Starbucks in Buenos Aires: yes, it’s official

Gladys, remember how I couldn’t or wouldn’t shut up about my addiction to Starbucks’ $11.50 venti macchiato lattés served with extra foam, whiskey, and the pubic hair of an unborn pony? Well, Starbucks just opened its first location in Buenos Aires last week.

The smallest latté you can get costs ten pesos, which, for people making pesos, is the equivalent of ten dollars. (People here make like 30,000 pesos a year.) And you know what? These people have been lined up for hours and hours since it opened. You literally have to wait in line for one hour to get your ‘Cybil Special,’ as the baristas in Jersey City called it, my special blend of java beans and illicit hair.

Yes, Gladys, we are all screwed.

Sufjan Stevens

Let’s face it, ladies: we could do a lot worse.

Hip Americans living in Buenos Aires deserve better!!

Dare I even tell you, Lois, how this country of maids and old people speaking Mexican treats tourists sometimes?? We give them puppies and love, and they give us puppies, love, and stencil art depicting impromptu anal sex! It’s outrageous!!

It’s almost enough to make me want to put my super-chic $450,000 penthouse in Palermo back on the market! But of course, we all know I’m not going to anytime soon. I mean, where else can I hire college-educated Mexicans to raise my kids for $4 a day!?! God bless countries that have done the unthinkable–screwed up more than the United States so that the dollar is still worth something!

They could at least give us some protection on the sign! Though it’s more likely the world will end before we get what we really need: protection from ourselves.

Olympic torch in Buenos Aires!

Gladys! It was on water–the fire was on the water! You should have seen it.
Photo credit: some dude with a camera.

If there’s one thing this country can do right, it’s fire. They’re still messing up on making the Mai Tais just the way I like, and their way of speaking Mexican ain’t nothing like that J-Lo album. (And if anyone would know how to speak Mexican, it would be her!!!) So there’s obviously some sort of illiteracy epidemic going around. Also: poverty.

Personally, I don’t know about you, but when I’m in a place for an extended period of time and on “vacation,” I don’t want to think twice about the “realities” of the “world.” I just want to eat Cheetos and get my nails done. Luckily for the country, the dollar still buys you a thing or two here… if not, with all of these poor people yapping about inflation, I’d just have to leave! I mean, tourists are like gods: they descend upon countries, sprinkling money like confetti. They’re not taking up lots of jobs. And if you’ll just look at how many people were gainfully employed during the Olympic torch relay, when it did what the kids call “hitting the streets,” you’ll see that there are plenty of jobs to go around here.

Photo credit: dude with a camera.

And then later, when I went home, I found a nice, juicy Latin man in my bathroom!!!!! And they say people who do good to the world are the only ones who get good shit outta life? Ha!

Do I seriously need to tell you yet again that life is good? If you don’t believe me, just check in your bathroom. If it’s anything like mine, there’ll be a Latin man inside–and the “Olympic torch” will find time to “make a delivery” to your “neck of the woods.” Afterwards, you will both “have flan” and possibly “empanadas” and find time to listen to music. And life will rock on.

Forget her camera? Miss Cybil did that!

Kids, take note: Miss Cybil does not forget things. True, she may forget the occasional holiday, birthday, or that time she “was supposed to pick her son up after surgery” (always with the club foot, Sal!), but generally speaking, her mouth is like a cave. Her brain’s like a trap door. Or something.

At least, she doesn’t forget her camera. But there are times when she just can’t take a photo, per se. And some times, these are the best times. Like the last week. I can’t show you a photo of:

1. The taste of eating an empanada after having an affair with a priest. (Hey, he wanted it!)

2. The cool lashing of a breeze off of a lakeside…. somewhere.

3. The joy of playing bingo on the bus while sitting next to a lady who just may want the first prize (a bottle of Vino) almost as much as you. And the ensuing attempt to have the winner disqualified, because let’s face it, did he really look older than 15? I don’t think so.

4. Patagonian sunsets that seem to last all day, stretch further than the horizon itself, and introduce a new color each day.

5. Seeing The Bourne Ultimatum on the big screen, with not one but two kids from Boston!

6. Taking a cab ride around the city at night. Just for the hell of it.

7. Finding a new apartment! Okay, I’m lying, I did take a photo of my little outdoor area:

Not shown: a really hot, shirtless guy who was right around the corner, ready to give me “breakfast in bed.” Hey–I’m divorced, Jimmy, give me a break. And you know what? I do pilates. Granted, not as much since I’ve fallen in love with the empanada stand nearby, but enough so that I deserve a little breakfast in bed, you know what I mean? Photo credit: Cybil Blaine.

P.S. What I’m trying to say is that I was unk-dray for about a week and am only now coming out of what my landlady so lovingly referred to as an “American coma.” God bless those Mexicans!