I spent New Year’s Eve with a bunch of cumbia-loving Colombians. The wife, her fam and I attended a party in Queens which included food, an orchestra and a multitude of underdressed cougars. It was fun to get out of the routine of eating food and getting a blessing from the ‘rents (which I still got via phone). Even though the food was included in the cover price the liquor wasn’t so I pulled a ‘hood move and brought in a bottle of booze (I was checked at the door by a blind man). After a decent meal and a couple of shots of Tequila we turned our attention to my bro-in-laws. The oldest one Stephen was looking dapper, pause, and getting his game on like he was back in DR.
His game didn’t go live until he was buzzed but it was on overdrive once he was on. He was stopped by one of, as my wife called them, the Housewives of Jackson Heights and she proceeded to lay her botoxy nalgas on young’un. They were both easy prey—he’s days away from being 18 and she was hours away from celebrating her 18th botox injection. She was rolling with two other (lame) cougars who I assumed were married to either a travel agency/wire service store owner or a drug dealer or restaurateur who was funded by drugs. Oh stereotypes among Latinos! You gotta love it! By the end of the night Stevie got some digits and Julio (their friend) got the digits of a girl whose mom was a man-mom (he-she’s face was rougher than Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler). At midnight I got many kisses from my bella and thanked God for my life. 2009 will be even better than the last 365 days.
Happy & Prosperous 2009!
Jesus
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