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With a Side of Chicken

I didn't realize how accustomed to life here in Mexico I'd become until standing outside my house the other day when my friend here who is also from the states pointed out the new addition of chickens on the side of my neighbors house - and started laughing at it. She told my "Oh my gosh, that's SSOOOOO a blog post for you!"

The cage and chickens showed up on the side of my neighbors house about two weeks ago and I remember seeing it the first time and thinking to myself "Huh, wonder what they're keeping them for? To breed?" and going on about my day like there was nothing kooky about it in the least. HA! When I first moved here I would have run outside with my camera immediately and then ran back in to call my Mom but now.... lol it's just so normal.

The lack of space in-house and outside of houses here makes for a lot of creativity from the people. A neighbor two houses the other way actually has two poodles living on their roof and in our old neighborhood there was a German shepherd that lived on someones roof. Chino's cousin has a neighbor who raises a whole hen house of chickens on the his roof and I've often seen him climbing up there and throwing out corn for them to feed. Nothing goes to waste here and that includes all possible space.

This is the first time I've ever seen chickens on the SIDE of a house but hell, if it works don't knock it. I'm just happy the damn rooster has his days and nights figured out. One of my Moms roosters from when I used to live back home was always getting day and night confused - especially if the moon was bright - and could be heard crowing all night long. So, I'm just happy ole KFC across the street has a brain.

It's funny how a little time and acclimation can change a persons perspective on what's normal and what's not. The truth is that there IS no normal - but it would be good to remember to laugh when I see things that are a tad . .. . ingenuitive.

Note To Self: No more posting after going 48 hours on only ONE hour of sleep.

Cuz damn, that can get ugly right?

LOL I woke up today after sleeping a blissful eight hours of sleep, went to check my blog and RU-ROW, fuzzily remembered that I went ape-shit yesterday about something that I would normally consider not worth my time.

But yesterday it seemed A HUGE DEAL because lol - I was beyond tired and for whatever reason reading about Obama's choice offended my sleep deprived brain. It offended it and pissed it off and I remember feeling like he had personally slapped me in the face.

Today? Yeaaaahhhh not so much. Today I'm back to thinking that there are much more important things for me to worry about, like the Season Finale of Grey's Anatomy and Bones and WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO BONES AND BOOTH????

Dear lord I might as well have handed out free soap boxes and all but begged people to publicly flog me.

You might think it sounds crazy as vehement as I was yesterday that I don't care today but ... well I don't. Maybe today it erks me in some offhand way and it makes me wonder what he was thinking and maybe today my normal brain can understand a little bit where yesterdays crazy brain was coming from - but not enough to post it on my blog any longer.

I love my husband. He loves me. We love our baby. And when Daisy grows up she can choose "wolf pack" for her nationality as long as she comes home to Momma once in a while and has bologna and avocado tacos.

Today - I couldn't care less.

One more thing - and this is on a clear thinking day - I'll no longer be allowing Anon commenter's on my blog. It makes me sad because some of my FAVORITE commenter's are Anon - Upstate Broad and my Cousin Corey Jo - but I can no longer stand the racists that have been increasingly showing up here and blasting hate all over my pretty little happy-love blog. All of a sudden Bubba -

*Grabs his belt buckle*
*Spits his chew*
"Yeeeaaaap Hoss, I don't know bout you but I thank somethin' smells awful colored round these parts."
"Go get me a rope HOSS, we goan STRANG HER UP!"

-has been anonymously taking more than his fare share of space up in my comment box. I wish I could say "sticks and stones" and "I don't care." The truth though is that every time it hurts my feelings a little bit more and reminds me that there's still a lot of hate in this world. I don't come to my blog to find hate so no more. I don't want my fellow blog FRIENDS to have to come here and see hate - so no more.

If you want to create your own blog account, lay YOUR heart out for all to see and then come here publicly and spew a bunch of hate - be my guest! It's fair as long as I can go back to YOUR blog and fuck with you too.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a post to write about how my neighbor keeps chickens on the side of his house. That's newsworthy to me. :)

Cleanse Thyself......with Basil. Mexican Limpia

Last week while at a park on the river Chino and I were hanging out, watching the river flow by, contemplating just how much we could terrorize Daisy by dipping her toes in the water, trying to figure out how to get our Pit Bull to swim and not sink like a rock and you know, just enjoying the day. Along came a woman and her friend and we were privileged to witness a true Mexican Limpia - a cleansing ritual - and just how they go about doing it.

One of the women was wearing a faux flower rainbow lei around her neck and sat herself down on the dock with her feet in the water. She had a big bouquet of what smelled like sweet basil and she began what looked like dusting herself off with it. She rubbed it over her entire body, swiping away the bad.... luck? Sickness I've no clue, off of her head, back, arms and legs. She appeared to be sweeping the demons into the water. It only took a half minute or so and she stood up, tossed the bouquet of basil into the river and then took off the lei and tossed that in as well.

A part of me wishes I knew more about it - and I'm sure Google could remedy that in an in an instant - but another part knows that it would dim the magic of it all. Magic seems such a silly word to write but if you could have seen her throw the bouquet and into the flowing river as if she were casting away all her problems and worries and if you could have seen her walk away, as if she were nearly floating across the ground, you wouldn't think it such a dramatic description. She wore a beautiful smile and her body seemed to be on the verge of skipping or dancing with every step she took. It was lovely.

I envy this part of the Mexican culture that places faith in simple rituals and their ability to believe so whole heartedly in them. It's much like Christianity I guess, going forward on faith alone and I imagine I'm envious because I've fallen so far away from my own faith. It would be nice to be back in a place where I could place every circumstance that came my way away from myself and into the hands of God. I miss that. It's a gift when you don't have to carry the weight of everything square on your shoulders but to have someone or something or some ritual to take part of the burden.

My friend Amanda says that people come into our lives for a reason and I think the glimpse of this woman's pure faith was a big dose of "HELLO!" that I needed to get my butt back on track to finding a church again. I speak a lot more Spanish these days so perhaps it won't be the train wreck that it was when I first moved here and Chino and I went church shopping.

Ok, I've gone far off track here, I meant only to tell you about witnessing a little bit of witch craft and it seems I've gone quite off the beaten path. Anyhoo, Mexico never ceases to surprise me it seems and I look forward to witnessing more of these cultural haps in the weeks and months to come.

Best Baby Teether

Hillbilly pacifier?

Or maybe just po-folk?

Or practical folks?
Crazy people?

It's GREEN if you think about it. No plastic!

Anyhoo last week after we grilled out we were eating at the table with Daisy in my lap and she was waving all around trying to pull the food off of our plates. I asked Chino to clean up a bone for her so no pieces would fall of and we gave it a go. The result? She freaking LOOOOVVVVEED it. I couldn't even get her to smile for a pic because this was serious business.

I don't think she's ever been so skilled with her hands - no poking her eyes out or sticking it up her nose on this day. She was so into it that she chewed on the bone giving it her full attention longer than she's given to anything else -ever.

Who needs fancy teethers and Baby Einstein videos when a plain ole chicken bone keeps her happier longer and brings out new super baby skillz? Baby Einstein didn't teach her to hold an object steady or fix her attention for longer than 30 seconds. Baby Einstein can officially kiss my ass. Dear lord have you ever tried WATCHING one of those things anyway?

GAAHHH it's horrible! If I wanted her to grow up a monotone human being with the humor of a mole, then I'd let her watch them - but no. Why do baby movies have to be so tedious and laaaame and boring? Daisy likes to watch Mexican Soap Operas, not a rubber duck floating across the screen saying "Duck. Duck. Duck. One...Yellow... Duck." Shoot me.

Of course, if we continue to let her watch Mexican soap operas the consequences of THAT might be far worse than the boring duck. She'll think it's normal to dramatically stare off into space for 40 second pauses after every conversation is finished. And when she hears that her husband is her brother and has just killed their mother who she thought was her housekeeper but who is actually a witch pretending to be a male priest - it won't phase her at all.

She'll break into song, (after a 40 second pause to stare into space) dance around the room and end the day with her lover - the gardener (who is actually a millionaire in hiding from the Argentine police.) Ah well, she'll have an exciting life.

Chicken bones are better than bologna right? At least I'm not giving her bologna - I'm not that insane. And SPEAKING of bologna - confession time - I have to sing the b-o-l-o-g-n-a song to spell "bologna" or else I'll type it baloney - every time.

(And p.s. I promise someday I'll put up a picture where she's actually wearing pants. I just have to buy some pants.)

(And P.S.S. at least I don't give her DOG BONES like my Mom did to me - it was a Milk Bone at least but... well come on.) :D I've got the pictures to prove it and I guess.... well it IS sort of a good idea.....

Stripper Style : Injuries Obtained

Now that Daisy is 5 months old Chino and I seem to be getting our lives back together, routines, sleep schedules and such and I'm thrilled to say that our sex life is fiiiinnnnaaaallyyyy back to where it should be. Nothing to throw off a sex life like a baby - lol - who knew?

Anyhoo, in celebration of our new found happiness we brought in a prop the other night for an added bit-o-fun - a simple chair. Someone who-shall-remain-unnamed had a stripper style forward-sitting position fantasy and someone else was happy to comply.

La la ti da everything was going along quite nicely and I thought I was being pretty damn cool thank-you-very-much and decided to up the ante by including one of those bend-over-to-the-floor dealies. It would have been awesome had I not gone for the move so quickly and still had a bit of ole astroglide on my hands, because my hands did a quick !SLIP! out from underneath me on the tile floor. What is it about gettin' it on that makes me forget that I'm a klutz? Endorphins? Bastards.

Already unsteady from my precarious perched position it was inevitable that the aftermath of the slip would be great. One hand went one way the other hand sort of in the same direction and the next thing I know I'm no longer in the chair but flying in a roll sideways, hitting my head on the bedside, flinging a leg in the air for good measure managing to wing my husband and finally landing with a nice thud on my shoulder. Awesome. (And lol why did it take me 28 years to get that the "slippery when wet" signs are funny? How did I never GET that???)

After laughing my ass off/half crying for a good minute or so and assessing the minimal damage - bruised head, pissed off wrist and bruised shoulder I tried to stand up only to slip barefoot on the astroglide that screwed me up in the first place and ended up taking a knee to the tile once more. I'm telling you guys, astroglide really IS the shit.

Luckily my husband has a great sense of humor and gentlemanly helped me to the bed where we could finish what we started in a more fitting geriatric manner. Nothing wrong with doin' it old school, a lot less injuries that way.

Ah well, here's to getting back on track and as always - dorking it up.

Baby Driving Lessons

Chino bought Daisy a baby walker last week and I thought it would be prudent to sit her down and explain a few rules of driving.

#1 - My mom always stressed that you MUST wear shoes while driving, so I'm passing that along to Daisy. Pants? Well, who needs pants, Grama never mentioned pants.

#2 -We don't drink and drive.

#3- We don't text and drive.

#4 - No eating fillet mignon while driving.

And # 5 - We will never change clothes while driving, accidentally knock the car into neutral and about pee our pants thinking we blew the thing up while simultaneously running ourselves off the road.

You know just in case that might come up one day. You know...... to Daisy.

Apparently I forgot to mention that we shall not glam our rattle while driving. Guess she didn't pick up on the theme.

Rapist Poodle - Update

I've got an update and the gay-pit- bull-raping-poodle from a few posts ago. It seems his sexual deviancy is rapidly spinning out of control and as of late he appears to have the sex drive of a rabbit on exctasty aaaaand a smidgen of coke.

I can't imagine what's gone wrong in his brain but these days he will chase any dog that runs past his house and attempt to hump it. He's definitely bi and not gay - nooooo discrimination here and for that I give him kudos, but he better stay away from my poor pit bulla. The street dogs here in Mexico are huge in numbers so Mr. Doodles is quite a busy man running to and fro furiously trying to lay his smack down.

He's not been back to rape my dog, poor Pooper (he must not be a very good lay) and for that I'm grateful.

There really must be something wrong with the lil guy because normally he would be causing himself a world of hurt by running after street dogs but for some reason they seem to sense that something is wrong with him. They might growl or snap - and all of them point their butts toward the ground - but they don't break out and kick his ass. He's gained a bit of local awareness and most dogs that pass by do it in a hurry these days, trying to avoid gleaning his attentions.

At this rate of acceleration I imagine he'll be running after the neighbor kids pretty quick and when that happens I'm not sure what'll become of him. He won't become tacos, dog tacos are truly a myth here although if a burro or horse dies of a broken leg I wouldn't be surprised if a new taquito cart opens up for a few days.

I had some completely unidentifiable meat taco's a couple of years ago in Monterrey but they were good so, well, I didn't care too much what they were made of. For heavens sake I eat bologna on a weekly basis - so what do I care?

By the way my new favorite taco - check them out to the left - can you guess the ingredients? They're DIVINE I tell you - LICIOUS! My very own fusion cuisine.

Anyhoo, the poodle's gone batshit, the neighbors don't seem to notice or care and all I have to say is that if he tries to lay his pipe on my baby stroller we'll have to have a bit more serious talk then when we did with the garden hose. Your days are numbered Mr. Doodle and a white girl is far crazier than a goofy poodle. Watch'yo self.

Should've Known Better

I went today to get my ears pierced - at Walmart.

Do I need to continue with this post or should I just leave it a one-liner? I'm not sure how I expected this to come out ok, I'm an optimist and all, but damn.

I'm 28 years old and I don't have pierced ears -weirdo - and Chino bought me earrings for Mothers Day. They're nice, I want to wear them and I've bought about 50 pairs of earrings over the years in hopes of one day getting around to piercing my ears so I figured this might be the sign to go ahead and get it done once and for all.

Anyhoo (and all the hoo's in hoosville rejoiced!) I dropped in to ole Wally for some onions and milk - one hell of a shake - and noticed a sign that they pierce ears for free. FREE! I can't pass up free, my soul will not allow it and I found myself at the counter 5 minutes later filling out a form saying that if I died or my ears fell off I promised not to sue. Check and check.

The woman was quick, it didn't hurt much and I was thrilled until I looked in the mirror.

The lil CZ studs (I'm cheap I told you) twinkling at me in the mirror, they were twinkling... at the floor. They were IN MY EARS and pointing DOWNWARD. The woman pierced my ears so shit forsaken downward-slanted that I looked like those really old ladies whose earrings are too heavy for their ears and their skin is weak and so they just kind of hang downward and look icky - like that.

I was dumbfounded and didn't even GET IT for a second or two. I thought maybe the earrings weren't in all the way or not tight enough but fiddling with them for a sec verified that they were in all right, in at a fucking downward SLOPE.

I turned to the woman and asked her if she didn't think that they were perhaps a tad skewed. A blank I-didn't-do-it look came across her face and she examined my ears only to report back

"They're strait. I don't know, I mean, the earrings are strait."

"But they're pointing downward"

"Well.... let me see again... no, but, I mean they go through strait." "Look in the mirror, they go through your ear strait."

"But don't they look like they're pointing at the floor?"

"Well, I mean but they go through strait. It must be your ears are shaped funny, because the earrings, they're strait."

STRAIT?? STRAIT IS QUITE RELATIVE DON'T YOU THINK YOU DUMB PIECE OF ... human. *calm thyself gringa* she's a human and we all make mistakes.

We don't all make mistakes concerning PIERCING MY FLESH but *breathe* stuff happens.

She never admitted that there was anything wrong with the piercing but did call a manager over to offer me a refund and a FREE re-piercing any time after 24 hours. How nice! Really that's just ger-fracking DANDY of them to offer. The manager took a look at my ears and admitted that the earrings did have a bit of a slant and said "Uh yeeeaaahhh, you know, sometimes the earrings, they're...funny."

I remained smiling and polite the entire time and I'm pretty sure that was scaring the shit out of them. They kept waiting on the balls of their feet in case I decided to go postal and they needed to run but I just kept on a smilin'.

When I had to stand there and take the earrings OUT of my freshly stabbed flesh and the bastards wouldn't come apart I just kept on smiling because it was all I could do to not lose it. I pulled with all of my strength but couldn't seem to get them to come apart and started having horrid flashes of some sort of Walmart-jaws-of-life coming at me and tearing my ears strait off my head while I just stood silently smiling and going insane inside my head.

The ladies got super scared at this point and could only manage to stare out of the corners of their eye's in horror as I tried to get the dag gum things out of my head. A couple of broken nails and one almost-nervous-breakdown later and I had them out. And GOLLY they were so nice they even let me KEEP them for free!

ISN'T THAT NICE????

So. My ears hurt and I've been punctured but have nothing but a pissy blog post to show for it. I needed fodder so I figure it all evens out, shit happens, and I'll be moving on to one of those tattoo/piercing places next time I get up the guts to wound myself.

When they ask me what I'm coming in for I think I'll smile and say "Oh, I don't know, I was thinking about maybe a sleeve of naked women and maybe a full back tattoo of the Devil. Do you think you can draw something up??" before I admit that I'm 28 and would just like to have my ears pierced.

Spank That Monkey

I realized today just how far I've fallen off the wagon since having a baby. Forgive me.

I gave Daisy her sock monkey and was laughing because she was trying to chew the monkey's face off. I told her that in the future I'd appreciate if she'd only make out with mammals of her own species but for now it'd be ok.

ANYWAYS, she started slapping the monkey around a bit and I started yelling - "Kill it! KILL that MONKEY!" and laughing at her antics. She was having a great time batting it around and the next thing I heard myself say was -

"Beat it! BEAT THAT MONKEY BABY! BEAT 'IM GOOD!"

Unfortunately the 12 year old boy inside me was having a heart attack and I was oblivious the the fact that I was telling Daisy to spank her monkey. I said it like FIVE times before my poor brain kicked in to gear! How sad.

Hopefully it was merely a minor lapse but if not, I'm gonna have to find a way to get my mind back on track. If need be I'll rent a box set of Bevis and Butthead to get things moving again. Nothing like a B&B marathon to get the ole colon in my brain working smooth again. Wish me luck.

P.S. apparently she's got a thing for ducks as well but I can't yell My Favorite Duck Saying at her. I'm a goof but... well, no. *sigh* I'm going to have to stop swearing pretty soon.

Cee-ment Jesus

Note to self: don't buy a life size cement Jesus lawn ornament.

Not that I had really planned on it but you know, just in case.

Why?

The other day driving home from work I took a new route and passed one of those lawn ornament store places here on the Mexico side and saw this Jesus standing out on the sidewalk as the store mascot.

What you can't see in THIS picture though were the two men standing in front of cee-ment Jesus at the time I drove by. One of the men was standing and staring into cement Jesus' face (about 5 inches away) as if it held answers to some pretty important questions he had going through his mind. Either that or he was pissed, getting up in cement Jesus' face and was about to punch him out - one of the two, but for the sake of his hand let's hope for the former.

The other man though - holy crap - he was standing of to cement Jesus' left side and was pleading with cement Jesus - I'm not sure for what - but he was pleading intensely placing his hand on cement Jesus' arm and started praying. Then to my horrified surprise he started getting REALLY into it and started pounding on cement Jesus reeeaaaallyy trying to get his point across. He was obviously having quite a spiritual breakdown moment and I felt for the guy but crap-on-a-cracker yo, he was in the middle of an intersection beating up a cement Jesus!

I wanted to take a picture but figured I might get a strait-to-hell pass for that and waited till the next day when nobody else was around.

Does anybody else think that cement Jesus looks a LOT like a Disney Cartoon?? I mean really if you're going to do JESUS couldn't you at least try and make it look believable? Not that it apparently matters to folks in Mexico - they were truly diggin cement Jesus - but it bothers me.

Another reason that I could never personally have a cement Jesus in my yard is the fact that when I had access to my neighbors Christmas lawn-deer she might have woke up more than a few times to see them in some.... interesting positions. Add in a candy cane yard ornament and things really turned out dirty - good thing she was a cool neighbor with a great sense of humor.

SO,

for the sake of not going to hell it would be a good thing for me to not buy a cement Jesus and a Cement Mother Mary. I'm not looking to tempt myself into the ultimate sacrilege and have the neighbors burn down my house. The stripper boots on the cross was bad enough, I need to be careful. (Side note about that - My Husband says he didn't put them on the cross and that he thought I did it! So now we have no idea how they got on there -weeeeiiirrdd! And p.s. they're back in the house now and the cross is de-defiled.)

I'd have poor cement Jesus in a dress and holding a beer can so fast that God would have to work quick to send that bolt of lightning out of the sky to fry my butt. And I LIKE Jesus, it's just that I wouldn't be able to help myself. There's just something about screwing with inanimate objects on display that trips my trigger, Lord only knows why. Nothing is immune, stuffed animals, little statues and even my refrigerator ornaments, always ending up in compromising positions and situations that prove that I'm a demented pervert.

Nope, no lawn ornaments for me. How sad.

Pitbull Molested By Poodle

I woke up the other morning to see the neighbors poodle outside of our fence whimpering and pacing back and forth. My dog Pooper the Pit bull went up to the fence to make nice and they seemed to be hitting it off quite well. Every time Pooper would walk away the Poodle would stand on his hind legs like in the picture and wave his two front paws up and down in the air - it was adorable!!


Fast forward a half hour and I looked outside my window to see THIS. The little bastard actually squeeeezed it's way through the top half of the bars and came on over to make a bitch out of my dog!

Poor Pooper, he thought that the Poodle wanted to PLAY with him and kept trying to get something going but the Poodle had a SERIOUSLY one point objective.

For a while I thought the poodle was an in heat girl poodle that was a tad confused about how this process is supposed to work, and watched curiously to see if Poop would try and get on the bandwagon himself. After a few minutes though I notice - the Poodle had a DOODLE!

I had a queer Poodle trying to rape my poor baby Pit Bull!! I have nothing wrong with homosexuality - what ever floats your boat is FINE by me - but breaking and entering, then forcing oneself upon an Innocent is no good for any gender preference!

Look at my poor baby! By this point he was heartbroken that his new friend wouldn't play with him so he just gave up, sat down and let it happen.

Or, maybe he was smart and was hiding his cornhole, I don't know.

It didn't take me long to shoo out Mr. Doodles and unfortunately it took Mr. Humpity D. even LESS time to come strait back through my bars for another round.

I chased his ass out about 4 different times before I finally had to use the hose. If all else fails, hose 'em down.

LOOK AT HIS FACE!! Isn't that the saddest look you've ever seen on a Pit Bull??? He looks ashamed and used. Poor baby boy, Mama got rid of that ole hor.

Truthfully I'm not sure what the whole episode was about, we've lived here for like 5 months now and the Gay Poodle has never flown his freak flag before so I don't know what triggered this episode.

Perhaps there was a bitch in heat near by and his lil nose couldn't differentiate? OR maybe he was experimenting with long pent up homoerotic urges?? Shit if I know but he better not rape my dog anymore or I'll be forced to go to the neighbors and use my limited Spanish to bitch at them.

This is the best I can come up with with my limited vocab - I'll translate it to English - "Your dog in my yard. Inside my fence. Wants sex from my dog. Both are boys. My dog no want sex. Your dog is gay. Please no more."

It's the best I can do because Chino won't help me, he's embarrassed for some reason, I don't get it.