She’s up in the air right now.
Flying to Mexico City. Well… actually towards Morelia first and then connecting to Mexico City. Fucking Volaris canceled her 7:00 am flight after waking up at 5 am and rushing her out the door so she didn’t miss her flight.
We had a fight last night. The worst so far. It was dumb. I am dumb.
BLOG ON HOLD RIGHT NOW.
Editor hitting me up that I need to finish this stuff soon. And I wanted to take my time.
Ok. Back after emailing editor clarifications and edits.
Emailing editors still makes me nervous for no reason. The cover story is still making me nervous.
And I think about writing a book. Hah!
That’s still up in the air.
Many times I just think about quit writing (especially this blog) and getting a regular human job.
That’s up in the air.
My girlfriend is still up in the air right now…
Everything always is always up in the air.
Summer is in the air as well. It felt like it last week, and it is starting to truly behave like California nice weather time.
Also. Bisho is shedding tons. I need to groom the hairy fellow.
That sounded gross.
It was on purpose.
Sunday! What a mess!
While I sat on my desk and word vomited in this blog, my girlfriend was doing laundry.
Breakfast time turned to brunch turned to just lunch.
We made it to Los Chilaquiles at around 3 pm. We never made it to the beach (Playas).
It was obvious what she was going to order.
Almost by the end of the menu, it read “the spiciest of chilaquiles in Tijuana.” She ordered those with extra salsa and eggs over easy on the side.
She requested even more salsa. Then some peppers. Then more salsa. And when she was almost done… she requested even more salsa.
She didn’t break a sweat. She didn’t think it was spicy at all. I had some, they weren’t very spicy as they claimed, but they did have a kick (not the kind of spiciness I enjoy).
And for me… it was sorta obvious as well. I fucking love lengua (tongue) and almost anything in salsa verde. The chilaquiles with huitlacoche were tempting not only because fucking delicious, but because also they were much cheaper. But goddamn fucking lengua is too delicious.
I enjoyed them as much as you can enjoy Mexican breakfast nachos. More lengua would be welcome, but because I love lengua, the portion was actually sizeable. Green salsa was mild. Just like my Gringo ass likes it.
Coffee… coffee was coffee.
Speaking of coffee… I’m on my 5th cup. I usually only have 3 with my word vomit then I started doing actual work.
The papers were reversed this morning. Did actual work and now I’m word vomiting. Too bad that work was already paid for and it was just revising/editing. There might be some more of that later. And pictures to be taken. Because you know. Cover story.
After Chilaquiles, we both wanted dessert.
We got that fucker at Almibar’s desserts. Which was supposedly a Guinness cheesecake with chocolate. It tasted like chocolate ice cream and didn’t taste the stout at all. It was good. A bit too sweet for the both of us (and that’s why we shared it and barely could finish it).
From there, to Voodoo Stu to watch an experimental music and movie show while drinking some Tecates. My roommate’s weird project opened for some strange rapper from Buffalo New York. It was comedic, I think… I want to think the comedic sense of it was on purpose. Sounded like Reggie Watts and Death Grips met with The Streets turned rap political and added a dash of nonsense. That sounds kinda impressive. But it wasn’t. It was okay.
It was a lovely Sunday.
And to tie it all together. It ended in karaoke. Her favorite thing.
She just landed in Morelia. Not up in the air anymore. But she will be up in the air soon again to Mexico City.
I suck at karaoke. It is one of my most hated things. More like was. Because I do it for her.
Probably what I suck the most at besides singing, is my choice of songs.
I get a kick out of looking like the whitest and most awkward tall fucker imaginable and singing shitty Mexican tunes. Especially that fucker with such a nasal tone to his voice.
But apparently, I’m the only fucker that likes this.
This was my first choice.
That song is fucking shittily hilarious. But she said she hated Valentin Elizalde, so I chose the other one. Which she also hated.
Then the rest of my ideas for song choices were also horrible. I either want to rap, heavy songs, or sing extremely shitty pop songs. I thought about Hit Me Baby One More Time (yes, Britney’s), or maybe Chop Suey by SOAD, Gimme Chocolate by Baby Metal, or do some Vanilla Ice or challenge myself and try some Aesop Rock or Nach Scratch.
All fucking weird horrible choices. So I ended up not singing again.
I’m just bad at fucking karaoke.
She absolutely loves it. And that makes me happy. She sang and dance, and sang and dance, and sang and dance again and again with my roommate’s girlfriend.
It was after all of this that we fought while walking home.
It was a lovely Sunday.
But I’m a thin-skinned egomaniacal bastard. Kinda sorta like Trump.
I don’t like things I’m bad at. And I try karaoke just for her. And she just kept telling me how horrible I was at it. Her revenge for me telling her she is horrible at pool and Mario Kart.
This is where we differ.
She is bad and doesn’t care. She has fun. She doesn’t care if she loses.
I am the complete opposite.
I like winning. If I can’t win, I don’t like playing the game. Oh fuck. I’m like Trump.
So because I made her feel like shit, I received the same treatment. And I felt like shit. It was a dumb fight. But I didn’t want to talk to her for the night.
Like a rejected puppy/husband, I wanted to sleep on the couch and worry about it later. I was just angry. I knew we had to work it out. We are together. It was obviously not the end. It was just a shitty fight.
It didn’t take very long to get it resolved. I didn’t spend the night on the couch.
And I feel like our relationship grew from it.
There’s always going to be some differences. There’s going to be shitty fights. That’s how relationships work, right?
We both have to do some self-sacrifices. And I need to learn how to deal with it.
Besides working this morning and then writing all this shit… I’ve been practicing karaoke. Because FUCK! I know it’s going to happen again. And I know I’m bad. And though I told her I wasn’t going to karaoke with her again, I know it’s a lie. I enjoy myself with her too much.
And I know karaoke is not about being good, people that are too good are usually hated. It’s actually about being ridiculous. I don’t have that quality on me. I don’t like being ridiculous. I usually only have one facial expression, and it’s a mixture between sleepy and being seriously sleepy. So I guess I’ll just try to get good at it. Or learn how to be ridiculous.
Oh god. I just recorded myself singing some karaoke. I’m beyond horrible. She is right…
I miss her.
Why him? I don’t need no fucking reason. But this is why. The bathroom at Voodoo Stu’s is covered with movie and concert posters from Southern USA. One of them features Sidney Poitier. Another one has David Carradine. I was reading both of their Wikipedias of these two legendary men. And holy shit. David Carradine was an insane mother fucker.
If you don’t know who he is. Go read about him.
I have two folders of him. I barely remember the shoot. But I knew I saw him. I remember when the news hit about his accidental death by self-erotic asphyxiation. What a way to go.
Ever wonder how are you going to die?
If I could just really have one request (besides not by torture). I don’t want to die while masturbating and choking myself.
The first shoot was on February 7, 2009. That day I also shot Al Gore and Brian whateverhislastnameis from the Backstreet Boys.
The second shoot was on April 8, 2009. That day I also shot Alfonso Ribeiro, Gina DeLaurentis, Kenny Hotz, Salma Hayek, Zooey Deschannel, and Lemmy Kilmister. Shit. I took pictures of two people that are dead in the same day…
License picture… ENHANCE.
There you have it, folks.
Celebrity Monday and a lot of word vomit.
Now it is time to do some real work. I’m still unsure what is next. I think I know, but I’m still not sure. Wait for more edits. Send the story I pitched. Start new stories. Try to keep writing the old ones. Shoot for a book?!
Girlfriend is gone for a few days. Unsure about how I feel about this. Again. I miss her. But this is a weird freedom I haven’t had in a while…
She’s up in the air again. She won’t read this until later.
Up in the air.
By the way.
It’s a great fucking movie.