My country isn’t racist! Just look at our president

Hey Lois!!!
Can you believe it? So I was watching the fútbol game the other day with Ricardo, my latest Latin Lover, and some dipshit bartender accidentally changed the channel for a second. Apparently, the U.S. just elected a new president–and he’s black!!!

Did I mention that hot black guys in the Oval Office make me hot for democracy?

So, you know how whenever people have a black friend, they use that as a ‘I am not racist!’ get out of jail free card? You almost wonder if the whole country is going to do something like that. But you know what? Whatever. He’s easy on the eyes. (I have no idea what he was saying because, when he started speaking, Ricardo’s Mexican maid showed up and brought her damn kids, who he kept calling ‘mis hijos! mis queridos!’ Who knows what that means!?)

I don’t know much about this guy except for two things: One, he reminds me that there aren’t many black guys in Buenos Aires, and Miss Cybil likes a little chocolate on, well, everything.

Two: Even though I didn’t vote and had no idea that there was an election going on, it’s nice that I finally have this proof that I’m not racist! I mean, how can I be–my president is black!!

Buenos Aires on the cheap!

Lois! After a few months in this “Argentina” place, I think I finally have a few good recommendations for when you and Stan finally get your ass down here.

1. Buy fewer things. I know this sounds dumb, but it’s true! For example, instead of just buying your plasma TV down here, you can bring it down! Apparently, some of the ‘taxes’ for outside things are a little high. I think it might have something with gas prices and pay for pilots.
Photo credit: a group of angels.

So a PowerBook will set you back $6,000 pesos! Which is $2,000!! (And apparently if you’re making pesos, it feels like $6,000. Go figure.)

2. Ignore the real price what you’re really paying. Just focus on that whole ‘I can divide by three!’ bit and you’ll be okay. Just keep telling yourself: it’s a third cheaper than in the states! Don’t look at the 11 peso price tag on your brick of mozzarella. Actually paying attention to the shocking inflation–and imagining what your life would be like if you made pesos–isn’t going to help anyone. I mean, what you can do?

3. Stay with a new friend! Making new friends online is also a great way to ensure that the party never stops.

An example of how the party can keep going, ad infinitum. Photo credit: God.

4. Make your money in a currency that’s not pesos.

5. Stay home. Have someone read this to you, and close your eyes. Envision a mythical place inhabited by Borges where everyone dances tango, maté, and malbec called “Buenos Aires.” People are good looking, and the water goes down the other way when you flush the toilet. I think it’s counterclockwise. July is actually summer. Open your eyes.

Cheap way to travel, eh??

Any time of the day is a good time for wine!

Miss Cybil’s a little behind in her blogging–but she’s not a little behind in her drinking!

Two motherfuckers got in my way right as I snapped this bad-ass picture. Photo credit: someone with a camera.

To combat the existential dread that inevitably comes with feeling that your life is spiraling out of control, Miss Cybil has a few things that make her feel better.

1.) Comparing herself to others.

2.) Comparing herself to others.
Dr Steve Brule Wine Tasting on FunnyOrDie.com

3.) Going to Mendoza! (See above.)

4.) Drinking! Or the beach! (Tie.)

5.) Having your boyfriend take you on vacation to Iguazú Falls!

Oh, those Mayans!

According to the Mayan calendar, today marks exactly five years until the end of the world. While I don’t particularly believe any of that, I do find it refreshing in an odd way.

Photo credit: me in 5 years, onboard a wicked-ass spaceship.

I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer, but I do enjoy the idea of only having five years left to live. It’s a wake-up call, right? And it makes me think of how I would live my life differently if that’s going down.

Miss Cybil would work harder, travel more, and be nicer. She might also take up meth so I wouldn’t have to sleep as much. So Jimmy, what I’m saying is that Mayans have given us all a perfectly valid, possibly legal, excuse to do meth, and it would be awful to think otherwise.

Neighbors are neighbors

Gladys, listen up: I’m doing a bit of writing for work. Imagine that! Me, a reviewer! On account of my glamorous job writing for other sites, too, Miss Cybil has spent a lot of time in her apartment this week. And you want to know what?

Her upstairs neighbor works from home, too! As a music instructor! As a talentless, talentless music instructor! You’d think that hearing the acoustic version of Radiohead’s “Karma Police” would just be something you’d do in Portland, Ore. Maybe some post-apocalyptic hippy farm. But not Buenos Aires.

But that’s obviously bull crap. Because music is like a virus: it spreads, just like the clap, and even faster if it’s catchy. Unfortunately, you can’t say the same thing about talent. Because this half-assed no-good hack is on hour 12 of scales and butchering Radiohead today. But you know what, Gladys? No one can butcher my dear sweet Radiohead. No one!