Hypocracy Thy name is Gosselin

Today Jon Gosselin says he wants a 9 to 5 job and to be left alone to cry in his Ed Hardy handkerchiefs. Well you know what Jon Gosselin, you should have thought about that when you let your wife convince you to have eight kids. You couldn't keep it from squirting from your pants to the petri dish. I ain't got no love fo'yo ass.

But not to be entirely hypocritical here, I can't stand Kate either. I mean the woman got two healthy, if not demonic twins, Mady and Cara. But noooooo, she wanted more. So she bitched and whined and soon she was on "six months of bed rest" (you asked for it) in order to deliver her liter of six little puppies.

The Gosselins put up a good front for a while. I mean they were getting everything for free right? Would you be complaining? Yeah, me neither. If you asked me to do the dog and pony show for a trip to Disneyland I would ask you if you wanted me to be the dog, the pony or both. Hell if you wanted me to fuck them, I probably would. Needless to say, the Gosselins, who were once living on public assistance were now living the life.

The thing that makes me crazy about the Gosselins is this - here is a couple who made the arguably, foolhardy decision to have eight children without the means to support them. Then TLC stepped in and gave them the cash they needed to raise these little monkeys. BUT THEN, they started to get all holier than thou on us! Suddenly, the Gosselins were ORGANIC, they were GREEN, they RECYCLED, they had yard sales for CHARITY. They went to Kmart to by toys for NEEDY CHILDREN WITH CANCER. Kate Gosselin wrote books about what it was to be a good parent, you know, because she is a better mother than anyone out there. Her book was a best seller and women flocked to their local Barnes & Nobel to hear Kate's wisdom. The Gosselins believed they were better than us and we believed it too.

But everything comes with a price. You have cameras in your home. The public becomes interested. And then it all goes to hell. The irony of it all is that now we are all glued to the unraveling. This week Kate talked to people, last week Jon talked to Life & Style. The week before his girlfriend talked to US. Then the other girlfriend talked to OK!. I'm waiting for the kids to give an exclusive to Highlights.

In the end, I'm glad I can't afford organic, recycled toys to give to kids with cancer because then I might have to talk to US Weekly about it too. So Gosselins, we have your number. You're not perfect. We watched you pretend, now we'll watch you deny the truth. I guess that's what makes good tv.

Scared OU

I've been dog sitting this week and I came to a realization this morning. My preppy white dog isn't used to the Mexican disciplinarian in me.

On an average day Maddie acts out, throws fits when I try and take her on the sand at the beach, goes through the garbage and the other morning she took a big caca in the living room. I'm convinced that this was all just to piss me the fuck off. She's like a child with zero fear of anyone or anything - like little kids whose parents give them a timeout.

But, let me tell you something, don't give timeouts. My mother didn't give timeouts. My welita didn't give timeouts. Time outs are for wimps! I was scared as shit of my mama and her chanclas. I still am. She only recently ridded her house of wire hangers because her children are now up and grown. She said she keeps one on reserve in case we act out. This was a woman with rules and I followed them to a T.

1. When I say now, I mean now.
2. If you ruin my Sunday and I am full of coraje at church, you are going to pay cabronsitos.
3. When I say leave your door open while you clean your room, I mean leave it open or I will kick it in.
4. We don't need a maid, that's why we had children.
5. All tasks are multi-tasks! If you are watching TV, you could be folding clothes or dusting at the same time.
6. God is watching you and waiting to strike you down.
7. When in doubt, Que dira la gente?
8. Life isn't about being happy, it's about who suffers the most and survives to tell the story.
9. Words don't leave welts like chanclas.
10. If you ever bring this up as an adult, I'll deny that it ever happened.

All of this made me come to a reassuring realization this morning. I have the Mean Mexican Mama gene (M3) too. It's like this dog flipped a switch in me. My face gets all squished and concentrated. My eyeballs squint. I stomp around with purpose and minus a few hijo de la chingadas, I'm straight up my moms yo! If I could have made her pair calcetines for 4 hours and mopped the floor on her hands and knees, I would have. If she could wash dishes herself why use the dish washer? Maddie is in my boot camp. She is hella scared of me yo and I like it that way.

I am going to break her the way I will break my children. And you know what? She is going to be all the better for it. Look how firme I turned out. I am finnnnne. I worried that I would buy my kids Cocoa Pebbles, let them play on Saturdays instead of clean, give them timeouts and not spank them. I am relieved to know that I will not wimp out. I will not give in. They will fear me and they will love me for it later.

Game on.

Japon-esa

The other night in one of my 'bouts of lotion induced tv watching, I noticed that La MTV was actually showing videos for the realz. I mean for realz, for realz. I thought I was hallucinating or something. But sure enough the next day, I realized I had tivoed that shit. Probably cause I was bien emesmerized by this:



I mean this is some hella Danny Zuko, Japones, Chola sniffing AquaNet insanity. It's crazy good and I can't get it out of my head/boy your lovin' is all I think about/I just can't get you out of my head/boy, it's more than I care to think about.

Anywayz, check out those gueritos who sing it Peter Bjorn and John. Bien, Silverlake que no? But the drum and base es bien firme.

I used the intertubes to get my learn on and do an investegacion about the greasers. They are the primos of the zoot suiters after all. Seems as if they are part of a rockabilly movement in Japon. They go to the bien famous Yoyogi Park in Toky-jo to do their folklorico japon-americano on the weekends and the peoples they wachela.

Zip It!

I have something really important to talk about. Zippers. The pants I’m wearing today have zippers everywhere and I think that I am having a bad reaction to said zippers. See when I touch these zippers, my hands smell like they are straight out of Terminator 2. It’s like I’m getting metal and or mercury poisoning from my esexy eski pantalones. My hands smell like metal, I taste metal. I know how the Pivs feels now. He probably had to leave “Speed the Plow” because he had zippery pants that poisoned his stout little body. I’m thinking that I might have to become Amish. Because seriously, this is not the only clothing item that does this to me. All of my hoodies, all of my jackets, all of my pants’ zippers hate me. They are making me a pariah and I don’t appreciate it one bit you little fuckers.