Side Effects

This is gona go down in human history as one of the best inventions ever! No shit that they're right in what they say, about the side effects of eating beans, and why people don't eat them more often. I love beans, they're delicious, and there's no doubt that their nutritional value is very high, and that it's a very good frikking meal.

It reminds me of those times when I used to put in front of me a bowl the size of a truck driver's steering wheel filled with beans; and plantains, rice, aguacate, ground beef, chicharron, a little bit of salad on the side and a Coca-Cola to help all that feast go down my oesophagus; and I, armed only with a spoon (big fucking spoon) and my insatiable appetite will eat every single grain of rice and bean on the plate and then some more.

The obvious result was that after that I was confined to my room with the window open and the fan at full speed while, er, well, you know, letting all those beans go through my fit 5'7 body. These days I eat beans only at night or on the weekends when I don't have to torture my co-workers with the residual effects of a nice bowl of beans. And sometimes at my POE's cafeteria, there's this home made chilly that looks so fucking good that waters my mouth but that unfortunately is off limits.

But if this little invention is marketed, you can count me as one of the loyal followers of whatever brand brings it to a store near me. I know that you can always take some gas-x or some Alka-Seltzer to alleviate the so-called side effects. . . but that is just not the same.

Cuota de Manejo

If you would've asked me earlier last year, I would've answer "two". If the question would've been presented to me in January, I would've wrongly answered "two" -because the real answer was "one". And if you would've asked me today, right after I left my office building and while speeding towards my place and singing "She's got eyes of the bluest skies /As if they thought of rain I hate to look into those eyes / And see an ounce of pain ", my answer would've been "one, but not for long".

When I got home I found out that I'd forgotten to turn off the A/C as I do every morning -you know, just to save a buck or two- and my condo was nice and cool. But I was poised and my head was hot. I was a man on a mission, and even though I love to proscrastinate on every single thing out there, this shit had to be taken care of right away.


I called the toll free line for my former bank down in South America in order to cancel my credit card. Actually, that card had expired late last year and I hadn't even noticed it. My mom reminded me in an e-mail not long and I followed her instruction of sending the destroyed and expired plastic back to the land of my ancestors, the Mayas, as a first step in the cancellation process. After that, the next step was for me to call the toll free number and cancel it using my four-digit password and my ID number.

And before I go on, let me tell you that they don't call that region down the Rio Grande the third world in vain. . . there's a reason for it.

My bank charges a cuota de manejo every three months: a US$ 10 fee in order just to have the frikking card. I've been paying it because I'm a tool, there's no other explanation, and also because I wanted to keep those two cards just in case I had a an emergency one day -like being more than three weeks away from the *one* I deeply care for.

The thing is that one of my credit cards expired and I decided not to order a new one because that is just a waste of money. But Surprise-Surprise that when I called a couple of days ago to cancel it, they said that I couldn't do it because the credit card "had a balance". I grabbed the few red hairs I still have left in my head and yelled "someone stole my identity! I haven't used it in more than a year!". The lady at the other end of the line tried to calm me down by saying that no one had stolen anything, but that it was just the "cuota de manejo". Yeah right, tried to calm me down: I almost hit the roof!

After ten minutes going back and forth on how was it fucking possible for a bank to carge a "cuota de manejo" on a card that is good only as a bookmark, she confirmed to me that that's the way things are down there. Up until the moment when the owner of the card calls and with his four digit passwords access some decade old software, the credit card gets charged the so called "cuota de manejo".

I e-mailed my mother right after that call with precise instructions to pay that little amount and to confirm such transaction because the days when I was a happy customer of that financial institution were soon approaching the end of the road. This morning I got a confirmation of it and the first thing I did after stepping into my condo was to take a pee, of course, but the second one was to dial the toll free number and cancel that card once and for all.

As I said I still have one that is active, or should I say "had"? After the lady gave me a "first confirmation" of the transaction and told me that I still have to call back in 48 hours in order to get the "final confirmation", I asked her if there was any balance in my other credit card. When I heard "no, there isn't" my first animal instinct was to cancel it too right at that moment. Why wait for tomorrow? or for that matter until 07/07 when it officially expires? I could save myself $50 for not paying the "cuota de manejo" for the remaining life of the card and a sure headache when trying to cancel it right at the end ($10 x five more "cuotas de manejo" until 07/07=$50).
When asked very nicely the reason for my decision, instead of giving a whole thesis of why I was also canceling that other card and not requesting a new plastic in neither one, I just told them in plain and simple words about charging a "cuota de manejo" on an expired card. The girl on the other end of the line tried to tell something about the "great benefits" of being part of such financial institution, but I just repeated, very calmly, about charging a "cuota de manejo" on an expired card. I really think there's just nothing you can say or argue about such a crazy policy of that bank. Not to mention that on my previous two calls I'd spent a lot of energy and time trying to explain and make them realize how fucking criminal it is to do that.

A very simple match could've given the bank some extra income: waive that fee one time in one card and get five more "cuotas de manejo" on the other card, that I was not really planning in canceling. But if you hold to every single fucking penny you can squeeze out of your customers without leaving room for special situations like the one that happened to me, you end up losing money and customers. In my case it wasn't much, actually it was just a tiny little bit, "nothing!" you can even argue, and I completely agree, but those fuckers are not gona take my money no more!

Numero Dos for the Misinformed

I did some thinking today. . .

Yes, I thought about quite a few things in general and *one* in particular, but that's a whole different story. The thing is that when your girlfriend asks you whether you're going to ______ before or after going to the gym, and you two guys engage in a detailed analyzes of the pros and cons of doing it before or after a visit to the gym, you know that you've really hit a big prize in the lottery of relationships.

But not a big prize as in a so fucking BIG that needs two airplane seats to fit her rear; but more along the lines of a big prize that comes with a 24-inch waist and beautiful blue eyes.

In any case and in a whole different matter, after I hung up talking to her I thought about two of her friends that I'd previously met. I didn't think about K, her high school friend that lives in CLT, but about "Holly" and her blonde haired girl friend "D" [her name is actually Dolores, but most people call her either Dolly, or Lolita, like the book: Light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul. . . Lolita]. Pretty cool gals, I have to admit.

Ok but whatever; actually I thought about Holly and Dolores, and also about mi noviecita linda, and I end up taking a long afternoon nap after that. What a lazy bastard I am. My plans of heading to Panera, or going to the gym, or maybe stopping at B&N for a while, they all went to the trash can.

But unlike my plans that end up in the trash can, ______ end up being flushed down the toilet.

Café Olé

The bookstore I go to on Sunday mornings carries three drink sizes: small, medium and large; or to use their own words: tall, grande and venti. Fuck those fancy names, I always say small, medium or large when ordering and they always understand. Sometimes the barista will correct me saying something like "oh, you mean venti". . . whatever dude, just give me my frikking caffeine.

Yesterday was no exception to the rule and I ordered my usual small cafe au lait (pronounced as café olé). The dude behind the register asked me if I wanted to upgrade it to a "grande" for only twenty cents more, but I declined. "Small is more than enough" were my very own words.

Turned out that small wasn't really enough and I end up having to buy another small café olé in order to pump some more caffeine into my system and lift my spirit. I used the same cup though, and didn't ask for any discount because seriously, a few cents off in a Sunday coffee would really make it or break it? Any wise barista would've said that he'll give me whatever discount he considers appropiate, as all those coins were gona end in his tip jar anyway, but this guy didn't mention anything and the sole Nickel I got as change went straight to the bottom of his little jar. I'm sure he thought that I was a cheap bastard, because when I was a barista I used to think that of whoever gave me a nickel as a tip. But I learnt my lesson and I was very "customer service" oriented type of guy, giving lots of discounts.

And yes that little coffee shop went out of business; and no it wasn't due to all my discounts.

Arpa Restaurant

I had to go to the doctor few weeks ago in order to establish if my body (and my mental health by the way) was doing all right or not. Turned out to be that I'm a "healthy young man" and that that red flag I thought I was seeing was nothing more than a combination of stress and anxiety. Anyway, when I was sitting at his office we started talking about nothing in particular, chatting about this and that and I end up mentioning my previous trip to the Windy City. Turned out that my doctor grew up there and when I mentioned to him "Cafe Iberico" his eyes sparked and we end up talking more about tapas restaurants, than the reason for my visit that morning. My doctor is a cool dude.


I asked him if he knew of a good tapas restaurant in town, because he seemed like a big fan of them, and he mentioned a place called "Arpa". But instead of recommend it to me, he warned me to stay away from it as if it was unprotected and casual sex, or lots of sun, or cigarettes and fatty foods. We talked about Cafe Iberico up in CHI, that he knows very well, and how shitty, overpriced, and crappy this other Arpa restaurant is.

Not long after that chat with my doctor, *the one* descended from an staircase at Charlotte's Douglas International Airport and into my arms. With a big smile, sparks in my eyes, and my heart bits out of control I received her with several picos and a brand new pair of tweezers. While passing cars on the interstate on our way to Charlotte's uptown later that day, I mentioned to her a tapas restaurant called "Arpa" and that we could give it a try later that week. Didn't mention anything to her about my doctor's comments of the aforementioned establishment because I wanted her to judge for herself and to give me her opinion (besides being a tea connoisseur, she's also a leading expert on tapas restaurants across the world).

The opportunity came few days later when we went to meet K, one of her childhood friends who lives in town. When we got there, K's unique long hair was waiting for us at the bar. What followed that night, was a combination of a great time witnessing two girls engaged in some of the most fun and interesting girly-girl talk; and some shitty overpriced food. But before I bored you to dead with my review of the food that end up on our table, let me elaborate a couple of ideas that I got from their conversation.

First of all, K must've thought that I'm a very quiet dude, and as a matter of fact I am kind of quiet, but not that quiet. I didn't do much talking and didn't even tried to, because even before we stepped into the restaurant I knew that that night was about them, not me. I knew that after not seeing each other like for five years or so, there was a lot of shit they wanted to catch up with and not even my story of when I was put behind bars for a week in a prison cell in Siberia would make them turn around to see me. That night was for them to talk about their life back in the days when they were going to school (high school) and what they've done and haven't in the last years. And I was eager to learn more about my blue-eyed girlfriend and her stories when she was young and restless.

And if the food on the table was as crappy as only an over priced restaurant can make it, the stories they narrated were a banquet to my ears. Those stories were actually more along the lines of those buffets were you can eat "all you can" and there's a combination of every single possible food known to an overweight human being. They talked about as many topics as two girly-girls with a couple of wine glasses in their heads could, ranging from hair products to past flames and their whereabouts. And as far as I remember, there was quite a few old flames in their lives.


That had me thinking, previous flames that is, and the feelings that it awakes in me. I've been able to identify and isolate two feelings whenever *the one* and I talk about that topic, and I was also able to identify those two same feelings when J and K were talking about their crushes on football players with sandy blonde hair. In one hand I feel jealous knowing and thinking that there was someone else in *the one's* life that kept her awake at night, someone else that was in her thoughts; feel jealous thinking that another man made her sweet heart bit faster than usual with a simple smile and a few words; and jealous and I always get this uneasy feeling thinking of their lips touching. For good or worse there's this Latino dude inside me, somewhere, that still feels the urge to feel that he's a big macho and that he should be the center of every possible past, present and future universe. A bunch of bullshit, I know, just like that restaurant branding itself as a tapas place.

But I also kill those thoughts with the hard fact that those dudes didn't know how to appreciate, treasure, and realize what a great girl Jenn is. Or maybe they did it in their own way, but at some point they let her go not knowing how very few girls like her there's still among us. They had their chance to grow to know her, to learn what is it that she likes and dislikes, what she loves and hates, what makes her happy and what doesn't; they had their chance to learn about her past and to create a present together filled with lots of memories and common situations; and even though some of them didn't have to catch a flight to go and see her, the truth is that she's worth trans-hemispheric flights when that situation applied.
At some point the less dumb among them would realize this facts and will kick themselves in the butt for their rampant stupidity and poor decisions; and if they have more than one brain cell alive they'll also realize that if they want to try a comeback they're up to a very fierce and steep competition.

All right, I got a bit sidetracked because what I really wanted to talk about was the restaurant and the food; so let me go ahead and move on.

I am not gona go through the whole menu and our order, but I'm gona choose two dishes and why those very simple and traditional items in any respectful tapas restaurant completely sucked at this "Arpa" hole in the wall. How is it possible to fuck up a goat cheese plate, ah? What was brought to the table was two round, testicle-looking fried goat cheese in a very fancy decorated plate. No tomato sauce, no bread to eat with, no nothing: just the fancy little plate, the minuscule goat cheese testicles and the smile of our waiter. If you cannot come up with a decent goat cheese plate in a tapas restaurant you should change your name to "Arpa Bank", or "Sperm Donation Center Arpa" or something about those lines: "we extend you a car loan and give you goat cheese while you wait", should be the slogan of a place like that.
Then you have the Grilled Calamari. Good God. Up in Cafe Iberico in the windy city, they give you the whole animal with a lot of lemon so that you can eat, enjoy, and satisfy your appetite. At Arpa they give you THREE rings of something that I guess was calamari hidden inside a salad of greens -on another fancy little plate, followed by another smile from out waiter. I had to dig out that salad to find the calamari rings and took advantage that J and K were talking non-stop and ate all three rings. I thought there was at least five rings, three for me and one for each one of them, but actually they had to move to the shrimp because they couldn't find any more calamari (sorry baby).

In plain-O-words that restaurant sucks! But my girlfriend kicks ass and her friend K rocks; and their conversation was very funny and interesting and the Amstel Light that I drank was ice cold and better than any other plate on the table that night; and only Shakira has had the malfunctioning balls to move her heart from one geographical location to another; and my doctor was right both about my health and the restaurant and I'm definitely a VERY lucky and happy man today. And I'm fully aware of that.

And I ain't frikking going back to Arpa unless they need sperm donors, with a complimentary goat cheese plate while you wait - ha!

Spring!

Ahhh, isn't Spring just the most wonderful time of the year? It is, and I just love it!

What is not to love about Spring? After several months of cold weather, dead vegetation, fewer animals roaming the great wilderness due to hibernation; after having to pay a higher energy bill in order to keep warm at night (and at day and afternoon and evening); after months wearing layers and layers of sweaters, jackets, scarves and the alike; after having to drive on snow trying not to hit the next light post and to get to work on time; after having to work out indoors for almost an eternity -if were're brave enough to actually venture out and work out; after a fortune spent in dry cleaning for all those expensive cashmere sweaters that w'all own; after not being able to see the sun all the way up in a clear blue sky but always close to the horizon; after frickking months being unable to copulate in the great outdoors and sweat like horses while doing it; after not being able to roll down your car's rag top and after cursing every morning for how cold the steering wheel feels even with gloves; and after complaining and vowing that next time you'll be moving to more warmer lands. . . we finally have Spring here in its full swing!

Ahhh thanks Lord for all that green and all that vegetation! Isn't nature just the most wonderful thing out there second only to sex, alcohol and coffee? Aren't all those flowers that pop up during this time of the year just a blessing and a concert for the eyes? All those little birds that were hidden or flying only the necessary in order to get their necessary food only to come back to cuddle trying to escape the cold are now out singing and flying around with their brand new girlfriends making life around us beautiful. Even the Mexicans that come and mow the lawn look so cool and nice and sincere and hard working and the noise from their machines is just a reminder of the great country we live in. I would even venture to say that that dumb ass that we have for president even looks smart, because I just love Spring as much as I love sarcasm.

Yes. . . as much as I love sarcasm my friends.

And as much as I love being sarcastic, I love making fun of the things that I plainly detest. And if sneezing three hundred times a minute and having watery eyes and itchy nose is not enough to curse every single flower out there, how about having to put back in the closet all the sweaters and jackets that I so happily wore for the last few months and get out my flip flops and shorts so that I can walk faster from the air conditioning of my car to the air conditioning of the grocery store and back to the air conditioning of my car back to the air conditioning of my place. And from Monday through Friday I go from the air conditioning of my place, to my car's cool air and then to my offices super-delicious 68F that takes me back to those wonderful winter days that I oh-love-so-much!


And is not that today I had to start drugging my self again in order to reduce my misery to a more tolerant level of "sneezing a lot" but not like crazy that had left me bitter; and is not just that I forgot my insurance card and had to end up paying the full $112 for my little orange-yellowish prescription bottle that will last until the sun is high up in the clear blue sky and everything around us will start melting due to that motherfucking heat that always comes hand in hand with Summer. And before that source of skin cancer starts to get lower and lower in the horizon I still have to burn my left arm a couple of times while the right one is still milk-white (for you slow people who didn't get it, the left arm is close to the car window and therefore exposed to much more sun than the right one, therefore the crimson burn).

And I really don't want to give the impression to anyone that I'm bitter or that I dislike this time of the year commonly referred to as "Spring": oh, no my friends, I want to make it perfectly clear that I detest all this shit that nature has to go through and that the only thing that keeps me going -besides a trip to Savannah in the next few weeks-, is the idea that after all this shitty heat has passed there'll always be Autumn followed by that beautiful time of the year called Winter! Yes, Autumn y'all out there, and hell yeah, Winter for you Neanderthals with a Hummer parked on your garage. Once this heat is gone, there'll be no more allergies, no more birds shitting on my car, no more Mexicans waking me up with their tree leaves blowers, no more sunburns, and no more over priced drugs to keep me from sneezing.

But seriously, don't you feel that this is just the perfect timing for another ice age?

On The Law of Gravity

I know that there's quite a few things that are not working quite all right with me, both physically and mentally, but at least I'm aware of it, and aware that there's some very important things in life that I have crystal clear [as a side note I just want to point out that a visit to the doctor's confirmed that, thanks God, there's nothing wrong with that].

Sometimes after work I hang out around the water cooler with some of my co-workers, some of them have to work longer than I have to some days and the other way around. We just chit chat, exchange little stories on this and that, and that kind of stuff. It's just about five minutes or so while I wait for everybody to exit the parking lot like if the building was gona blow up or like if it was 5PM. Today a Lady asked me that what had happened to me, that it's been ages since the last time I hung out with them after work. I mention to her that my girlfriend was in town last week, so everyday I was just counting the minutes to go and see her, therefore I wasn't able to stop and say hi. She must've overheard a conversation before and asked me something about going to visit her to another State in previous occasions, a fact that I confirmed and added that I hope there'd be more frequent trips in the near future.

She smile and gave me the "aww, that's so sweet"; and by instinct I told her that when you have a girlfriend, you have to take care of her. Up until this point everything was fine, there was nothing new under the sun and it was just a regular five-minute chit chat before heading for the parking lot, my little red car, the highway, a couple of exits and intersections followed by some traffics lights, and finally the peacefulness and quietness of my place. And an afternoon nap.

But right after I made that comment, this woman looked at me wide-eyed, her eye brows raised, and with her mouth open like if she was about to have her window teeth extracted said: "WOW!". The look in her eyes was the equivalent of having discovered to her the law of gravity: something so simple, obvious, and that is all around us, but that at the same time is something that no one ever thought about it.
She asked me other questions about me and *the one*, that I of course dodge at the best of my abilities, giving her the very clear and polite idea that it's not her fucking business.

Once in my car and while speeding north towards The Queen City, I thought what was really the big deal about that little line. For me it's so obvious and so true that it comes as a reflex. If in The Law of Gravity everything that goes up will come back down; then in The Law of Relationships if you have a girlfriend you have to take care of her, or someone else will. And The Law of Relationships is not jus for a girlfriend, but also for a boyfriend, friends, family and people that one cares about and wants to keep close; those are the people one wants to keep showing, in many ways, that one cares about them. Not just with pink cards and tired lines, but with your very own actions more than anything. Ok, also with pink cards and tired lines if that's the way you think it should be, but either you have to do it. I mean there's no other fucking way, is there?

I understand that there's different type of relationships and different levels of commitment and stuff like that; there's also different moments in life and definitely different levels of hormones going through one's body; and at certain moments in life there's also different priorities, behaviors and attitudes relationships-wise. One size doesn't fit all. But whatever point in your life you're at, you do have to keep hooking up the people you care about, otherwise they may not be around for long. I just feel that I'm lloviendo sobre mojado and writing about the shallowest shit ever, but why something that is so obvious in my universe, doesn't appear to be that way in other people's eyes? I spoke to my friend C about it, and she told me that she feels the same way I do, and she even came up with a line very close to the one I used with my co-worker that encapsulates that very same idea I expressed. I fully understand that there's a lot of very good explanations for my friend C and me coming up with the same attitude and behavior towards relationships, but it doesn't explain why that idea isn't universal. I mean, isn't it bloody obvious and crystal clear that if you don't take care of your girlfriend/boyfriend, someone else would end up doing it?

In any case, after I gave it a thought for a few miles and once I was stuck in traffic in one of the exits, I decided to make a little phone call to put into practice those very same words.