So this is the deal, this is where I go on about how GLAD I am that my man is back in town.

This is the thing, the dynamic in the house completely changes when he is gone. Reza and I are like oil and water a lot of the times and when Josh is gone, forget it. Needless to say I had a very shitty three days with her cause not only did she get sick but she goes the way of rude, defiance and for lack of better terms, turns into a demanding little shit. I try with her in every angle and there is no phasing her. Right now her universe is her Daddy and seeing how angelic she became the minute we got in the car to go to the airport made it clearly apparent.

Anyway, Daddy is home and Mom can finally fucking breathe. A little. I don’t expect people to understand how Josh and I work together but he is complimentary to me in every way and when he is gone, my world just isn’t the same. I know what you’re thinking… “HELLLLOOOO CO-DEPENDENT” and that is all fine and good. I can’t help it that I actually like and love the person I married. Some people do drugs, drink or take meds to find balance in their chi. I don’t do any of those things, the one thing I want is my husband. The dude is better than any mind altering substance, he is my Prozac and his presence is a cool breeze through the house when I open the window.

I was so effin stressed out with him gone cause I feel like I did nothing but yell and bicker with the four year old… to the point that my eye started twitching. Ridiculous yes? I get really effin stressed and anxious. My eye has not twitched once since he got home. That is how good he is.

I am however sad that as soon as he gets home, he has to take off AGAIN… this time for yet another job interview.

And dammit, I think I need to go get my eyeballs checked. I have never needed glasses but I think it may be getting to that point. Thankfully I look cute in glasses cause there is no way I am going to be able to deal with putting flimsy, slimy shit in my eyeballs. Maybe Josh can now fulfill his lifelong dream to bang a chick in glasses. Hey, there is a silver lining after all.

wall of shame

Some people would equate being 36 as being old. I prefer the term “wise”. Now, wisdom does come over the years and a lot of it is solely based on embarrassing times and horrible lapses of judgment. I usually like to keep the skeletons at bay but now, this is where I unload the horror, the wall of shame!

You ready for this? I am!

My sisters give me endless shit about the fact that as a small child I liked country music. I couldn’t tell you much about this time other than I loved Kenny Rogers. To this day they bust my balls about it and the only thing I can tell you about him is he has bad plastic surgery and I have a vague recollection of KFC something. Country music. THE SHAME. So when you see me toting about my love of IDM, post rock and all other intelligent music forms, you will now know that I started at the bottom of the musical barrel. I am so glad I have evolved.

When I was in elementary school, I stole a sticker book from someone’s backpack at Ups N Downs roller rink. I was a sticker collecting NUT, to the point of theft, I blame it on my Mexican genes. I never told anyone this story.

When I was a kid, my guess is I was 8-9, I wrote a fan letter to David Hasslehoff. Look, Knight Rider was at the peak of its prime! So I wrote him a letter. I never got around to sending it cause you know, kids have so many stamps in their purse. The horror came when my Mother discovered it… not only was it clad with lipstick smeared lip prints, but also entailed telling the Hoff I wanted him to be the father of my babies. What came next is a blur, probably cause there was some senseless ass whooping. (that was a joke btw)

One time I went bowling and thought I was a total bad ass. There were a bunch of boys a few lanes over and like any stupid, boy crazy teenager, I thought I would show off. I stepped past the line and I fell on my ass, bowling ball and all. Holy shit that was some embarrassment. The lesson here is: If you have to act like you are cool, you are not cool.

As a teenager I loved reading horrible teeny bopper magazines. Bop, Teen Beat or some malarkey like that. I clearly remember fawning all over Corey Haim, Kirk Cameron (did you know he went totally god squad?!), Corey Feldman and god knows what other mongoloids. Oh, and Johnny Depp.. Some things *never* change. The piece de resistance came when I purchased a large door poster of a shirtless, greasy, Dolph Lundgren. Looked something like this but he was in jeans and even greasier. It did not help my cause that years down the road I made friends with a girl that was OBSESSED with Sylvester Stallone. I proceeded to sit many summers at her house watching Rocky IV on repeat which did not help with the Dolph love, I dreamt of him saying, “I weeeel break chooooo”.

Have you started to see the pattern here? Most of my embarrassing behavior revolves around men and lord it does not get better.

I went through a phase where I liked the NKOTB. My favorite? DANNY, aka, the ugliest mofo of the bunch.

Then came the era of MTV and my exposure to “those long hairs” as my mom used to call them. All of a sudden I am living in Mexico and my bedroom TV is being pumped full of videos that opened my eyes in ways that to this day I have not been able to recover. The hair metal bands, Janes Addiction, NIN and my true, teenage love of all time: Sebastian Bach. I was obsessed, clipping every photo of him out of Metal Mania and keeping them… I even cried when Kurt Loder or some other MTV vee-jay announced he got married. CRIED! The horror. But could you blame me? He was beautiful!! Long hairs, tight leather pants and all. And yes, I read his facebook page that he updates regularly. Once a fan, always a fan.

Subsequently can I tell you how JEALOUS I am of today’s generation that they have facebook and twitter and how they can actually interact with the people they worship? NO FAIR.

I broke up with a guy when I was in high school. Enter me lying around, moping, crying and listening to Def-Leppard’s “love bites” on repeat.

And on one final note, I share the horrors of the wall of shame… the dirty list of the class of guys, losers and morons I have had the *honor* (sarcasm) of dating and/or hooking up with. (names spared to protect the not so innocent)

How about we start with…

The guy that lived in his moms dance studio, in a back room. He had the dick the size of my finger. I wouldn’t sleep with him. Small penis man go hulk smash.

The guy who had a thing for wearing womens underwear. “Hey Nena, stop chewing on that!”. Oh wait, that thong Is. Not. Mine.

The guy who lived with his mom, who wore pressed powder but was too embarrassed to carry around his MAC compact and would ask me to put it in my purse, whose idea of great date was to take me to his friends house to smoke speed and drink Night Train (and didn’t offer!! ROFL), who was OBSESSED with wanting to fondle my feet. How I continued seeing him was beyond me. Hey, the sex was good! Men are not the only ones that lower their standards for the sake of a good toss up.

The guy whose idea of a great date involved my coming over to his place to watch basketball, watch him roll blunts and then getting mad cause I wouldn’t sleep with him.

The Marine boy from the Midwest that kissed like a tongue ninja (*gag*) and didn’t know what pesto was. Sadly enough, the pesto part was the deal breaker.

And these are just the more ridiculous stories. There are more but these are the notables. Amazing what naive-ness, inexperience and shitty self esteem will make you do.

( Can I tell you how glad I am that I am married? Wow.)

So there, I spilled it. I am sure there are more horror stories for the wall of shame and if I think of them, they will certainly go here.

You got anything to share? Want to confess something from your wall of shame? Now is your chance!!


As Reza got out of her bath this evening, I held up two clean chonies (underwear) for her…

In one hand I had some pink skull and crossbone print, in the other, The Little Mermaid.

I ask her, “Reza, which would one would you like to wear?”.

She pipes up, “the skeletons”.

Josh and I both look at one another and at the exact same time we both say, “That’s my girl”.

shutting down

Last week was intense. I had so much stuff going on, my phone was blowing up like a phone sex line and for lack of better analogies, I was busy. Busier than I like to be. Not that I couldn’t pull off a phone sex line but that is another post within itself.

So this week, I am avoiding phone calls, letting things go to voice mail and when I am ready, I will get back to it. Don’t get all butt hurt. I just need something to be on my terms for a little bit.

I need a break to focus my energy on ME. My routine is totally disheveled and well, so am I. I saw some pix of me from this weekend and needless to say I was not happy with what I saw. I know we are all our worst critics and I am not unloading this business here to fish for compliments. If you know me well enough, you know I don’t take compliments very well. So either I wallow or get my ass in gear cause I REFUSE to be where I was a year ago. F to the No.

I went to yoga today and I really wish yoga teachers could play better music. I don’t mind the Hindu chanting type stuff, ambient soundscapes, a WHOLE class to Sigur Ros (!! awesome) but where they totally KILL ME is when they have the folky guitar crap. Blues Traveler is not music to get zen to pendejas! Talk about a buzz kill.

And while I unload yet another disjointed assed post….

Not sure how I managed to avoid posting this here but… well, I won’t lie, I got all caught up on facebook and instantaneously assume everyone here reads there and so forth.

Anyway, I collaborate with some friends over at Cup Kozy for their limited edition designs. So far I have done Dia De Los Muertos (Day Of The Dead for you gringos) and Earth Day. I have always wanted to do a Valentine’s Day design and finally had the chance. You know, it only happens once a year and all. I delivered it a bit ago and dude… DUDE! I am soooo stoked to with this one. I hate to sound all full of myself but sometimes you hash out art that is eh and then there is the stuff you absolutely love. This happens to be one of the “I heart it a lot” pieces, at least for me. Here is a sneak peak….I plan on posting a full version of it once they have it screened in color and all that shiz. I have a feeling it will be a nice seller for them and another pretty piece for my portfolio. And yes, I fully expect you to buy one cause I am shameless.

On that note I gotta bounce. I got a birthday to celebrate.

Happy birthday Bee, I love you! I miss you and Japan is so lucky to have you.
And, well, Happy Birthday Spencer, you are the twist of lime in our gin n’ tonic.

Don’t call my name, Don’t call my name, Roberto…

the end of an era…

I promised myself I was not going to go on about it, that last night I was going to put it to rest and move forward.. and I am. I will, but despite the fact I had nothing to drink last night, I am suffering from a hangover, an emotional hangover and writing about it is my glass of water and Advil… and a burrito, cause a nice serving of Mexican food always cures the soul, at least around these parts. 😉

Yesterday we did our thing and attended his memorial, almost an entire day. The last hurrah, a place where all his friends, family and droves of lives he touched could gather and celebrate this amazing person that somehow managed to bring us all together. All walks of life.

I had one a many moments last night where, despite my efforts to hold it in, I broke down into tears. Once with Rich, one with Betty (his mother) and one standing alone, in front of the altar I contributed to for him. You think you are done and then you break one more time. At one point, I watched my daughter walk up to his cardboard cutout, wrapped her arms around his legs and kissed it… and I lost it. I think about how awesome he was to me, my family and how I always felt that one day he would be the most awesome of patriarchs to his own… and he never got that chance. This is where I turn into Amelie Poulain, she turns into water and falls to the floor in one giant splash.

I have been referring to Kevin as “the glue”. Amongst many of the roles he took on, he was the person that brought us all together. He was the head of our United and Not So United Nations. He was like Disneyland, a place where we can all go, have fun, play and be ourselves. And now what happens when the glue is gone?

Now that he has been sent off, I am seeing what is happening to those of us that surrounded him and were left behind. It fills me to see all of my friends giving each other love, dropping messages of gratitude and thankfulness, strangers consoling one another, people who never said those three words to one another are all of a sudden saying it without fear of judgment. The fact that even in his absence, he brought people together… rekindled broken friendships, made the tight ones tighter and established new ones is a true testament to the kind of person he was.

An era is over for a lot of us. He left us with a strong and powerful message, a zip file full of perspective, paying attention and honoring ones self and most of all, living… So the question is, what are you going to do with the information he left behind? I know what I am going to do. I am going to unzip.

I asked his Mother last night, “Betty, what did you do to make him the person he was?”, cause you know, from a Mother to Mother, you got to know what the secret is…

“We did the best we could, it is all you can do”.

Spoken like a true pro.

Adios Compadre y Hermano. Viva El Guapo!!

[amazing art by the ever talented Rich Black]


Well my portion of labor came to a close yesterday. For the past few days I took on the always laborious task of making sugar skulls, this time for Kevin Workman’s memorial which will be tomorrow. It was an intense amount of labor for me and unlike my previous rounds of sugar skull pressing, this was the first time I made them with intention to honor and revere a dearly departed friend.

Josh and Reza had left the house for a couple hours and I was left to my own devices so I could have the kitchen all to myself. The space was necessary… I threw on The National’s “High Violet” and went to town on icing these bad boys. When “Sorrow” came on… Sympathy, cause I don’t want to get over you… I don’t want to get over you…

I didn’t think that it would be so emotional, I mean, who cries while crafting?! This girl. Maybe it was the combination of the music and the intentions, the pain in my hands, the smears of icing colors all over my fingers and hands… it was a labor of love and I lost it.

It’s just the fact that Kevin’s passing has been looming over me, over everyone and the loss and absence is unmeasurable. The fact his memorial is around the corner, it’s like the final farewell before we can all move forward in healing our hearts and remembering with fondness, without feeling like we just got speared in the chest. I am ready to move onward and upward, to live the life he would want me to, a life that he led but was so unreasonably cut short for him.

At least that is the way it is for me and I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not alone.

The National – Sorrow

A post in which I come off like a self righteous bitch… woohoo!

So for the past couple of weeks, I have been catching myself reading peoples facebook posts, live journals, tumblr, random blogs on the net, etc. I open a comment box and just as I am about to hit submit I stop myself. You know the whole saying “if you aren’t going to say something nice, better to not say anything at all”? Yeah. I stop myself. I like to help people out but a lot of the times, I find myself doing nothing but dishing out advice and those people do nothing but take my advice and use it as mental floss. Or continue doing the same shit and here we are, years later… you, doing the same shit and complaining about it. Wasted energy.

Most of the time I try to keep a lot to myself, in fact there are things I could unleash right about now: heavy, deep rooted shit (about myself, don’t jump to conclusions now). But you know, the only thing it will do is help me absolve myself from it and then it is out there in the universe for everyone and their mother to judge you. It’s true, don’t act like you don’t know what I am talking about. You do it too.

The things some people whine about are just, astonishing. I am not exempt, oh no I am not… I was a big, bitchy baby over that gnarly upper respiratory infection. In fact, I am having a hard time holding it together cause it seems that life has been doing nothing but serving me and my family steaming piles of shit on a platter. But you know, I have to make the effort and not be a fucking whiner about it. I need to refrain from unleashing my complaints about shit cause someone is out there looking at it thinking, “this bitch”. I really can’t complain about a lot of things. I mean jesus, here I am at home with my family, in 80 degree weather (in JANUARY!), healthier than I was a week ago. Shit…. the life yo! and yes, things can always be better but man, I got to start looking at shit on the brighter side cause this “glass is half empty” angle is exhausting.

There are people out there that would happily trade their problems for the things that make me feel like the world is coming down on me. My point is, I am making a mountain over a speed bump and a lot of people out there, if the shoe fits, then so are you.

I think that is gonna be my next tattoo, I am gonna get the word “perspective” written on my wrist, so just when I think my first world problems are so monumental, I can look down and remind myself that it could always be worse, that I need to have a little bit more gratitude cause fuck me if I am gonna be one of those people who do nothing but complain about shit.

And that is all I am going to say about that.