I know huhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Sometimes in your life you are lucky enough to encounter a fierce ass chola who rocks your world. The plant is changing gente, changing big time righ' now. Why? Because a fucking chicana veterana of alllllll veteranas has invaded the place where they make wonder bread and ginger bread houses for the people of middle america. American Idol. I was pissed when they kicked off Danny Noriega cause he was a fierce little bitch with puro attitude. I loved him for his swaga' I loved him for his swing. But mainly I loved his pimp chola of a moms. Evidence of her power has surfaced from her myspace. Here are some pictures with her own captions. I couldn't have said it more betters myself. I dedicate this song to you....

chongalicious definition
arch my eyebrows high
they always staring at my booty and my panty line
you could see me
you could read me
cause my name is on my earrings
girls got reasons why they hate me
cause they boyfriends wanna date me

i'm chongalicious

y punto.

TEXT:
"I LOVE MY FAMILY VERY MUCH...I GUESS YOU COULD SAY I'M LIKE A MOTHER LION...YOU FUCK WITH MY CUBS AND I'LL KILL YOU AND EAT YOU...IT'S THAT SIMPLE...THOSE THAT KNOW ME, KNOW THAT I COULD BE THERE WORST NIGHTMARE WHEN IT COMES TO MY KIDS...AS I MENTIONED BEFORE...THEY ARE MY WORLD...NEED I SAY MORE..."

1984...MY FIRST BORN @ 2 WEEKS OLD...HE'S 23 NOW...SHIT I'M OLD

~1984~

ME IN 1982...WHEN I WAS A SKINNY BITCH

SAD SAD GIRL...LOL!

JUST FOR THE RECORD...I'M NOT A WHITE GIRL...I'M 100% CHICANA

I'M WATCHING YOU!

GRRR!!!!! THIS LION WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND EAT YOU...LOL!

DON'T FUCK WITH ME BITCH!

SEE HOW CALM I AM AFTER A FEW ANGER MANAGEMENT CLASSES

FEELIN IT...MAIN EVENT IN EL MONTE

source

Election '08

Okay, so I'm going to be perfectly honest here. I don't know who to vote for tomorrow. I am totally confus-ted. This ultra liberal, woman of color wanted to vote for the southern white gentleman from South Carolina, John Edwards. Until bitch dropped out. I ain't gonna hate though, because his old lady is really sick yo. I mean pobrecita being like "It's okay viejo, I'm going to kick the bucket real soon, so you just keep on running for President." So for Elizabeth Edwards' sake, I'm glad John Edwards can focus on his wife and family.

I guess now, it's Hillary or Barry for me. I watched their debate last week and I thought they were going to make sweet love to one another right there on CNN. It was NOT helpful for those of us who are getting picos in our nalgas from this painful fence that we are sitting on. My mama says she hopes I do the "right thing" and vote for Hil. My political junkie bro is voting for Barry. One is an agent of change, the other wants change we can believe in. I like change. Channnnge clothes, annnnd gooooo. That's one of my favorite jams. They both are different from the monkey in the White House right now. But, I also voted for change in '92 only to get the bitch slap of the century when Bill and Al realized that you can't change the system, you gots to work the system like a high priced hoe. Like "Fancy" in that Reba McEntire song. So who's gonna put on their patten leather boots and strut for me? Hil or Barry?

A joint ticket might be the solution, but I don't know if these two A types would agree to that. I'm sure it would make every liberal in this country cream their pants a little. Or a lot. I also think that if they shared the same orbit, Michelle "Omarosa" Obama and Hillary "Boom Boom" Clinton could have weekly UFC cage matches. But while it would awesome to watch, imagine what it would cost us in health care? On the other hand, Bill and Barry would give really good commentary speeches about it afterward. I don't believe Hil when she says she doesn't play doctor with special interest groups and the fact that she is friends with Antonio Villaregosa, perhaps the worst ambassador of my people since Richard "The Night Stalker" Ramirez, well, it doesn't make me feel great. On the other hand, when Barry gives speeches saying "Yes We Can" I want to scream. My people invented that saying, you stealer!

But the fact that I'm nit picking about these little things can only mean good things in the end I guess. And that is this. Never in my life, having knocked on doors for Jerry Brown, Walter Mondale, Michael freaking Dukakis, or Bill Clinton have I ever felt like we had two really good choices. We do. I just wish I knew which one to pick. So instead, I think I'm gonna do this:

I think I'm going to vote for Roseanne. I know she is bat shit crazy. But I love me some Roseanne and I would not be opposed to her becoming the President because you know she will make calm decisions after 5 nice glasses of merlot. She also has a very delicious platform:

Triple teachers' and policemen's' pay and raise the bar accordingly.

Establish a union of the working poor with the Attorney General as their lawyer.

Replace Organized Religion with strict observance and enforcement of the Golden Rule during my first administration.

Foreign policy statement: "Hey, how's it going? We're your global neighbors. Here's our number if you need something."

Back our currency with yummy baked goods

Abolish the IRS

Birth control in the water supply for the the first two years of my administration.

All sewer and septic tank maintenance performed by convicted corporate criminals.

All medical testing performed on child molesters and animal abusers.

Minimum weight for supermodels: 140 lbs

A ver que pasa. I guess I'll just have see what my heart tells me tomorrow. Maybe I should have some merlot first.

source

Much Better

Dear Katherine Heigl,

Thanks for listening to me and fixing your teeth. I knew some how that the baby Jesus would get my message to you. I watched Oprah and even I could see the delight on her face when she realized she didn't have to sit so close to your snaggle teeth anymore. I thank you, Oprah thanks you, and I'm sure Dr. Droffman's children thank you for contributing to their college fund. That is all.

Gracias,
a.ro

Just Sayin'

Tick-Ed

Every morning when I'm getting ready for work, deep in to the middle of my hair styling process, I inevitably have to pause to change the channel on my TV because I hear IT. The amazon sounding, high pitched wail of that fucking bitch from Wicked.

The voice over tells us that great tickets are FINALLY available, for the #1 musical in Los Angeles history, an extended run, don't miss the magic, see what happened before Dorthy dropped her ass into Oz. WICKED! THE MUSICAL! Then I hear it. I can't find the remote! Fuck fuck fuck! Hurry, I can't hear it! Nononononono. Make it stop. Must change channel. Pronto! "Ahhhhhhhhh-ahhhh-ahhhhhhh!" Nooooooooooooooooooooooo. Worst than knowing that Regis & Kelly are coming on in 2 minutes and I'm fucking late to work again, it's the shrill howl of Elphaba. That green bitch from Wicked.

You know what Ephebia, I know shit sucks because you are green. I know that your roommate Galenda is "Pop-Ular" and you are pissed because she is a selfish LA hoe, who in another incarnation was probably in the slutty sorority at USC. There are muchkins running all over the place. I know your paralyzed little sister gets more game than you and your only friends are flying monkeys. All of these things are super frustrating. But you know what? I am fucking sick and tired of hearing your sorry ass howl every morning when I get ready for work, on my morning drive, on my IM advertisements. Get the fuck over it. No one cares. Go wail in Schenectay you dumb bitch. I'm over you.

27 Dentists

Dear Katherine Heigl,

Congratulations on the big movie career, really. Props to you. I watched your movie yesterday. It was fun. Thanks for that. Just one question. CAN YOU PLEASE FIX YOUR FUCKING TEETH?! I mean that snaggle tooth. I was scared that if they had shown that movie in IMAX, the tooth was going to come out and stab me in the eye. I like both my eyes, they help me see. I don't want to have to wear a patch, even if it had Swarovski crystals on it in the shape of a skull.

When you are on Gray's, the snaggle tooth and the two middle teeth leaning inward don't bother me so much. I have a 19 inch TV circa 1992. But when I see your snaggle tooth and the two middle teeth leaning inward on the big screen, I get scared. And correct me if I'm wrong, but 27 Dresses is a romcom not a horror movie. I b scrrred o u teef.

This movie might propel you into feature film stardom. But when all I can see are your and James Marsden's teeth fighting for screen time, well it's a little distracting. He's getting a letter too. Kiki Dunst didn't respond to my pie charts and powerpoint presentation I sent to her publicist. I just hope that you will read this and take heed.

Your snaggle tooth and the two middle teeth leaning inward are your friends. I know they have been with you for a while, but you got lots of money now, yo. Sometimes you got to let shit go. Hillary Duff said good-bye to her baby teefs and hello and subsiquent quick bu-bye to her horsey teefs, Miley Cyrus said bye bye gummy smile. They are tween babies, you are a womanz. Go see Dr. Dorfman. Por favor!

kthanks.
a.ro

Resolve: Postivity in ‘08

I silently resolved to be more positive in ’08. If you know me, you know that is like me willing myself to grow a third eye in the middle of my heed. That is why I made a SILENT resolution.

Experiment Positivity ‘08 lasted 3 days, 7 hours and 10 minutes.

Oh, I made it through the 23 minute prayer at Christmas. Stay positive, it’s the holidays.
I made it through the trip to the new Walmart and all of it’s Chinese made evils.
I made it through the asshole who almost drove my brother off the road on the way home because he had a death wish and I almost ran him off the road in retaliation.
I made it through the flight to New York next to the Gelats from Southgate who decided it would be a great idea to talk and eat pumpkin seeds through the duration of the red eye to New York because they were “Going to see the ball drop in Times Square for New Years and try to get on TV with Ryan Seacrest.”
I made it through the 2 for 1 sale at Shoemania and actually purchased a pair of shoes.
I made it back on the flight from NY without getting SARS from the crazy woman sitting next to me who never covered her mouth when she coughed.
I even made it back to work in a pretty damn fucking good mood yesterday and stayed positive until I had to come back today and wonder why I didn’t save myself the misery of it all and stay home watching the “My Big Fat Fabulous Wedding” marathon on TV.

Postitivity ‘08 is over because I’m currently wasting my fucking life away at work listening to idiots talk about the Iowa Caucus and wanting to shoot myself. I want to shoot myself because people who are dumber than me are circling my orbit espousing about politics, while people smarter than me were wise enough to realize they would be assholes if they came to work and sat here playing Scrabulous on Facebook for 6 hours and kicking themselves for not bringing an ipod to drown out the din of ignorance that permeates my workspace like white noise. Why can’t we stop pretending that you people are informed and talk about Britney? Why can’t we talk about Project Runway? Why can’t I leave and go see the 5pm screening of National Treasure?!?!

I want to go home. That’s the only thing I am fucking positive about today.

Snack of Death: A Piggy's Vengence

I had a very bad incident with chicharrones this past weekend. Did I choke on one you ask? No. Me enchile? No.

I was biting into a delicious hot pica chicharone on Friday as I was preparing to watch High School Musical 2 and as I bit into it, the little chicharrone flake flew up into the air as they are prone to do and landed in my eyeball! OMG, the pain, the pain. It's like when you rub your eye after eating jalapeños. Worst of all, it was a flake and the pica together that were burning and itching my eye at the same time.

I ran around screaming and wondered to myself why I didn't have an emergency eye wash station in my house. I believe that all gelats should have them considering the ratio of chile to eye incidents that we are prone too.

I recovered and I didn't have to wear an eye patch, though I'm sure I could have rocked it if need be. I'm just warning you all that if you ever eat chicharrones do it with safety goggles or with your eyes closed. Now I'm never going to touch a maranito pan dulce or I'll be screwed!

I'm Back Bitches!

After a long spring/summer/fall (dios mio) hiatus, I'm back to the blog. I hate it when the crappy side of life takes over and you just become a sloth on the couch trying to keep up with the ever shrinking space on your tivo. No more. More posts, more love, more todo. Tu sabes.

From the archives, in honor of me being able to eat meat in three days, a little diddy about Easter:


It's holiday season again. And while one would usually wait until Thanksgiving or Christmas time to write a scathing something about the hurt that is family, I find that Easter says it best for me. My pain began with a frantic call from my mother.

Let me preface this by saying that as a Latina, more specifically a Mexican-American (or Chicana or Xicana or Revolucionaria or whatever the kids are calling it these days) I was born with a little black cloud of guilt over my head and it has followed me around my whole life. It's a mix of the ethnic, a mix of the cultural, a mix of the women in my life with a dash of Catholicism thrown in for good measure. Nia Vardalos thought she gave you a lesson in ethnic loving -- that girl ain't got nothin' on this shit.

The Gonzalez Family Reunion: where my family supposedly celebrates the resurrection of Christ. But if you were to poll them, you would hear their relief to return to things like soda, alcohol and American Idol after four long weeks of Lent. Four weeks can mean a lot of pent up anger and frustration and evil scenarios that make me think that my family is one step away from organized crime. Evil scenarios like the Great Church Hall Theft of 2003.

I'm from a small town in Central California. If we want entertainment, we go see Friday night high school football. If we want culture, we travel north to Fresno for the national touring company of Michael Flatley's The Lord of the Dance. This year we wanted drama, so we went to church.

In keeping with tradition, we rent the outside of our church hall on an annual basis. Steaks and tripas are barbecued (we get the meat free from our connections at the local grocery store). Kids hunt for Easter eggs (filled with money and confetti rather than candy). A horseshoe tournament is played (with a sweet pool). Alcohol flows freely (from my cousins who work for The Budweiser Corporation. Thank you, Budweiser.) All this to celebrate the resurrection of Christ and in the shadow of the giant 25 foot tall Virgin Mary statue that sits outside Sta. Maria de Guadalupe's Church Hall.

But this year something went terribly wrong. The phone rang one evening. It was my mother. The scandal in her voice was thick and quick. "Mija, we've lost the hall." She just said it. That was it. We had lost the hall. Someone had very unceremoniously stolen it out from under us and reserved it for themselves. "Don't people respect the fact that we have it every year?" she spat. "Who's family is as big as ours?" And that was it. The mortal truth. No family in town came close to our 200 plus members. But now that was all over. The church hall was a symbol of our power and presence in this little corner of the world. We had been duped. Someone had threatened the one thing that made us, family pride.

Deeper investigation from my aunt, the local gossip with connections because she taught catechism, led la familia to more clues. Seems that Tencha, one of the women who worked in the parish offices, was the key. Word was that Tencha had used her power on the inside to get the Church Hall for her family. "Her family isn't even as big as ours!" my grandma barked scandalously.

Suspicions were confirmed when, at mass on Sunday morning, Tencha gave us all mal ojo from where she sat perched on the church choir. "Ves, ves!" my grandma murmured during the hallelujahs. I was family and that meant that I couldn't get out, so along with my grandma I gave Tencha mal ojo back. All this on Palm Sunday. I felt dirty.

Like any well-oiled machine, we sent in the big guns in to fight the good fight on Monday morning. The self-appointed patriarch of the family, my mom's cousin Chonito was the head of the church building fund, organizer of the annual summer church festival, and a high up in the Knights of Columbus. He was also a wiz at strong arming local politicians and council members. Hell, even I'm a little afraid of him. Today, was the official drawing of the proverbial line in the sand as Chonito paid the Priest a visit. Chonito calmly asked the Father to "reconsider [his] decision". Hell, he might as well have brought the olive branch. Instead, he got a shrug and the big pass off. "The girls in the office handle those things, not me." The man who espoused the world of the Lord to us every week had no power over the catty ladies who sat in the front office typing the Sunday bulletin? Come on. In other words, no pleading with the greater good was going to work. So Chonito did what he does best. He threatened the Priest. "Father, you have a lot of people in this parish who are unhappy with you and now you have one more. I'm not someone you want unhappy with you." The Priest was shocked. Chonito stormed out of the parish office and rolled away in his giant Lincoln Navigator (limo tint? Of course. 20 inch rims? Hell yeah.). When I heard, I crossed myself. Oh Lord, was this sacrilege?

That Monday afternoon, everyone in our clan got a call instructing them never to go to that church again nor to give a single cent to the orchestrators of the Great Church Hall Theft of 2003. Fine with me, hell I didn't need to be getting mal ojo on a weekly basis or feel guilty for only giving change during collection because I couldn't break a $20.

We fight, we bicker, but the one thing that you can never do to a family is insult their pride, self-perceived power, or their ownership of a big piece of grass outside holy grounds. Of all of the trip ups and infighting that has occurred in my tenure with this clan, nothing has united us more than the Great Church Hall Theft of 2003. Secret family meetings were held about la situacíon (yes, the situation). I have never seen a phone tree develop so quickly, people volunteer their homes, or the homes of guys who know guys who may or may not have done jail time, tu sabes.

It all worked out in the end I guess. My parents still have to drive 30 minutes away to the next closest Catholic church and attendance of mass at Sta. Maria de Guadalupe's is down about 200 plus. But this Easter, steaks and tripas were barbecued, kids hunted for Easter eggs, and alcohol flowed (Thank you Budweiser). All this at our new location, found when we all put our heads together and got over the fact that in the end it was about the celebration, not where it was celebrated. This year's Gonzalez Family Reunion was perhaps more of a blow-out than any in years past. The location helped. But I can't tell you where it is. Your family might try to steal it. Then people would have to get hurt. Amen.

Is Britney....

...gonna be the next Anna Nicole? Um, I think she is well on her way. They need to do one of those intervention things on her or some-thing cause, they are gonna take her kids yo! Maybe she needs to go to the Christian rehab like my primos. That shit works, cause then you get addicted to the Lord instead of the smack. My primos are hella high on the Lord and like to say long prayers. I don't think Brit's family would mind long prayers instead of long humiliating interviews on national television. Whatever it takes is all I'm saying. Send her to Juvie, give her a beat down - R-E-G-U-L-A-T-E. Is her mama blind or something? 'Cause if I did anything that humiliating to my family, um, that would mark the end of my days on this earth. I'm just sayin', meal ticket or not, that girl needs someone to smack some sense into her bad weave.

BTW, love the tie necklace Brit. It's so classy. Did you get it at Claire's?

And did you wonder what happened to pobrecita Felicia, her trusty assistant with the unfortunate ears? Even Felicia was like "Fuck this crazy bitch, I ain't talking to Child Protective Services no mo'. I'm going back to the south y'all!" Here's what she wrote to the dude who used to run Britney's now defunked fansite, worldofbritney.com.



Ruben,
Once again–I commend you for your Honesty and Integrity. I have been reading your new website daily and am grateful to have that to go to, to check on the antics of Britney. Britney doesn’t have a Publicist for me to clear this thru first, so it will come directly from my heart to you!

I am writing in response to “Where is Felicia?” on your editorial.I am home–in Mississippi…….I am now a trained Corporate Flight Attendant and fly with a tiny jet company out of Georgia. I am also a substitute Preschool Teacher at the Church Preschool in my town. I LOVED being with Britney for the past 9 1/2 years. I enjoyed being a part of HER dream, but now, am living my own dream.

I cherish ALL the incredible opportunities that came my way thru my job with Britney and am crushed/saddened/heart sick by the way her life is unfolding…….

I want you to know Ruben that WE (as in her Family and nearest and dearest—ALL of whom are NOT on the payroll anymore!!) are doing EVERYTHING in our power to get help for Britney and all in our power to NOT pad the bottom or move the bottom, so when she does indeed hit rock bottom, she’ll stand up and walk away from this whole fiasco a new, confident, changed, career driven Britney like we all knew and loved.

There’s just so much you can do to help a person—I don’t dare want to be an enabler, and I cannot love her enough for the both of us. I cannot convince her in ANY way to love herself. All I can do is be a friend, someone that loved her for MANY years unconditionally, and PRAY. That, I have decided is the most and best I can do for my friend. I cannot save her from herself, nor can I commit her to any type of treatment program against her wishes and will. I am throwing my hands up and realizing that I am helpless over another—ANYONE!

It’s been a hard reality for me to face. I have lived my best example daily, and that is ALL I’m capable of. To see what’s transpiring now, makes me feel a failure, defeated. I LOVED and BELIEVED in what I was a part of for the past 10 years and was so incredibly proud of Britney and all she’d become.

All that to say this Ruben–I’m so Southern, and the BEST way for me to tell you how I feel is to say—You can just kick an old Dog so many times before he gets off the porch. I, FELICIA, am OFF the porch!!

Thank you for ALL you’ve done–ALL the love and support over the years. ALL the non-judgement and ALL the Honesty!

PLEASE let me know if there’s ANYTHING I can do to repay your kindness. With as much sincerity as I can Muster,

FE

I got your ice blended right here. You like that?

Children in Los Angeles are like accessories. Hot new Marc Jacobs purse, check. Iced Grande Latte, check. Child in a ridiculously adult outfit, check.

Per capita, Los Angeles has less children than your average American city, and for that reason some of us become desensitized to the little buggers. So when they invade your personal/public space, it’s like a dog whistle or a sudden outbreak of hives driving you to distraction.

Today, I happily sat in the local coffee shop working when some white people showed up with their cute little boy. He was wearing shorts and rain boots. I smiled. Then he sat right next to me, then he started to talk, then he didn’t shut the fuck up, then he started to jump on the chair next to me, then he spilled his vanilla ice blended all over the fucking leather club chair all while his oblivious mother stood there waiting for her Americano. Are you kidding me lady? Really? You aren’t going to regulate on this shit? And do you think it’s a good idea to give you hyperactive ADD child more coffee?! Cause let me tell you something, that kid needs a cachetada more than he needs a treat for the way he is behaving. You need to spank him and if you don’t, I’ll do it for you. Really, I’m happy to help out so that me and the other twenty people in the coffee shop don’t have to hear his high pitched screams and tantrums. And after I slap him, I’ll slap you. Pendeja.

Cage Match: Mariah vs. J.Lo

Bitch don't mess around. I NEED to see this girlfight. NOW. Oh, my little black heart would swell with such joy.

Comadres on ..... Beyonce

Sometimes, when you are feeling particularly unfunny and uninspired, your comadres bring it home with their insight and wisdom.

Comadres on: Beyonce - An Academic Discourse

IG: …I think Beyoncé is probably a biatch in real life. She just gives off that vibe. I’ve made up my mind that I just don’t like her, no matter how catchy that “Irreplaceable” song is. I think Jay Z deserves better. That is my deep thought of the day.

KGL: Speaking of drama, did you hear about the ruckus Beyonce and her parents were causing about Jennifer Hudson getting more press than B for "DreamGirls?". OMG. Supposedly, Mathew Knowles was completely rude to her on the set and at the premiere, and Mama Knowles was ignoring her. They wanted B to be the star and be considered for an Oscar, and the former American Idol was stealing all the press from B. with her amazing performance. The Knowles' are wrong. Act Christian, people! But...I still love Beyonce b/c she is from Houston and her songs make me want to get up and dance! "All the woMEN who are indepenDENT, throw yo hands up at me-e." Plus, I saw that she sells House of Dereon jeans at TJ Maxx and I love TJ Maxx.

MC: Beyonce sucks. He isn't irreplaceable. Who are you going to get better than him? Whatever. And how are you going to "upgrade him"? He has more $$ than you!

IG: YOU KNOW??!!! Whatever, B, Jay-Z is much too good for you, although apparently you are getting married this weekend. BLECH. And yes, I’d heard about how horrible the Knowles treated poor Jennifer Hudson. I hope she blows everyone out of the water and gets nominated for an Oscar and WINS. That’ll shut up stupid mumbler Beyoncé. I seriously, seriously think she is stoopid.

VC: mmm. beyonce's voice sucks. i suspected this for a long time, then my friend liz saw her and alicia keys and missy elliot and she said that beyonce was REALLY bad live. but i love her studio-enhanced music. jay-z is ugly. fix your teeth! you've got boocoo bucks. get braces! and work out a little. get a personal trainer for those arms! it's one thing to be poor and out of shape - but dude, you've got money. plus, the npr review of his come-back cd said it was lukewarm and middle-aged. plus, i didn't like that he was all DL about his relationship with beyonce. i'm not taking sides on this one b/c both of them are problematic.

IG: Bite your tongue, V!!!! Jay-Z is awesome. He's just ugly and there's nothing he can do about that (although I agree with you that he should hit up the gym - but I thought Beyoncé made him do that already???). And so what if he did not want to whore out his relationship with Beyoncé??

KGL: And whose song, "Murderer," makes me shudder everytime b/c it is SO awful.

VC: omg that is the worse song ever. she got a billboard award yesterday beating mary j and beyonce (i think). jay-z USED to be awesome. and braces take no effort - they even have clear ones now.

IG: And, she’s just basically admitting to being a ho. I mean, who DOES that???

KGL: Crazy girls with crazy eyes from Trinidad & Tobago, that's who.

AR: BTW, the Beyonce being mean to Jennifer Hudson thing is totally true. I have sources. And she was really mean to her at Oprah and wouldnt' talk to her because Oprah called J-Hud to tell her how amazing she was. Also, Michael Knowles called and demanded they recut the movie and they laughed in his FACE! Apparently, B is a big baby who totally believes all the hype that her parents have created around her. I just think about Michelle and Kelly. Kelly prob didn't have it as bad but Michelle had to have known what she was getting into.

IG: Ohhhhhhhhh, I hate Beyoncé. BTW, bitch, you can’t act. Get over yourself. It’s clear that you did not graduate high school. My mother, for whom English is a second language learned late in adulthood, has better diction than you. OH! I HATE HER! HATE! HATE! HATE! I hope Jennifer wins a million trillion awards and that Oprah become her fairy godmother spreading lucky gold dust all around her. I hate Beyoncé.

KGL: Ooh, as much as I love me some Beyonce, I truly DIG Mary J. Blige. She is so soulful.

IG: Do you all remember when Mary J. was a coke whore?? Literally? Back in the "Real Love" era --?? It was glorious! :)

Harry Potta'

Okay, I've never seen the Harry Potter movies. I know, I know. I really don't care if I ever see them ore not. But, I found this on youtube and it has amused me for 2 days. This girl is hilarious. When is she getting her own show?

Video the Vote!

Mighty Racist

Why does this picture of Angelina Jolie make me so uncomfortable? Perhaps because they darkened a bitch up to play that dead journalist's wife, Mariane Pearl.

It's for the new movie A MIGHTY HEART which Brad Pitt bought with Jennifer Aniston when they were married. When they seperated, he stole that shit from her and put sucia Angelina in it. I'm sorry but this is reaching SOUL MAN territory. I'm not okay with it. What does Zahara think of this?!

House of Crackheads

So last night, I watched the premiere of HOUSE OF CARTERS. I have to say that it was the most anticipated new show of the season for me because I've read every tragic detail of the break up of this family. Cheating father, lying mother, missing money, 19 year old hoe that daddy is fucking. I mean it doesn't get much better than that. Unless you televise it.....

I really don't know how I endured the hour of screaming and yelling. But having survived it, all I can really say is - wow, this family is fucked up! I mean, all our families have their degree of fuckedupness, but I think the Carters take the cake.

First, there is unfortunately named sister Bobby Jean (aka BJ). When your two options in life are to be called BJ or Bobby Jean, you kind of know that things aren't gonna go to well for you. BJ is the ugly sister. She has bad hair and bad skin and she makes it worse by smoking. She wants to be a cooking show host, which is ironic considering that the rest of the family hates her food. BJ is all about her low self-esteem, her big boobs and the bottle. BJ finds love with her bff alchy-haul, until people fuck up her buzz then she gets mean and kicks her dogs. Poor BJ, they should have left her in the trailer park in Sarasota. Her name is her fate and her fate is to pass the days on a lawn chair drinking and smoking her life away in front of the trailer park.

Aaron Carter is totally a meth addict. He's got the acne and the scabby face. He tweaks, I mean works, in the studio at ungodly hours and I think that he is abused by his big brother Aaron. He's like a lame puppy one moment and then he gets all crazy, invincible in the next. Pobrecito. I wonder if he used to freebase with Lohan or Duff. I would have paid money to see that.

Angel and Leslie want to be a model and a singer, respectively (or irrespectively). Angel looks like one of those girls who rocks the barbazon modeling classes at the mall. Leslie feels guilty for being the last one to leave their crackhead, thief of a mother back in Florida to peruse her dreams.

The entire house is headed up by Nick, who has taken on roll as segregate father to the brood because apparently, before this, they didn't even talk to one another nor did they know that they were all in the same city working on their "art". Nick is going to make all their dreams come true, just like Lew Pearlman did for him. During this time, he will whip them into shape by fighting with them, biting them (I'm serious), telling them that their mother used them all, and touching them in inappropriate places...okay, well maybe not that, but you get the point.

All in all, House of Carters is a sad look into the lives of people whose lives fall apart when a bad cocktail of white trash, stage parents, talented kids, and sudden cash flow mix together in the state of Florida to give you this.

Yes, it's terrible. Yes, it's sad. Yes, you can see them all 20 years from now being totally fucked up and destitute. But for now, they are living in a house in Beverly Hills, screaming at each other and spending their money like it grew on trees. I can watch that for thirteen episodes and not let it weigh on my conscience.

So What....

"So What" - that song that has gotten so much air play on the radio lately and has become my new office song, sure has stuck it out for the long haul. I love to sing it in the car, in the shower, while I'm standing at the copy machine at work, to myself at my desk, I even sing it in my sleep while I'm snoozing in the morning trying to get my ass out of bed.

My comadre pointed out very astutely that this song had to have been written for gelat (latina) women. I have to say that after thinking about it, she's got to be right. Could it be that this is our theme song for better or worse? Ay dios.

SO WHAT
Field Mob
feat. Ciara
[Jazze Pha]
Ladies and GENTLEMEN!
Jazze Pha, Field Mob, Ciara, Superstar DJ's
Here we go

[Chorus - Ciara]
They say - "He do a little this, he do a little that
He always in trouble," and I heard
"He's nuttin but a pimp, he's done a lot of chicks
He's always in the club," and they say
"He think he slick, he's got a lot of chips
He's sellin them drugs," and I heard
"He's been locked up, find somebody else
He ain't nuttin' but a thug"
So whaaaaaaaaat, so whaaaaaat
So whaaaaaat, so whaaaaat

[Shawn Jay]
And they say - I'm a slut, I'm a ho, I'm a freak
I got a different girl everyday of the week
You too smart you'd be a dummy to believe
That stuff that you heard that they say about me
They say that I'm THIS, they say that I'm THAT
But all of it's fiction, none of it's fact!
But you don't be hearin it about your lover
You let it go in one ear and out the other
Now he say, she say, they say, I heard
If they fake we can't let it get on our nerves
She miserable, she just want you to be
Like her, misery needs company
So don't listen to that vine of grapes - They're
Nuttin' but liars hatin, and I bet
They wouldn't mind tradin pla-ces
with you by my side in my Mercedes

[Chorus]

[Smoke]
Mo' Money, Mo' Problems, life of a legend
Haters throw salt like rice at a weddin
So what, that's your cousin, that don't mean nuthin
Her like missin is a type of affection
You get, you just blind to the facts
See the lies just as obvious as cries for attention
Yield to the blindness to apply your suspicion
But listen, say you love me, gotta trust me
Why you stress this high school mess?
Break up never, they just jealous!
Drama from your mother, mean mug from your brother
I'm that author of the book, they can judge from the cover
Yes - I been to jail
And yes - I'm grindin for real
I'm a positive talkin negative pimp
They hate to see you doin better than them, so!

[Chorus]

(Ladies and Gentlemen, Ciara)

[Ciara]
Some people don't like, it
'Cause you hang out in the street
But you my boy-friend
You've always been here for me
This love is serious
No matter what people think
I'm gon' be here for ya
and I don't care what they say
Some people don't like, it
'Cause you hang out in the street
But you my boy-friend
You've always been here for me
I love the thug in ya
No matter what people think
I'm gon' be here for ya
and I don't care what they say

[Field Mob ad-libs as song fades]

Tortilla Nation

I feel the need to educate people on a recent trend that has me very worried. I just saw a commercial yesterday for the new McDonalds $1 Chicken Snack Wrap. People eat in on the street, they eat it on the go, they eat it in the office, they eat it at home. It’s so convenient, that you can take it on the go and hold it in one hand because it’s neatly rapped in America’s new boyfriend – The Tortilla.

In this world of healthy wraps, nouveau fusion Mexican cuisine, late night drive ups and fast casual dining….it seems that tortillas are making a leap to the A-list. I’m proud of the tortilla. It’s getting its much needed moment in the spotlight. But like most things that hit the mainstream, America has begun to pimp out the tortilla so that it has begun to look like a shadow of its former self. It's being handled by mere mortals and it may be a danger to us all. Let me explain…..

When I was a little girl, every morning, Hermelinda, the lady who took care of my grandpa would make homemade tortillas and pan. She would put some scrumptious butter on my tortilla and roll it up for me to have with my café con leche. It was a delicious treat that was stunting my growth and packing on the early pounds, but I was four years old, what did I care? My torrid love affair with the tortilla had begun.

My grammy would often make me tortillas with peanut butter and jelly for an afternoon snack. She would grill the tort to an inch of its life so that it was nice and crispy and smear on the PB&J and I would have it with a bottle of Pepsi (because Mexican’s believe firmly in that Pepsi won the challenge and we also love to recycle glass). The most important part of this equation was the fact that the tortilla had to be very, very toasty.

In my early years, whenever I would try to take her to Taco Bell she would scoff. No way was she going to eat there. Their tortillas were RAW. When we would have brunch at Mexican restaurants, my grammy would send back many a tortilla at a restaurant because it wasn’t toasty enough. “Like a cracker!” she would say when she sent it back. I think her record for sending back the same set of tortillas was five times.

I finally asked my grandma one day why she was so insistent that the tortilla had to be so crispy. “It’s better that way, and besides, if it’s raw, you’ll get worms!” Whaaaaaa-waaa-waaaa-WORMS? I was gonna get worms? Like my dog? Like they were gonna eat me from the inside out and squirm in my body? Oh my God, how many soft tacos had I eaten in my lifetime? How many Big Beef Burritos would it take for a colony of worms to grow in my belly? I was going to die. At the tender age of eight, I knew that it was all over. I was a mere vessel for parasitic colonization.

I ran home and told my mom that I was gonna die. She said that it probably hadn’t done that much damage. “So it’s true?” I asked. “Better to err on the side of caution,” she replied cryptically. From that day on, I never, ever, ever ate a raw tortilla again. Not steamed, not warmed. I needed those bitches grilled to an inch of their life. I even sent them back a few times.

Now in my lifetime, my grammy also told me that if I ate chile seeds that the seed would go in my appendix and I would die. She also told me that eating Vicks was good for me. My grammy knew lots of stuff, so I ain’t trying to question her wisdom.

Today, I would like you to ask yourself the following questions. Does it really seem like a good idea to eat raw dough? Do issues of salmonella and yeast raise a caution flag for you? Do raw eggs scare you? Then I would think that eating a tempe wrap in a raw tortilla (no matter how sun-dried tomatoed that shit is), a steamed burrito, or a microwaved quesadilla might be a little suspect.

Let this be a cautionary lesson for you all. Don’t be fooled by whitey’s attempt to appropriate our foods. They don’t know what they are getting themselves into and I strongly question their ability to handle such things. Tortillas are to be handled with care, cooked on a comal, sarten or directly on your gas stove. There is no other alternative. If a live flame has not touched your tortilla, you may be in grave danger. Assure yourself good health and a long life. Cook your tortillas. You might have to send that shit back five times, but at least you won’t have to have your appendix taken out because of a damn chile seed or have worms eat your insides out.