cinco de mayo
If California was sold back to Mexico, I'd be okay with it. I've always wanted to learn Spanish anyway. Unfortunately, these things aren't up to me, and I'm still an American citizen. Still, I find no reason for me not to take full advantage of the Golden State's, which is now my home's, cultural cross-pollenizing.
I got a call at work. My roommate said she'd be making enchiladas for Cinco de Mayo, and that she'd like me to be there for dinner. I'd never even been to Taco Bell before I moved out to California, and the first thing I do when I return after visiting my family back east is hit up a taqueria and devour a pound and a half of carne asada burrito bliss. Clearly, there would be nothing keeping me from making dinner. Free home made Mexican food? Did you have to ask? It's like my reason for being. My roommate is not of Mexican descent, however. In fact, she's one of the palest people I know (and I say that out of love), but she said she had a good recipe. And she certainly wasn't lying. My other roommate had a bunch of his actor friends over, and I knocked back shots of Sauza while they passed around a blunt wrapped in watermelon-flavored paper.
It'd been a long day. I'd almost gotten caught up from the time I missed as a result of the trip to San Francisco. Most of my catching up involved checking in on my fantasy baseball team, which is doing extremely poorly, by the way, and drooling over the picture R sent me--when no one else was looking of course--because she likes to torture me at work. But I did get plenty of stuff done, including setting up an interview I'm supposed to conduct tomorrow at 1pm. An interview I should have been preparing for instead of fraternizing with tequila. But I have all morning for that. And I have all weekend to write the article I should be writing right now. All weekend at the office, because that's where I'll be so we can make another deadline (I'm pretty good at procrastination myself, Bookfraud).
But I can write articles I couldn't care less about all the time. How often can I celebrate the independence of a country I have absolutely no ties to? Just once a year. Do the math.
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Special thanks to Arular by M.I.A. for injecting a good deal of audible lust into an otherwise boring day.
I got a call at work. My roommate said she'd be making enchiladas for Cinco de Mayo, and that she'd like me to be there for dinner. I'd never even been to Taco Bell before I moved out to California, and the first thing I do when I return after visiting my family back east is hit up a taqueria and devour a pound and a half of carne asada burrito bliss. Clearly, there would be nothing keeping me from making dinner. Free home made Mexican food? Did you have to ask? It's like my reason for being. My roommate is not of Mexican descent, however. In fact, she's one of the palest people I know (and I say that out of love), but she said she had a good recipe. And she certainly wasn't lying. My other roommate had a bunch of his actor friends over, and I knocked back shots of Sauza while they passed around a blunt wrapped in watermelon-flavored paper.
It'd been a long day. I'd almost gotten caught up from the time I missed as a result of the trip to San Francisco. Most of my catching up involved checking in on my fantasy baseball team, which is doing extremely poorly, by the way, and drooling over the picture R sent me--when no one else was looking of course--because she likes to torture me at work. But I did get plenty of stuff done, including setting up an interview I'm supposed to conduct tomorrow at 1pm. An interview I should have been preparing for instead of fraternizing with tequila. But I have all morning for that. And I have all weekend to write the article I should be writing right now. All weekend at the office, because that's where I'll be so we can make another deadline (I'm pretty good at procrastination myself, Bookfraud).
But I can write articles I couldn't care less about all the time. How often can I celebrate the independence of a country I have absolutely no ties to? Just once a year. Do the math.
---
Special thanks to Arular by M.I.A. for injecting a good deal of audible lust into an otherwise boring day.
4 comments:
She can't be paler than me! I blend into white walls! Or I would if I wore less black clothing..
procrastinating at work? dreaming of a liquor-fueled weekend? not writing an article you don't give a shit about? feh. i wouldn't know about that.
by the way, what kinda magazine do you work for? just asking.
bookfraud: haha...i thought you might be able to relate. i work for a local entertainment publication, but we're going national later this year, which has been exciting and frightening at the same time. however, i pay the bills working for a couple of other different types of magazines.
alexa: it's true...it's just another reason to let loose. i used to share your bias against tequila; however, i've found that it gives me the silliest, happiest drunk i've ever experienced. i try not to do it too much, though--only on special occasions--because it can really kick you in the ass if you're not paying attention.
I bet you don't drink the tequila with the "worm" in the bottle!
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