19 September 2010

more vexing VOX

I'm running out of things to write about, so here are some of my posts when I was blogging on vox because why come up with anything original when I can re-hash my old shit?:


(post title)
With restaurant butter packets in the back of a slow cab

I'm back.

My hiatus was full of lemon Popsicles and enough rude, blatant, homosexuality to make you say "Dear God! It CAN'T be wet! Is that even a hole?! Stop your shaking Betty!" I brought everybody back snowglobes and argyle leg warmers (disperse them as you like).

If you posted a 'goodbye' comment below, you get a gold star next to your name and a field trip to an all-you-can-eat ice cream cake factory in beautiful Pasadena, if you didn't, you get a sad face next to yours and a field trip to watch hot tar being put on a roof in gang-ridden Panorama City.


I'm thinking of putting my blog to "neighborhood only."



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Synchronicity or is that you Mary?

Psychiatrist Carl Jung tells a story that happened to him one April. He just had fish for lunch, and someone mentioned the custom of making an "April fish" (old lingo for an April fools joke). In the afternoon a patient showed him pictures of fish which she had painted. In the evening he was shown a piece of embroidery with fish-like monsters on it, coincidence? Jung didn't think so, he called it "acausal connecting principle," or "meaningful coincidence." He and others took note of odd coincidences that seem to take place outside the scope of mere chance, like some "Cosmic Joker" was at work. Ever since I learned about synchronicity two years ago it's like something clicked, coincidences started happening to me in 3's. Like one Saturday I'm watching a documentary on the History Channel about people seeing apparitions of the Virgin Mary called "Visions of Mary." Half way through it I check the channel guide on my TV and notice the Cameron Diaz movie "There's something about Mary." I say to myself "O.K. lets do this one more time," a few minutes later I pick up a book called "The 60 Greatest Conspiracies of All Time" to read a chapter on how Jim Morrison might have faked his own death. In the first paragraph is the strange line "...the Virgin Mary's fondness for making appearances on Tortillas." It's like once I came to the recognition of this cosmic trickster, it stopped hiding and started to play with me. Russ has a thing with the numbers 444. He started to see them everywhere. On license plates, store windows, just as he's looking at a clock. It became so frequent, he stopped mentioning it to me. I looked it up and found out people seeing 444 (11:11 is a big one) is common and they can't explain it themselves.
I personally don't have an explanation for it, but I find it improbable God has nothing better else to do but trying new ways of making us say "Boy, that was weird..."



(post title)
No title

Russ's mom had the nerve to ask me how to prepare ancho chilies. I should have said "Listen carefully Gringa, Sitting at my mamacita's knee in our pueblo I learned many a wise Aztec custom, plucking a goat in twenty seconds flat, making nachos cheese sauce for 7-Elevens, and making these for white tourists with bad taste, but the secret of the mighty ancho was only know to Montezuma, I can not help you there."

I swear that woman drives me to distraction.



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tail

People make a blog for their cat/dog and then write posts like it's the animal talking and posting. That is sooo weird to me. I want to go write in their comments section; "Your owner would look nice and red on the end of a big sharp stick" or "I'm into animals and your making me hard, want me to walk your hot, nasty, ass?" And see what Fido says back.



(post title)
thick uncut churro

I wonder if when people see my vox screen name, they don’t click on my blog because they think it’s going to be in Spanish talking about my 8 kids (Pepito, Pestoso, Pepita, Perito, Pepe, Pepe 2, Pendejo, and Sam) and how my Latina wife Selucina makes the best sweet corn tamales in aaaaaall of Mehico.





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Don't let the door hit your ass

Sunday night I posted on my "Foodie" group asking (pleading, check it out yourself if you don't believe me) for a stuffed baked potato recipe for a charity event I volunteered for this Friday (tomorrow). I didn't get one comment, not even a "Your on your own on this one baby." This one girl (obvious the leader of the gang) got 11 comments about Loukoumades. How do you even pronounce Loukoumades? and who are these 11 people who have such a strong oppinion about it? 7 comments about the tastiness of veal (tortured baby calves only eaten by unfeeling pricks), 8 comments on baby lasagna (as compared to adult lasagna), and 9 comments in a post completely in Chinese with a picture of a hamburger cupcake.

I didn't know the cooking gurus of the world were such a tight knit clique. I'm going to see my "Foodie" group like I see someone eating fugu liver, gone.


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Twila Thorpe

I got rid of my blog neighbor city lights. I resigned myself to her not cumming back. I send her off into the world like a Chinese lantern boat on the water (I'de like to think her plane she was flying over the Atlantic Ocean, ala her fellow lesbian Amelia Earheart, crash landed on an island of hula girls who made her their bush-eating queen).



(post title, final post on vox)
Skyp and Torn


O.K. So maybe starting two businesses in this economic depression wasn't the greatest idea. Russ's "Nude Groom" ice sculptures for weddings and bus tours of Los Angeles apartment ceilings should have been hits.


I see some of my neighbors are having a tough time of things, I'm sorry. Even though I am not going to be a constant on vox, I can still get your e-mails in case you need me to save you from a burning building or if you need someone to talk you out of jumping to your death from a bathroom window once you squeeze through.


I've taken up boxing at this place with a personal trainer, fun times. So anyway my sweets, I sure do love you guys and I'll be around on cold nights wherever lipstick lesbians congregate outside of clubs to have a smoke.



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