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!?)
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!!
There are many things people tell you that you should and shouldn’t do with limited time. If you’re an expat like I am, you want to live like a vacation and do it all. And although you can’t, the fact is that you should never give up doing what you love.
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 methso 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.
Hey, all of you chic kids! I know I’ve been away for a bit, but… well, what can I say? Sometimes, I miss America. For one, the delicacies are recognizable, the palates are well-formed, even amongst the local youth.
Photo credit: a sick bastard who let someone else force-feed this helpless kid into oblivion.
I mean, a culture that knows the meaning of the words patience, tolerance, and moderation has a lot to teach, and give, the world at large. And I’m just not getting this sort of lesson in Argentina.
A “friend” of mine recently came out with a book. And finally, a reviewer got it right. It was like PJ O’Rourke knew the kid! Or some kid. Maybe even this one:
Sometimes, it’s good to get away every now and then!
Especially if the New Jersey Department of Child Welfare is hounding your ass. Or when, upon your return, you end up in some hobbit hole in Uruguay with your mother.
Or, perhaps, if it’s because you’ve been spending lots of time with a hottie.
Alas, hotties aren’t everything. (You heard Miss Cybil right!) So more, soon… I swear, Gladys! Don’t you just hate these cliffhangers!?!?!?
