Category — Mexico

Hello my peeps, it’s been a while. I’ve been meaning to check-in and write more but lately I’ve been a little social butterfly. Even when I’m home, I don’t get around to writing because I’m too busy relaxing on my hammock and enjoying being alive. If I get too pensive, my mind tends to steer into a vicious path of complex contemplations about EVERYTHING. I never really took the time to understand how exhausting that could be. If your mind is on overdrive expect your behavior to reflect the consequences sooner or later. Well, I waited well beyond later. Thankfully I have a high self-esteem and am fully equipped with a long history of perseverance through un chingo de adverse moments in my life. That is how the Payazaro you now know came to be. You can either get lost in serious mode, or you can step back and slap that reality silly! Conclusion: the slap is underrated

Just over a week ago my grandmother’s house caught on fire. It would have “burned down” but fortunately the houses in Mexico are made of brick as opposed to wood. Nevertheless, everything inside of it was  either ashes or completely destroyed. My grandma is fine and I made sure to transport myself on over to lift her spirit the only way Payazaro knows how–Laughter. I’m glad my mother inherited her sense of humor. Even though my grandma was devastated, it didn’t prevent her and the fam from cracking jokes about the fire. I’m all for it as long as it doesn’t make ‘Super Chencha’ laugh. Who is Super Chencha? Meet my archrival:

Coincidentally, I am her nemesis. And for that reason I was inspired to make my very first short video ever. It accurately captured an online encounter/battle via Skype.

Obviously I owned her in this video. Total domination on my part. It wasn’t quite Hollywood but at least the “bad guy” eventually ended up in hell. That is a victory for all. Síganme los buenos!

I will admit it, I have gone off the deep end. Though I mean this figuratively, I can’t help but imagine myself standing at the edge of a diving board at an Olympic sized pool. Before I could even finish mentally preparing to dive in head first, I was already swimming half-way down to touch the bottom of the pool. Why? Somehow I felt that if I succeeded in doing this, life would make more sense. They say curiosity killed the cat, but not this cat. I touched the base of this pool and am swimming back up to catch my breath. I can see the sunlight bright above the water shattering like broken pieces of mirror reflecting and shining blinding light into my eyes. Though my heart beats a mile per second, I have no fear. I’m anxious to make it all the way to the top to relish in my accomplishment. Maybe this is the feeling people get when they run a marathon, except it took me almost 4 years to finish. Time is relative and only a small detail in an experience of a lifetime.

They say that every answer you find leads to more questions. Unfortunately the answers to those new questions require diving back into a bigger and deeper pool. Fuck the new questions for now, it’s time to enjoy the newly acquired answers…

I once heard that the harder we try to conceal something from people, the more obvious it becomes. I generally agree with that statement and to see it in myself and in other people is actually quite comical. We become extremely self-conscious of that “thing” and it slowly turns into an obsession that can consume our mind if we let it. Oh, and if anybody catches on and touches that sensitive subject, we will lash out in denial or simply pinpoint that person’s insecurity or “thing” that is eating at them and expose it like a bag of ice in the desert.

I have a cousin who is lesbian. Her sexuality is not funny and therefore not the purpose of this blog post. What is comical, however, is how obvious her sexuality is in her lifestyle and yet, she refuses to “come out” because she doesn’t want anyone to know. Denial to the 10th degree. No boyfriends in the last few years, she’s lived with a female housemate  (girlfriend) for many years, the whole family talks about it behind her back, and lastly, her partner confided in me about their dilemma of being publicly lesbian. That pretty much settles it.

I’ve never touched this subject with her because it really shouldn’t matter. I extend my support like I would with any other family member and I’m a little extra empathetic to her ordeal. I’m not gonna lie though, it does change the way I perceive her attentive eyes on MY girlfriend. I’m not worried, but I certainly wouldn’t let them go to the bathroom together.

From a very young age, I can remember my mom teaching me that I must always place toilet paper on the toilet seat before taking care of business. It is a golden rule that I take seriously even at my own house. I don’t care if it is a brand-new and straight out of the box toilet, my tussie must touch tissue first.

At my current employer, the men to women ratio is at least 20:1. So, the men’s restroom is always being trafficked. Like a fraternity, you quickly become less self-conscious about peeing side-by-side another co-worker in your own stall. Leave the toilet stalls available for those who really need it for more serious business.

Every once in a while though I can’t help but notice that oddity that is clearly breaking the man code and rules. Is there something I don’t know, or is there a movement for men to pee while sitting on the toilet? I don’t know if this is a Korean thing, but I have noticed it on several occasions at work. If they say they’re not, they are lying. Evidence #1: Your feet are supposed to face the wall, not stick out the stall door, which is clearly an indication that you’re sitting. Evidence #2: No toilet paper tearing sound before or after taking care of business which is hella nasty. I highly doubt you carry your own personal stash of toilet paper, pre-torn and ready for use. And Evidence #3: There’s no way you can take a dooky in 15 seconds or less. I timed you. No, I’m not sick, just a little more curious than most.

If you show up on time you will have more to lose than if you show up late like everyone else. The early bird does not get the worm, it gets the shaft. The stereotype about Mexicans (in Mexico) showing up late is true and I don’t mean that in a negative way. It is expected that people will show up late and so you follow suit. I understand that everyone else will be rushing in at the last minute so I look for ways to take advantage of that (not of them). One practical way: buying my bus ticket to travel out of the state ahead of time.

When the bus employee asked me to pick my seat by pointing at the computer screen, I couldn’t believe it, all of them were available. Positive reinforcement point for doing things early! I had to take a minute and consider all possibilities before picking my seat… I didn’t want to sit all the way in the back because that’s where the restrooms are and nobody likes the fragrance of fully digested chicharrones with salsa Valentina. Picking a seat in the front is just asking to die if there were ever a head-on collision. The middle is also dangerous if we are ever T-boned by another bus/vehicle/semi-truck. Forget the chicharron stench, I’m sitting a few seats in front of the middle section. All of this went through my mind in like 2 seconds. Then came the best part, “would you like window or aisle seat?” Window all the way baby! Never underestimate the power of a window seat. You have the power to let sunlight in or to cover it up with the curtains and you can lean against the window for better neck and head support that an aisle seat will never provide.

When it was time to gather my things and depart to the bus station, I realized I was running late. Then I really “LOL’d” because I quickly remembered I was in Mexico and would most likely be the first passenger to arrive. Nel pastel! To my surprise, when I got on the bus it was almost full. I get to my seat and there was an adult body passed out resting its big elk-head against the window where my head should have been. Just because I saw earrings on this head and long hair didn’t mean it was a woman. In Manzanillo we get all kinds of people trafficking through. But apparently buying my ticket before everyone on this bus really didn’t make a difference to this nappy headed body lounging on my spot! Oh hell no. Time to play the party pooper. Am I an asshole now for waking her up? I just gave her the cara de fuchi and kindly let her know that she needs to get her eyes checked because EVERYBODY gets to see the computer screen with the exact seat they’re buying. Oh yea, I proved it.

I like how people get in fights in front of my house like it’s nothing [insert sarcasm stare]. Can’t you see I’m chillin’ and watching a movie?! But no, now I feel the strong desire to be a chismoso like everybody else. I can’t even peek my head out the window because society urged us to place bars throughout our windows in order to make it harder for thieves to break in. I see the police lights hitting all of my walls so this incident must be good. It leaves me no choice but to step out from my front door in my John Stockton-like shorts. Besides, it’s too hot and I keep it real.

I hear some scuffling and drunk jibberish. The cops then bust out their handcuffs and arrest the two dudes. In Mexico there is no “either/or”–all men are lovers AND fighters. I wonder if the cops feel like the Ghostbusters the moment they hear the last handcuff clicks around the perpetrators’ wrists. Two less pendejos disturbing the peace. These cops definitely feel accomplished or else they wouldn’t have that cocky grin on their face. Well done officers, well done…

If you don’t think body language is important, consider yourself a fool. What comes out of your mouth may be dismissed and your intentions will not matter, but your demonic gaze and dragon nostrils will be felt.

Last night during a city league basketball game, a dude from the opposing team was challenging a call that he believed was unfairly whistled against him. The league referees can be like the gestapo and even though they won’t beat you over the head with a stick, they will quickly give you a flagrant foul or even kick you out of the game just for challenging their official call. Well, like the honey badger, this player did not give a fudge. He was so heated and his conviction was so strong you didn’t have to hear what he was saying in order to believe him or to be on his side.

All it took was one finger. I noticed that he didn’t do the halfway arm extension finger point. It is weak and flaccid. Instead, he fully extended his arm and pointed at the referee’s heart. I know, deep. His eyes pulled the trigger first and as soon I turned to look at the referee’s face, I knew it was over. The player’s conviction was so strong he made ME feel guilty. I almost felt like going up to the ref and saying “yo, I did foul him” even though I wasn’t even guarding him. I didn’t need to, the call was overturned.

Could this have been Mexican brujería? Maybe. What I do know is that it works. Try it. It is very powerful and will get people to listen. Even if it’s just pointing to your favorite cereal while your girlfriend stares at you like if you were a 5-year old. Girls do it all the time at the jewelry store when they’re with their boyfriends so it’s all good. Or, when you wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and point to the person responsible for the excitement, happiness and success in your life.

I thought dinosaurs were extinct. Apparently they’re alive and they’re thirsty for human blood. One snuck into my house and its chupacabra eyes glared at me before its obese frame plummeted onto my desk. I never thought I would see this but I actually saw a mosquito walk. It was so engorged with human blood that it could no longer fly.

It had an interesting skip to its step which for a second tricked me into perceiving it as cute. It was enough to buy this dinosaur a few more seconds of life. I would have smashed its brains out on the spot but this mosquito required a tarp and several towels. I didn’t want my house looking like a murder scene! I flicked it off my desk with my finger and I watched it fall to the ground in slow motion like in the movie “300” when that Spartan kicked the Persian dude down the pit. Not gonna lie, it was kind of badass. Especially after yelling “This. Is. My House!” Shut up. It’s my blog sucka fish.

If you’re a girl and you have manly hands, there is no need to panic. You probably have the manly feet to go along with those hands and that’s OK. You can keep your feet unexposed with cute girly shoes even during a hellish summer, but you will look pretty ridiculous walking around with sweaty gloves all day just because you tried to hide your manly hands. Major Fail. But there is hope…

Bring attention to the nails and away from the entire hands. If your palms are calloused and rough, never wave at someone with your palm facing outwards. Just raise your fist and extend your arm up like a revolutionary. You might leave the person you are saluting confused, but everyone always responds by raising their own fist into the air to fight the struggle and promote unity. If they don’t, eliminate them from your life. Anybody against solidarity can never be your friend.

Now back to your manly hands. Even if they’re fuzzy, pudgy, veiny or discolored, as long as you have fingers you’re good. On those fingers are finger nails and you will want to decorate, paint, file, whatever it takes to distract curious eyes from focusing on your Shrek hands. The moment you see people’s eyes focusing on your entire hands, do the craziest finger kicks known to man. It will bring their attention back to where it needs to be. Even if you’re an amputee survivor, I’ve seen some pretty ballin’ prosthetic hands. Let’s be optimistic and look at the advantages people! Even if you only have one finger, as long as there is a fingernail, rock it to the fullest!

Some women consider their manly hands a disease. I think they’re right. That must be why they call it a “man”icure. Food for thought…

It’s been a while since I’ve been at home in the morning more than two days in a row. This Mexico Independence 3-day holiday weekend was very refreshing and very much needed. Even though I did sleep in, I was still up relatively early. The sun was barely rising, the birds were chirping, butterflies were hanging out in my small front yard, and I opened all the windows just to let the morning fresh breeze vent my entire house. I felt like Cinderella without the fugly step-sisters.

Then I remembered why I used to think twice about opening all the house windows. My house is on the corner so there are pedestrians constantly trafficking the front and side of my house. Half of those pedestrians are vendors looking to sell EVERYTHING. Just in this weekend alone I had offers of: beer, clothes, fruits, furniture, bread, Virgin Mary ornaments, honey, pillows, fans, electronics, pots, vegetables, fish, smerfs, gypsy palm readings, but unfortunately no human kidney.

If you ever decide to relocate to Mexico and find yourself in an empty house, there’s no need to worry. Just stand at your front door with your checklist and wallet because the businesses come to you in Mexico.