Viva...

Hola, mis bonitos!  I just wanted to write a quick post to let everyone that I'm alive.  Vegas has been trying it's best to kill my liver, but not even Vegas is strong enough to knock a Mango down.  I'll write more details on Strobie's 40th birthday weekend once I get back home to DC.  Besos.

Mon Dieu! Quelle Horreur!

Well...This is embarrassing.  

I can't believe that the last time I posted was almost a year ago.  And to add insult to injury, as you can see below, that old post was about how exciting it was to have The Jayhawk post something for the first time and help us go live again.  I've got to be better about this.  I'll start today.  

Although...I do have my monthly EUM (El Último Miércoles) happy ho' tonight, and beers (and pork belly bites) will be had at Lost Society, so today may not be the best day to recommit myself to this blog project thing.  Maybe tomorrow.  If I'm not too busy and/or over hung, of course.  Then comes Friday, and Fridays aren't meant for sharing thoughts with the Interwebs to maybe be read or not.  They're either for being out with friends (who may or may not read the thoughts you've shared on the 'Net) or chillin' at home watching Spanish celebrity gossip talk shows (no more über-dream Jaime Cantizano to look at, though, since DEC got the axe*; now I have to settle for crack ho' Belén Esteban on Sálvame*, and that, friends, is a bum deal).  So, Friday's shot.  And let's not even talk about Halloween Party Saturday and how I will be too busy resting on Sunday to be fresh and new on Monday.

You see how bad I am at this?  It's exasperating.

(*Websites en español)

Je Suis Cansei

De ser awake. Where did we go? Oh, yeah. Ulah + Garden District + Polly's + Eatonville. Which I have thoughts on, but those are left for later. Para tomorrow, mis bonitos. That's what holidaze are for.

A Comer, A Comer, A Comer, O Si

Where to, who can know? What is known is that it has to be nice and greazzy because this little Rican may have gone out last night sans dinner with a boy from Dallas (Shatterproof), a Frenchuvian (Migs), a kid from NY (Billy), a Jayhawk, the Claire Bear, and a girl from either Spain or Cuba or wherever her abuela told her she was from. Good times.

Eye See, You See...

Picture it: 1420 Clifton St., NW. 6:30ayem. Woke up just fine to turn off the alarm. Ten minutes turned into fifty when the Jayhawk nudged me. And then the mad dash starts. Pick outfit (cute yet sensible for the big chill outside), iron, shower, listen to report on the radio about the Sri Lankan cricketers getting shot in Pakistan, shave, brush teeth, confirm weather report, get dressed, do hair, stuff bag, what the hellz is this about Obama speaking differently to blacks v. whites (?!...effin' Politico), throw on scarf/coat/bag over my shoulder, where's my Metrocard (?), grab keys, turn on iPod, adios sleeping Jamie, out the door, avoid getting hit by traffic while walking on the street to the bus stop because the sidewalk's iced over, get on the bus, really wanting a bowl of Cream of Wheat. All in less than an hour. It's happened twice in just as many days. I really need an alarm clock that will keep trying to wake me without annoying the Jayhawk. Maybe one with disturbing googly eyes that keep staring at me impatiently will work. If only he were for sale...