Houston Vacay, Texas Beers – Tinder Date and Rockets vs Lakers on Peed Pants – New Year Let’s Go

I peed my pants in public. Surrounded by hundreds of Texans. No one knew except my cousin when I told him “I’m peeing right now.” He couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. This has never happened in my life (and I hope it never happens again). I wasn’t even drunk…

I’ve been on an eternal Sunday since December. I had no gigs in December until almost the last day. I made a bit of money, just enough to pay rent. I need to make way more.

I had a New Years Party gig that was supposedly paying me $600+

That got covidcanceled. I also think they didn’t sell enough tickets and that’s why they canceled it. Either or, it’s money that I needed that I don’t have. I was going to buy a new camera body with that…

Now January.



There is FUCKING nothing on my schedule. But I will have to make it work. I need to make a list of prices. I need to find gigs. I need to find gigs. I’ll be alright. There is nothing to do right now. Still have that feeling that is an eternal Sunday.

I’m crushing on a girl that I haven’t even met I’m not sure why. I fall too easily. Her smile makes me feel fuzzy inside for no reason. I was going to see her yesterday, but my Donatella was locked up and I ended up canceling.

I went on a Tinder date in Houston.

I have all the dating apps. I use them when I’m bored. An ego boost. I matched with that hottie?! Wow. That would be cool.

And then I never talk to anyone.

That’s usually how it goes. Or if I talk, either they lose interest, or I do. Online dating is not really a thing I want to do, but I have the apps just in case.

I matched with this super hot black chick. Think Amber Rose if Amber looked like an actual human instead of the fembot she is. Whoa. I just looked Amber up and she looks nothing like my memories. I guess more like Amber Rose a decade ago when she had the bald head. Yes. She also had a bald head. I don’t really like women with short hair, much less bald. But she rocked it. She had style (it’s her job). I had no idea why she would want to go out with me, but she initiated the talk and the going out thing. I told her I was in Houston just for a few days. It mattered not and she said let’s meet.

We met at Buffalo Bayou Brewery. I warned her about my beer snobbery. She didn’t seem to mind. She told me all about the dude she was dating. He sounded like a rich douchenozzle that did too many drugs.

The brewery is lovely with views of downtown Houston. The beer is quality but nothing impressive. She told me she drank tequila, and not really beer. So we only had one and moved on to what she liked.

A place called “The Flat.” It was pretty dope. A house converted into a nice bar/club. We were supposed to dance, but it was too early and we didn’t. We just sat on a couch that was oddly elongated so I wasn’t very comfortable, but we kept drinking and chatting there. She got tequilas (and soda) and I got more beer. I wasn’t paying attention to the beer, more to her. After a few drinks, we moved yet again to a gay bar called “The Eagle,” which apparently, used to be “Mary’s.”

As soon as we ordered our drinks (again, tequila for her, beer for me), the DJ started playing the song Pachuco by La Maldita Vecindad. My Mexicaness took over for a minute and started dancing shittily to a ska cumbia mix. I thought she wanted to dance. Not the type of dancing. DJ went from Mexican songs to hip hop but also back to rancheras and Selena and more Mexican stuff. I grabbed her and tried to dance quebradita, but it wasn’t working. We moved to the type of dancing she wanted to do… which is the easiest dancing for a guy. I just stand there and the girl grinds her butt on me.

And what a butt. I have a thing for softness. I just like soft women. She was very soft. Nice smile. Nice all around. And we started kissing. It was way more than kissing. We were going at it at the gay club. We were kinda drunk. Every once in a while I would collect myself, stop, and look around. Gay guys were jealous. I also saw our reflection on a mirror and thought, damn, we look hot.

Beers at the gay bar where Karbach’s juicy IPA. It was better than any other Karbach beer I’ve had. Karbach went from being the shittiest beer in Houston to an alright beer. Rodeo Clown is horrible, this one (which I think was the Light Circus) was really nice and juicy.

It got late, we were drunk, I’m not sure what time it was. She just kept saying “you are not going to fuck me,” though it kinda seemed like I would since we kept heavily making out. She drove to Whataburger. I was more horny than hungry, so I didn’t get anything. I just stole a bunch of her fries. I regret not getting a burger. She dropped me off at my aunt and uncle’s house and that was it.

That was my second day in Houston. I paid for everything. I didn’t have the courage to tell her I was broke.

After that, my cousin from Seattle arrived and my cousin from Arizona arrived (ok, both from Houston, but they live there now). I got demoted from having my own room to the couch. It was Christmas family time. And that’s all we did. Family time. Drinking a lot of beer and playing tons of video games. My Texan family is funny and odd. Though they have way more money than I will ever have in my life, there wasn’t enough food for Xmas dinner because my uncle doesn’t like wasting a single penny. My brother had to split a rib with my cousin. I barely got two pieces of brisket and a rib. I filled myself with potatoes (that were delicious). But I definitely could have eaten twice as much.

Just a different mind. Different life.

I barely have money. But I use it to enjoy life. Rather be dead if not. And… well… my uncle said it himself. He doesn’t want to live that much longer. A good 10 years. At that age, a good 10 years sounds about right. I just don’t know why he doesn’t enjoy it. Or more like, the way he enjoys it is just monitoring his money. And it’s not like he is a bad guy or anything, it’s more like the game of life for him is to collect money as if they were points. The more money you got, the more points in the game.

Money. Fucking money. I need to make money.

I’m a great photographer. I will get way more gigs in 2022.

Hire me. Photographer in Tijuana or San Diego. Any kind of pictures. Food photographer. Wedding photographer. Event photography. Quinceañeras. I fucking do it all. In Valle, in Baja, in Ensenada, in Tijuana, in San Diego, even in Los Angeles and Orange County, or fuck it, in Houston. Or anywhere in the world (ok, I need to get my passport, so just Mexico and United States for now). That paragraph was more for SEO reasons than nothing else.

I also will be writing more.

Hire me. Well… you don’t get hired for that. More like I just do it. Before going to Houston, I went to the office holiday party. The owner of the magazine was there. He talks wonders of me. He still likes me. I can write way more cover stories. I have three in my mind. Maybe I can take this girl with me to help me.

Oh yeah.

I used my date to investigate beer in Houston.

I was supposed to see the not Amber Rose again on the 26th, but she canceled. From that moment, I knew it was not going to be a thing anymore. She read me right away in Buffalo Bayou. She said I’m a hopeless romantic and that I believe in love. I sort of denied it. But she was right.

I even imagined what it would be like to date her. To move to Houston. She is a fashion consultant with rich as fuck clients. She could help me get clients in the photo world. I could get a job in a brewery. I could live with my aunt and uncle for a while (paying whatever rent they want me to) and live a Houston life.

Alas, it is not for me.

There’s still a chance. A very small chance. Not for her. Just because I want change in my life. I can do photography and writing anywhere, but getting clients it’s not an easy thing. I thought about brewing beer. Assistant brewers make good money.

I’m taking brewery classes starting next week with Charlie Kaminari.

My beer cover is out!


That took forever. So much research. I should go pick it up today. Or sometime soon this week. I posted it on Instagram and this blog post needs a picture.

Here it is:

I took so many attempts at splash photography and this was the best one. It’s a bit soft which bugs me, but all in all. Great article by me. Great photos by me. And everyone seemed happy with it. I was in Houston when it came out. I was on that date when it came out.

I have two beer covers now. I will learn how to make beer. And I’ll make beer my career. With photography and writing and music and touring and all the shit I do.

Here’s a link to the story.

That’s 3 cover stories in the year that I wrote. And I only write cover stories now. I shall write more. And I photographed a total of 25 covers. That’s almost half the covers in a year. It was an alright year. This year should be more than just alright.

There is almost no border wait line today. There wasn’t much yesterday (for a Sunday). I might cross today to pick up my cover and to meet this girl. Tinder date again. Here we go.

I did go on a second date with hotter Amber Rose. It was during the day and we went to Southern Yankee. She got tequila again (it wasn’t very good) and I got two flights of beers. Beers were excellent. The parmesan and truffle oil fries she got were okay.

But yes. Beers. Beers were definitely good there. Too many “west coast IPAs” in Texas and those aren’t as great as they are over here (for obvious reasons). But the rest were really good.

This time. We split the bill. This time. It ended in nothing. Just a hug. It was a fun sexy night. But we parted ways. Maybe I’ll see her again, but probably not.

My cousin came to pick me up to go to the Rockets vs Lakers game in the Toyota Center. My brother and his kid were in the car as well as my other cousin and his girlfriend. Before leaving my date, I said I was going to pee. Just to save time and not make it awkward, I didn’t. We weren’t far from the stadium. I could manage.

As soon as we hit the parking lot, I needed to pee. I spotted a bar and wanted to run in and pee. But the stadium was just two blocks away. I could hold it.

When we got to the stadium, I need to pee. I spotted a tree and almost took my dick out to pee right there, surrounded by people. But there was a cop nearby and didn’t. I could make it to the stadium.

The line was long. We were ready to go in.

And my dick… just gave up. My bladder told my brain fuck you. I need to pee. And it released. Trickle down pissenomics. A few droplets first. I tried to hold it. And nope. Couldn’t.

Just emptied a full tank in my pants surrounded by hundreds of people waiting to get to the Rockets and Lakers game.

My cousin couldn’t believe it. My brother freaked out because he thought I was wasted. I wasn’t. I guess I’m just getting old. Adult diapers… Here we go!!!

Or more like, listen to your fucking body and pee when you have to instead of holding it and risking it.

So what did I do next?

Fucking nothing.

We walked around the stadium. My brother wanted me to buy new pants. And then what? Carry the ones I have in a plastic bag. Peed pants? What about the underwear? Cuz… well I didn’t even manage to squeeze my dick out.

Nope. I just walked around the stadium with them. Told them to ignore it. Someone spilled a large beer in my pants. That’s what it was. Later, my cousin’s girlfriend told me that it was way worse if you saw me from the back… I’m glad I was oblivious to it.

I seriously just pretended nothing was wrong. My jeans were dark, but you could definitely tell I peed my pants if you look closely. But here’s the thing. NO ONE FUCKING DID. And if they did… then what?!

It’s not like in the nightmares that everyone turns around and points at you and makes fun of you. Nope. Nothing fucking happened. I thought security at the entrance would say something. Nope. And after that. We just got more beers. I wanted to spill one of those $12 on me just to actually be like “see, it’s beer! Not piss!” I didn’t.

Beers again were Karbach. And again, they were surprisingly well done. Clutch City lager for the Rockets and a Hopadillo (which I remember being garbage) were great!

Our seats were also great! We were around the 12th row!

I was just sitting there at the Toyota Center watching Simon Biles take the first shot with jeans filled with piss. They dried out by the second quarter and I had to pee again. So I did.

In the bathroom this time. And grabbed more beer.

By the end of the game, no one even remembered I peed my pants. I had to remind them that I did so…

We went back home and I went straight to the washer and dryer and to the shower.

The Rockets lost the game, but we saw LeBron James (I dislike him) dunk on some mother fuckers. And I have this story to tell.

Of how I pissed my pants surrounded by people… and nothing happened.

And now… Tinder date might read this, she will know what happened after. And how she avoided a dude that pisses her pants.

My other Tinder date shouldn’t read this. No one should read this. But the story is too funny not to tell.

Let’s end it with more beer notes. I drank a lot of beer. I ended up grabbing four on my last day there just for a YouTube video. I’m a fucking idiot and didn’t check the audio before recording. And well… It’s horrible. But I talk a lot about beer. Here it is:

Beers that I remember are the best beers. And I remember Holler Brewing the most. Experimental beers and regular beers, everything was fucking fantastic. And their kettle sour with passion fruit was top-notch sour beer.

I did a small tour with my cousins and my uncle. My uncle couldn’t believe how expensive beers were (they weren’t). We started at Platypus Brewing, a mix of Australia and Texas. Fair standard beers. Would definitely go again. Went to Holler after and that place was my favorite. The gang got hungry and we repeated Buffalo Bayou. We got a couple of pizzas. My uncle liked them a lot, but not the price. Everything was worth it. Uncle paid first round, I paid second, and my youngest cousin paid third.

I didn’t spend much money in Texas. The money I spent was on beer and on my date. The rest were family. Thanks, family. I can’t wait to go back.

We also got a bunch of canned beers for the house. Nothing impressed me much. SpindleTap’s hop gusher was the best, followed by Eureka Height’s “Mini-Boss” (a straight citra and mosaic beer). The rest of the canned beers were meh to not drinkable. I didn’t have a single good canned hazy beer. “Fresh Kicks” by the same Eureka Height’s was lacking bad. I also had Whole Foods Brewing Beers! Yes! It’s a thing! It was okay but they seem to going on the right direction. I mean, it’s fucking Whole Foods, they have the money to do beer right.

Ahhh shit!

My brother just texted me that he is coming back to Tijuana… I was ready for him back months ago and he left. I’m not ready for him anymore. This is going to be wild.

What a way to start 2022…

My Patreon is still a thing… and I owe my patrons some goodies. I will start sending them… life has just been fucking weird.

If you like me or my blog or my videos or pictures or whatever and want to support me… Please do so on Patreon. My drunk ass heavily appreciates it as I still don’t have a real income. Making it as an “artist” is not easy. Every $ is appreciated.


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