was with her.

Perhaps W.H. Auden said it best, because….

She was our north, our south, our east, our west.

Our working week, our Sunday rest.

She was our noon, our midnight, our talk, our song.

When we think of our abuelita, we know that she was the woman, who made us strong.

And so today your generations give you thanks Mom, Ama, Welita, Welis, Lita, Grammy....for molding us....for teaching us....for loving us, as we loved you.

Welita, you sewed us all payamas made with love from the fabric of a bag of arina.

You are were the thread reaching through us to the depths of our souls, our memorias y requerdos.

And through you, we too will find our way home.

Manteca!

Okay, here is my official holiday post. It will be followed in a few weeks with my post holiday post. That doesn't sound right, but I'm rolling with it. Moving on. So this year, I decided to make cookies for Christmas. I don't know what came over me except that I am sick of going to the wine store and tying ribbons around wine that I pick by price and foreign-ity of label, because I don't really know how any of it tastes. I know foregin-ity isn't a word, but I like it okay. Anyway, this year, I endeavored to actually use my oven, which I bought on craigslist for $75 bucks. I figured I should get my money's worth.

So I called up my mamacita and asked her how to make polvorones, aka the mexican wedding cookie aka the thing that makes me fatter every year especially when combined with tamales. She found a recipe from my cousin and so I was off to the store to buy the following:

1 5 pound bag of flour
1 5 pound bag of sugar
2 pounds of manteca aka lard
cinnimon
anis
1 cookie sheet and one xmas bell cookie cutter because I don't cook

+

=

I got home, opened a beer, put on The Notebook and I was off to work. I mixed my 8 cups of flour with my 2 cups of sugar with my whopping 1 1/2 pounds of manteca together with my hands. It was gooshy. It smelled like refried beans. It was gross. I made some anis and cinnamon tea and put that in there with a questionable egg that was in my fridge. Do eggs go bad? I don't know. But it didn't smell bad so I went with it. Let other people get sick. Who cares.

I rolled out my dough and I started to cut the cookies. I put them on the sheet, baked them, rolled them in the sugar and voila - I had polvorones! Wow, who knew that baking could be so fulfilling? It was crazy. People should use their ovens more often.

Then it was time to taste test the polvorones. I took a little bite. Flakey. Sweet. Mixed with a little bit of....what is that taste....I can't quite tell....um.....animal fat. My polvorones tasted like dead pig. All I could taste was the manteca. I ate two and my stomach was a mess the rest of the night. I'm not used to eating all that manteca. It was really upsetting. I asked my mom to taste her polvorones. Do they taste like dead cow? No, she said. They taste like cookies. Maybe I was missing something because mine tasted like I was eating a dead pig rolled in sugar. I was angry.

I tried one the next day. Nope. Still tasted like dead animal.

I asked my mom what I should do. Should I go buy Shortening? The fat of the white people? Mexicans keep it real with Manteca. White people buy Crisco. She told me to try it.

So the next day, I opened another beer, turned on The Notebook again, and tried the process over, this time with shortening. It worked. My polvorones were fantastic. They didn't taste bad. They were delicious. So delicious that I wanted to eat them all. But I restrained.

I guess I'll just call my cookies polvoroneys because they have a little bit of white people in them. But I promise to never eat out of an Ortega Taco Kit. Then I'd be in trouble.

Stay tuned for next week when I give the recap of My Big Fat Mexican Christmas. Let's see who gets drunk by noon, let's see who doesn't show up, let's see who only brings 2 liters of sodas to the potluck. I hope the baby jesus doesn't cry.

If Rachel & Ryan can do it...so can you!

This is for all my New York friends (you know how you are suckas) who are making the walking trek across the city due to the strike. Know that you are getting good cardio done. Know that you will have tight gluts. Know that you just might spot the cutest couple in the world. A little McGosling can always put a little hop in your step during that 6 mile walk to or from work. Normally, I complain about all the human contact that I am bombarded with on the streets of New York. But if I had to walk across the city and ran into these guys, I wouldn't mind so much. Hang in there guys!

Things That Make Me Cringe

The Cringe Factor is supremely underrated. When I watched the Ashlee Simpson snafu on SNL with my comadres, one of them, "The Baby", got so embarrassed for La Ashlee that she changed the channel and we missed half of the how-down dance. There is something about the Cringe Factor that is just emotionally indefinable. I mean, it's so spectacularly terrible that you can't believe your eyes, your brain doesn't know what to do, and there is a schism that often paralyzes you into half laughter, half open mouthed wonder.

Today I found a terribly cringe worthy moment online. Witness it ladies and gentleman. Clay Aikin's flirtation with heterosexuality. Poor Kelly Clarkson. I'm sure this cost her thousands in therapy bills.

CLICK HERE...Clay's not gay...Okay, maybe a little...CLICK HERE

Huh?

I have no words. No words. Okay, maybe a few words. Like what the fuck is going on in this picture? Is that world so warped that this is appropriate public behavior? I don't know what to say, which is I guess appropriate, since Chaplin made silent movies. Oh. My. God. Seek. Help. Now. This is what happens when you don't listen to your trusted assistant. Where is Arlene, J.Lo? You need to keep that bitch as close as Jessica Simpson keeps CaCee Corncob. Buy her a car. Something. For the love of God, woman. You were busted already, but if there were any doubt before, it's over now. He's ruined you.

[source]

AGRO

I've had a almost a week to sit with my feelings about King Kong. And you know what? It wasn't just that it wasn't my kind of movie. It was one person's kind of movie. It's the movie that smelly, IT, virgin nerds like. It's the kind of movie made for people who would rather live in a fantasy world and play Dungeons & Dragons and Magic: The Gathering at Comicon because they are so socially inept that they can't function in the real world with the rest of us. It's the kind of movie for people like that dork on Ain't It Cool News or Roger Ebert or that guy who sat next to you in science lab with boogers. It's the kind of movie that makes you think again when you sit in a movie theatre seat and things are sticky (ew!). So when people try and tell you that King Kong is some epic movie where they were just a little bored, but it was a Peter Jackson film, so it's okay that their ass fell asleep - well - they are lying to you! When you hear commercials with that "serious film voice over" voice, know that people are fucking with your head. It's hardly a serious movie, let alone a movie at all. What a load of crap! ARGH!!!

Kong Yawn

So my very nice friend invited me to see a preview screening of KING KONG. And while I would normally have no desire to see a movie about a big Ape, I went for the chicken wings and snacks that were provided before the show. Universal makes a mean peanut butter cookie, let me tell you.
So King Kong is probably one of the most anticipated movies of Christmas, along with the Chinese Geisha and the Gay Cowboys. You know that everyone is going to go on Christmas day to go see this big epic action film by the "DIRECTOR OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS!". Well I'm glad I got it over with because, damn, that movie was the most ridiculous waste of 3 hours and 10 minutes of my life next to my last visit to the DMV. Someone needs to have a talk with my boy Peter Jackson because he has been smoking the Hobbit Hooka too long and hard if he thinks that people want to sit through shit like that for that long. Here are some rules for PJ when he starts thinking about his next movie:



1. Long action sequences are boring. After 2 minutes, we get it. We don't need to drag it on for 10 minutes. I don't like to run that much, let alone watch other people do it.

2. Dialogue is a important. 10 minutes with no dialogue makes you, how should I put this delicately, FUCKING BORED! This isn't the age of silent film for the love of christ. Let the actors speak so that they can earn their salaries.

3. Jack Black is a comedian. Jack Black is not a dramatic actor. He just isn't. I love him in School of Rock, but I just can't take him seriously with that smirk on his face. Sorry.

4. A good wig maker will make or break your movie. When I have to see people's fake hair lines 40 feet high, it just takes me out of the movie. I have to be honest here. I can't stand looking at Naomi Watts with shitty hair. I'm sure that King Kong was annoyed by it too. I know he loved her so he moved past it. But why are you making the rest of us suffer? Take a cue from Nic Cage. He works that shit into his budgets.

5. Dudes climbing mountains isn't that interesting. When the hobbits climbed the mountains for a half an hour in the Lord of the Rings, I got really pissed. It made me mad. Why? Because I didn't pay to see a fucking nature documentary about Mount Everest! CGI alone, does not a good story make. So why do people have to be all up in the mountains again in King Kong? We've seen it. We've had our fill. For the love of God, move on. The rest of us have.

6. Colin Hanks sucks. He is ugly. He looks like his dad. He sounds like his dad. He walks like his dad. He probably bones like his dad. He probably only scores with ugly chicks. I'm over it. Why do people put this retard in their movies? He's so fucking annoying. I want to punch him in the face. Your face is stupid Colin. YOU HEAR ME?!

7. Naomi Watts needs motivation. I have to take a moment and give some props to Naomi Watts because sister acted on a gimble behind a greenscreen with a bunch of New Zealanders standing around eating craft service and somehow she had to get all up in her character and pretend she was falling in love with a big monkey who looks like my dog, Buddy. So props to you Naomi. But is it just me, or did you look the same in every scene?

THE MANY FACES OF NAOMI

In the end, I know I'm just not the right audience for this movie. I'm not making any illusions. The top of my Christmas Movie List right now includes The Family Stone, Rumor Has it, Syriana and Brokeback Mountain. I liked Peter Jackson circa Heavenly Creatures, but that's just me. I'm sure that Peter Jackson could give a flying fuck what I think of his movie and that it will rake in the bucks for Uni, but next time, I'll pass. Unless there's cookies.

Jen Garner Explodes!

It's official after an 18 month gestation period, Jennifer Garner finally gave birth to a baby girl. After much speculation that she had actually swallowed Jennifer Lopez (using her unhingable man-jaw) and kept her prisoner in her belly, rumors were squelched when she actually birthed the Garner/Affleck Zygote named Violet on Thursday. Affleck was on hand with a bottle filled with Starbucks Vanilla Soy Lattes for both mom and baby. Marc Anthony cackled in evil laughter after fooling us all for so long.

Photo: A Socialite's Life

We Get It...Now Comb Your Hair

Michelle Rodriguez is bad. We know that. We get it Michelle. You’re a bad girl on and off the screen. You box, you surf, you race cars, you are on S.W.A.T. teams, and now you’re all agro on the deserted island of Lost. When I saw you on the island, I knew that something was up. You clenched your little horsy teeth and I knew you weren’t unhappy because you were eating mangos and needed a bath. It’s because you were up to no good. I still don’t trust you Michelle. You little Rambina, you. You’re a bad ass mofo who likes to kill innocent blonde white girls who’ve had a tough life. Now you’re going to try and move in on the Kate-Jack-Sawyer love triangle on the show. I ain’t having it. Why don’t you get with Claire or Sun. You know you like chicks. We all know you do. Stop lying to yourself. The island is all about starting over. Embrace the pooty. If you did, I bet you wouldn’t be so damn angry all the time. All suspicious and shit.

And while you’re at it, can’t you find some fucking coconut oil or something to put in your hair? You’re doing gelats a disservice by allowing the world to see your fly-aways. If it were me, I would have had that written into my contract. Why do you think Evangeline Lilly never looks busted? Because she regulated. You need to stop being all conspiracy theorist and start taking care of what’s important. Your looks. Pretty people don’t die on la isla bonita, only the ugly dispensable people do. I’m just sayin’.

Gwen Stefani: Chola Couture

Whud up peoples? Me, nada. Anyways so yeah, you seen that new video for “Luxurious” by my homegirl la Gwena? She’s all ruca’ed out and shit. Damn peoples, her eyebrows were all perfect and shit. She even had a tear drop on her eye like she was going to fill it in when her viejo Gavin was out on tour and left her all alonez. Chale, if my man did that to me I would be like “Fuck that, viejo. I know there’s all these hoodrats and scrapas out there trying to get wit-choo.” Nah, I ain’t having that. Those little putas better watch their backs cuz La Gwena would throw down, no joke. She has a big ole posse up in that video. The little japonesas are all up with do rags and shit in their little straight hair. Bien Harajuku. La Gwena even shows some respeto to Frida Kahlo in this one part with the dress and hair y todo. It’s perdy bad. She has this one shirts that has La Virgen on it that’s perdy cool pero, you have to be careful with that because your moms might not like you to be getting all sexy with La Virgen on your chess you knowz? Yeah so anyways, La Madonna better watch her back too with her little 80’s videos, because La Gwena is straight up Anaheims. Anaheims is hard core, don’t let El Mickey or La Minnie fool you foolio. Stoooopid. Homegirl La Gwena has shown her true placa on this one. Props to you Gwena. You’re my homegirl por vida. Punto.

Um. No.

Ok, this is just wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. My eyes are burning. Ahhhhhh! Marc Anthony obviously is slipping Jennifer drugs or something because I seriously cannot even comprehend the seriously fucked up event occurring in this photo. He looks like he is going to get grease all over her! You see how his hand is all knotted up and he is shoving her to him? It's because she's afraid he's going to hit her. She's afraid of him gente. ASUSTADA! She should be afraid. She should be afraid for herself, her future, and her womb because if she grows a little sapo Anthony baby in there it' s going to come out a salamander and turn into a little frog. A greasy little frog that can dance, but a frog none the less. Rib-bit. Ugh. I just got the chills. Gross.

Anatomy of a Gelat Sweet 16

My Super Sweet Sixteen has been on my mind lately. A lot. A lot, a lot. And not in a good way. Last season it was all about Ava. Her dad “ruuuuuined her birthdayyyyy!” because he didn’t get her the Land Rover she demanded with a stomp and a pout. Hart came in a close second when his father instructed him to hire hookers off the street to populate his empty party. Insert sounds of crickets here. Then there was that girl from Roswell with the complex because people thought she was rancho and was going to only invite Mulder and Scully to her party. It was all very interesting. I watched it. I enjoyed it. I digested it….though sometimes it sat in my stomach like a rock for a while because I just couldn’t believe what my peeps were peepin’ when these little bitches were getting BMW’s at 16. I’m 29 and drive a Honda. Let’s keep it real.

But this year the tables were turned. Things changed. And you know why they changed? Because the Gelats got involved. That’s right. MTV finally decided to bring it home, show us where it all started, back to the peeps who really know how to throw a party….the parents of young latino girls.

This season we had the pleasure of meeting Lila and Janelle, Mexican and Cuban respectively. And these two little gelat princesas threw their parties in style. Let’s recap together what a real Super Sweet 16 should look like.

Anatomy of a Gelat Super Sweet 16

Your Father should be very mysterious and make ambiguous references to his work. We all know he is a drug dealer or Narco, but girl we won’t tell. Noticed how Lila lived in San Diego, very close to the border? We never saw her dad really. Her mom had very good taste and came from a wealthy family from the motherland. Wealthy Mexicans is a bit of an oxymoron on most days. But not when you are talking about wealthy Mexicans within close proximity to that big giant fence separating the United States from Mexico. For me, the private plane with the Mexican flag embossed on the side was a tell tale sign that these people don’t fuck around. Hmmm. Janelle lives in Florida. And while you might think that Florida is all about sunshine and sandy beaches. It’s also about snow, the kind that goes up your nose. Janelle’s dad kind of hung out and handed her large amounts of cash. He also had a hairy chest and rings. While not wholly incriminating, they make you wonder.

Be afraid of your moms. Be very afraid. You notice how all the other little brats on My Super Sweet 16 were all up in their mother’s grills, throwing fits and being little mocosas. Not Lila and Janelle. When they got out of line, one word from their mothers and that was it. They clammed up like little abalones. When Lila’s mom didn’t like the dress she picked out in Vegas, all she had to say was “I don like eet.” “But mammmmiiii!” “I say, I don like eet. No Lila!” Done and done. When Janelle tried to blame the hair dresser for the upsetting ponytails that her damas wore, she too gave a “But mammmmiiiii”…to which her mother replied “I don like them. They look like horses. Don’t blame the hair dresser, Janelle. Do them over. NOW!” Done and done.

You crash the party, you deal with moms. Lila’s mom had silver charms engraved in Mexico with numbers on them to denote people’s invitation to her daughter’s party. She then proceeded to stand at the door and bite every single one of them with her teeth to determine their authenticity. Ouch. Janelle’s mom told some little booty party crashers that they weren’t invited and they should leave, besides their outfits weren’t nice enough to get into the party anyway. Latino mothers have their standards!

All dancing will be choreographed. Gelats don’t like to make fools out of themselves. We all pride ourselves in our sense of rhythm. That’s why Janelle had some serious choreography going on in her quincieanera. There was a waltz, a salsa, a rumba. Those little latin hips were a shakin’. Lila’s mom hired a groupo from good old Tijuana, clad in silk lime green shirts to lead the whole party in choreographed fantastical joyousness.

Remember, this party is for your family, not you. Lila and Janelle’s parties were all about their extended families. All 100 of them. V.I.P. needs to be standing for Very Important Primos because that is who you are going to find drinking all your liquor and dancing on the tables. Your grandma may also decide to participate in the carousing after a few margaritas. Prepare yourself.

Now when I was of age and asked my mom if I was getting a quinceanera she turned to me and asked me if I wanted to go to college. I said yes. She then told me that there was no way in hell she was wasting her money on a stupid party for a fifteen year old girl. Done. End of conversation. So Lila and Janelle, I’d like to thank you for letting me live vicariously through you. I may not have a jet, my dad may not sell drugs, but I am afraid of my mom, have about a hundred primos, and dammit I can dance. So let’s see those little white girls on MTV top that bitches!

**Disclaimer: The Brown Office of Financial Aid would also like to extend it’s thanks to my mother for her checks. They’re scared of her too.**

That's right

for speaking the truth. The unspeakable inaction committed by our federal government after Hurricane Katrina serves only to underline the institutionalized racism and classism that perpetuates the systems of power in this country. People keep saying we need to stop playing the blame game. Well you know what, fuckers? I'm not ready to stop playing. I'm going to keep playing. And I'm not going to stop until people start paying some fucking attention to the injustice that has occurred. The blood of American citizens is on the hands of the Bush administration and every single person who profits from this administration's policies. Until the rest of us do something, this will only be the beginning. Don't let people push this under the rug. Talk about race, talk about class, because the reason that people died was because George W. Bush and the people that work for him have allowed American citizens to parish because they didn't think that they were important enough.

Motherfuckers!

Since George is sending all of our tax money to Iraq, please consider donating to one of these organizations.

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.