Where’s Your Wife?

Can you be too married? Shoot, can you be too single? Last night I went to an industry event sans the wife. It’s a shocker I know but she lets me breathe when necessary. She’s gone to brunches, pillow fights and whatever else women do for dolo. It's funny because it felt like she was with me anyway. People either asked me, “How's married life?” or “Where's the wife?” I didn't mind at all. To the new peeps I even told them how we met.

But when you're married it's good to chill alone sometimes. Don't lose your identity. When we were dating I couldn't wait to see her because a) we were falling in love and b) she was in LI and I was in BK. Now that we're hitched I love waking up to her but know she'll be there when I get home. Some of my single friends lament over not finding the right chick but still hit more butt than ashtray (R.I.P. Biggie). I’m no expert on this marriage thing but all jokes aside you first have to be an individual to be part of a union.

Uno,

Jesús

Ayo, Where You Live At?

BK Girl: Foxy Brown.

Even though I write for a living my wife, at times, speaks better than me. The Brooklyn in me sometimes pops out and says, “Oh! What up? Yo! Over here, b!, etc.” But hey I can’t help it. I write better than I speak and such is the case for a lot scribes. Even my ol’ college professor, Juan Gonzalez (NY Daily News columnist), is a killer with the pen but silent without it.

Which brings me to the following incident; my wife and I took my pops to the doctor for a check-up. After he meets with the doctor we speak to the receptionist to get info regarding specialists. The girl goes, “Where he live at?” My wife goes, “Excuse me what?” The girl again goes, “Where he live at?” I say, “A couple of blocks from here.” Only later does my wife tell me that she purposely asked what she said because she said it incorrectly. I didn’t see the difference. You see, the girl and I were speaking Brooklynese and my wife is an outsider aka Queens Girl. Is there some slang you use that confuses others, yo?

Uno,

Jesús

The Real World Gets Gully…Sorta

The powers that be at Viacom have green lit the 21st season of The Real World. Sounds like great news until I read the city where it’s being filmed. Yep, folks, it’s BK, home of Biggie and Jay. It’s not that Brooklyn isn’t a good fit for the pioneering reality series but it’s that I have a feeling MTV is not going to show the real BK where real Brooklynites live. My guess is that Williamsburg is on top of the list where New Yorkers who were born in New Hampshire and Kansas will be their neighbors.

If they really wanted to stay true to their title they’d take a page from Chappelle and keep it mad real. Imagine one Latino from Cali, one Latina from Miami, a black guy from ATL, a black girl from the Chi, a white girl from Kansas, an Italian dude from the Hurst and an Asian cat for good balance. They’d all shack up in Bushwick—the real one where Omar lives—and be given the same jobs the locals have (bodegueros, Foot Locker employees, etc.) That would be real…mad real. Will MTV stay true to BK? What do y’all think?

Uno,

Jesus

Cinco De Mayo Is Here & I Don’t Care

You know what today is for me? The start of the work week; Monday, the first day away from GTA IV. But for mejicanos, frat boys and Sex and the City fans it’s time to drink it up for Cinco de Mayo. Truth be told I could give a flying fluck. My roots are Inca and I love me some cumbia but from La Sonora Dinamita. No disrespect to my Mexican homies because they’re not the ones perpetrating it’s some of these non-Latinos. Drinking margaritas and screaming, “Arriba!” It’s like St. Patty’s Day Part Duh.

I’m not down with celebrating with something that is not me. I remember in my junior year in high school I dated a Puerto Rican chick. The Puerto Rican Day Parade was fast approaching and she wanted me to go. I said, “Nah. Ethnic parades are kinda suspect. If you’re a girl you’re bound to get felt-up and if you’re a dude you're bound to get in a fight.” I didn’t go but one of my non-Puerto Rican boys did. I’m not saying you should only attend parades that represent you but don’t go and start waving a PR flag if you’re Jamaican or Mexican or Diddy. So in closing props on celebrating la Batalla de Puebla to my Aztec friends and booo to those who just find it as an excuse to get shit-faced and blurt out stereotypical lines lines “Si señor.” Would you celebrate an ethnic holiday that doesn’t rep you?

Uno,

Jesus

Karl Malone Is Not A Man

I've been NBA-crazed lately with the playoffs and all the excitement that comes with it. Surfing slamonline (shout out to Ben O.) I saw a hyperlinked headline about Karl Malone. Apparently the Utah Jazz legend had a bunch of kids out of wedlock. It's not surprising that an athlete sprayed his seed like an automatic weapon but coming from Malone, who in his heyday was as clean cut as Steve Carell, it was rather surprising. He took better care of John Stockton. In either case Malone fathered Demetrius Bell, a recent seventh round pick of the Buffalo Bills.

Allen Wilson, the writer of the piece in the Buffalo News, wrote that Bell first met Malone after he graduated high school. By then Wilson writes, Malone told Bell it was too late to be his dad and he'd have to earn his own dinero. Whoa, what a scumbag. Did I mention that Bell's mom was 13 when Malone, a college sophomore at the time, impregnated her? Asshole. Thinking back on my dad he was a gem next to the Mailman. Yes, he downed too many drinks in his day, he wasn't emotionally available (man up, son), and other discrepancies I’d rather not mention. But I always had a roof over my head and all the essentials a kid in the barrio needs. Even when I got my first decent gig and didn't need him financially he'd slip me a $20. I doubt the Mailman delivered anything to his son aside from pain. Now you begin to see why a Hall of Famer like Malone never won an NBA championship. Karma's a mutha. What do you think?

See complete story here.

Uno,

Jesús

Tossin’ & Turnin’

This past weekend I was single again. And I felt awkward without mi media naranja. Yes, I chilled with my boy Rony, who I haven’t seen in a long ass minute and yes, I took my parents out to a nice dinner. But when I was inactive and vegetating on the couch watching the NBA playoffs I missed my wife’s voice in the background. “Why do they shoot behind that line? Did they score a touchdown?” Hmmm, well maybe I didn’t miss her while Philly was shocking the Pistons.

But it was a different story once I settled into bed on Sunday night. I was tossing and turning. I put some pillows next to me to pretend there was a body. Nada. It didn’t help there was a cat in heat outside, meowing like it was being violated by Dirk Diggler. I finally dozed off around 5AM. Got up in a couple of hours, wiped the cold out my eyes and went off groggy to work. Last night my wife came home from her mini vacation; she showed me her pictures (she had more pics with her best friend’s dog than her best friend…go figure). Next thing you know I’m sound asleep. Am I being too dependent on her or do I just need any warm body next to me to fall asleep? How do you feel when you’re away from you’re spouse or gf/bf?

Uno,

Jesus

Viva Stereotypes!

So I watched the first episode of VH1's Viva Hollywood last night and boy is my culture offended! First off, after some thought, the title is incorrect. The only big success story from the telenovela scene is Salma Hayek, according to ma dukes. Even the Golden Girl host of VH, Maria Conchita Alonso, had mild success in the States. It’s a pipe dream.

On to the show; I believe 10 out of the 12 contestants had accents and yes walking stereotypes (word to Chingo Bling, Charo). This one cat named Berto, after telling the camera he’d lay pipe to Maria’s cobwebby Conchita, says he’s been with his girl for 10 years. He also says he’s a very sexual person. Then later that night he proceeds to swap bodily fluids with some chick named Gisel. Ahhh that’s why he doesn’t marry his girl because he a Latin Lover! Oh it doesn’t stop there! When voting contestants off, they must go into “the chapel” and use a tarot card “La Muerte” to cast their vote. Christianity and Santeria! Oh joy! There’s more but the racism is just killing me inside (word to Chappelle). Now I understand when my homes Carl told me he couldn’t stand to watch an I Love New York episode. I thought it was hilarious; he just thought it was sad. What did you think of the first episode?

Paz,

Jesús