Immigrants Work Hard…Duuhhh!

I planted a tree this past Saturday. I shit you not. The wife and I volunteered to plant trees in Pomonuc Park in Queens. I always wanted to do something green especially after watching Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth. This was the first time in a long time that I actually did hard manual labor. The last time was probably when I was skinning chickens with my pops at the butcher shop. I could do it, I just put my back into it (word to Cube).

One of Yva's co-workers also attended. She ended up on a team of about 10 or more people, Yva and I were on a team of four including us. Her co-worker kept on telling us her team was going to out-tree ours. Umm ok. What she didn't know was that my team was chock-full of hardworking immigrants or immigrant offspring. It was myself and the wife (brown people with parents who speak English so broken you’d swear Fat Joe sat on it), Fernando (a Latino straight off the boat) and Yi (a Korean store owner, seriously). Shit all we needed was a Jamaican and we could’ve started and finished demolishing Shea Stadium. Some onlookers even thought we were just regular city workers because c’mon if you see a bunch of minorities digging up soil you’d think the same. We planted our first tree in no time. Why? Well, as any immigrant or their children will tell you it's in our genes—word hard or you will not survive. So next time I need to get my hands dirty I’m calling Fernando.

Uno,

Jesus

I Lost Weight Now my Wife is Idolizing Lorena Bobbit

I've been fighting the battle of the bulge since the second grade. And the mofo's been winning more often than not. It’s tough coming from a Latino family with all the delicious food my mom can whip up. As a child I was a plumper because I had extra helpings of her food not fast food…actually I probably didn’t have a Big Mac until my high school years. I was only in shape from 17 to 21 or so. Matter of fact I was kinds of diesel thanks to creatine and protein shakes (horrible way to create muscle). Well, I lost interest once my internships (career) became a priority. It got out of hand when I started dating the wife—you know what they say when you're happy and don't need to impress to get nalgas your gut expands. Well, I still want to impress the wife, of course, so in January I started doing Weight Watchers and so far I've lost 30 pounds. I know I got a long way to go but it’s a great start. Below are five things I noticed since I lost a Thanksgiving Day Turkey (to feed a Mormon family) from my body.

1. I don't sweat when I pick up a pencil or peel an orange (I keed of course, but I do sweat a lot…just not as much).

2. I have more energy...like a lot.

3. I attempted to wear Jim Jones (tight) jeans and they actually fit.

4. I'm addicted to 100 calorie snacks. But now I actually have one at a time.

5. My wife is practicing her Lorena Bobbit technique because the Boston Market girl flirted with yours truly. Pull, jerk and cut...right hun. Gulp!



Uno,

Jesús

NYC, Characters Not Welcome

To say New York City is full of interesting people would be the freakin’ understatement of the century. This weekend was evidence that New Yorkers aren’t just interesting but annoying, dumb, gentle, negative, and did I mention annoying. Below are some of the “characters” I encountered this weekend.

Mr. Chicken Wing
He was a hefty guy at the doctor’s small office …with two buckets of KFC and a four-month-old baby. He proceeds to eat said fried chicken and feeds his baby some fried bird as well. Oh, and it’s 11AM.

Mrs. Nosey
A Puerto Rican woman sitting in back of me in the doc’s office; she’s chatting on her cell phone. Her topic: The fat guy feeding fried chicken to his baby. She tells her friend in Spanish, “He must be at least 300 pounds…he looks like a whale…oh my Lord he’s feeding that baby fried chicken.” She spoke low enough so only the people in front of her could hear…I mean she didn’t want to cause a scene.

Chatty McGee
She’s my dad’s home health aid on the weekends. My father had to be taken to the hospital because he was dehydrated (he’s good though). Well, on the way to the hospital Lizbeth (who would make Gilbert Godfried a joy to be around) asks me what “pipe” means in English. I respond, all the while concerned with about my father, and she says laughing, “In my country that’s a man’s genitals.” Great!

Dr. Happy
The doctor assigned to my pops was the kindest physician I’ve ever met in an ER. Nice, informative and an overall sweetheart.

The Orderly
I simply couldn’t understand her. She comes into my father’s room and talked gibberish. Then she proceeds to move him to another room. “TJKGJTFHJFJHGJG” is what she said.

The Shitter
He was in the room next to my pop. He was coughing up a lung, reeking of urine and eventually feces. Turns out he shitted on himself and we had the luck of being there in the front row.

The Nasty Nurse
After the nonsensical orderly moved my father into the same room where the shitter was only minutes ago I asked the nurse to move him. She coldly said, “No.” Think Little Britain USA (see below). My wife then proceeded to wish bodily harm on her.

The Clerk
And to bring it home for the weekend we have the South American supermarket clerk with the lazy eyes. On Sunday, we hit up Key Food and my wife made a new friend. As the clerk began scanning our food she also began to chat my wife up about her poodle. “The poodle is so perrty, my uncle gonna have to pay for her to get operated. She perrty…and pregnant.” The customer behind us began clutching her fists because LES (Lazy Eyes) is taking her time. She finally finishes scanning all the food and then messes it up with a Key Food gift card. Once she fucks up she runs away to get her manager. Her pissed off manager comes over and fixes the register. The closer: As we’re leaving LES screams out to a fellow co-worker, “Pirullo…yo me voy a las ocho!”

Uno,

Jesus

I Think Slumdog Millionaire Made Me Racist

I say this because ever since I saw Slumdog Millionaire a few months back, every time I see a young Indian couple I think of the movie. Perhaps it’s just an innocent image association thing my mind plays on me. The fairy tale-ending flick (with the ill Bollywood dance number closer) has infiltrated my mind the same way City of God did. Even though I would love to travel to Brazil, there’s something in my mind that says, “Watch out for those favelas! It ain’t like any barrio U.S.A!”

In retrospect, one of Slumdog’s goals was probably to provide a positive image for India and its people. If I think of Jamal and Latika dancing in the middle of a train platform every time I see an Indian couple is it that bad? Who knows what they think when they see me? Perhaps, they view me as a drug dealing illegal immigrant who doesn’t speak English. Hmmm…I’ll go with the dancing number.

Uno,

Jesus

The Case of the Teflon Pan

One of things I love/hate about marriage is the ridiculous mini fights. After a long day of work the exact words I want to hear on the other end of the phone are, "Why did you use the metal spatula on the pan?" Really? She continues, "You have to use the wooden spoon on that one...it's our only Teflon pan." Really? "This is the third time!" Really? It's a pan. Who gives a fruck? Apparently my wife does and she wants to make sure she keeps her Teflon pan scratch-free. What can you do in instances like this? I laughed it off because a) I’ll probably do it again and b) she’s really tired from work and will probably forget it. So the next time your girl/wife screams at you over a something ridiculous just smile and keep it moving. You might get a nice meal out of it…I did.

Uno,

Jesus

25 Things You Should Know About My Wife

OK so I'm jumping on Facebook's “25 things you should know about me” bandwagon . . . but I'm doing it with a twist. Rather than bore you with my facts, I'll list 25 things you should know about my wife. She’s prettier.

1. She's adorable, beautiful, sexy, etc.
2. She's my wife. Sorry ladies I'm taken (word to TG)
3. She dated losers in the past. I'm assuming.
4. She's extremely close to her sister Diana. Like extremely.
5. During her Hofstra years she was known as Yva the Diva on her radio show.
6. She was a radio personality on Long Island's WBLI.
7. She has three little brothers…who aren’t little anymore.
8. Her favorite movie is Clueless.
9. She thinks Paul Pierce is a flopper and therefore hates him.
10. She loves my mom's food.
11. She has a crush on Manolo Cardona, a Colombian soap actor.
12. She has perfect dimples.
13. She was an Angie Martinez fan. Thanks to Angie & DJ Enuff we met.
14. She can't watch horror flicks. She made me walk out of The Hills Have Eyes.
15. Her two best friends moved away and she misses them everyday. Adri in Miami and Pris in San Diego.
16. She thinks her cuz Teji is mad smart....she is.
17. She supports everything I do.
18. She's always late (see Glamour Magazine later this year).
19. She always gets complimented on her curly locks.
20. 90% of the time she sings when we play Rock Band
21. She loves White Zinfandel
22. She has great fashion sense
23. She's always smiling and has great teeth. She actually considered being a dentist.
24. She loves pop music. As far as rap, she's really into Game and Weezy right now but she is so not hip-hop.
25. It's her birthday tomorrow. Bonus: Aquarius and Gemini have great chemistry (word to Walter Mercado).
And one for good luck: 26. I love her with all my heart and vice versa.

I could go one but I wouldn’t want y’all to puke.

Uno,

Jesus

Dream Job Deterred: Bikini-Clad Latina Cannot Serve Beer

As I was perusing the New York newspaper sites this headline: “Former Hooters girl Melody Morales sues Hawaiian Tropic Zone for discrimination,” caught my eye. I didn’t click on it for the obvious (Hooters) but for the last name; I mean I gotta see what’s up with mi gente, right? Well, much to my chagrin it wasn’t the story I was looking for; not to say that she has no right to sue anyone but it’s the damn quotes coming out of her mouth. UGGH! Before I go further, she says she was discriminated because of her accent which is foul but again check the quotes below. Also, the Tropics manager isn’t a genius either.

“The lawsuit says Morales went with her mother to the restaurant in March 2008 in search of a job. But the suit claims she was told to get lost by a manager, who said, ‘I am not going to ruin my business with your Latin accent.’”
Don’t Latinas with accents have men putty in their hands?

“Morales, who said her dream job is to pour drinks while strutting her stuff in a bikini, returned to the Hawaiian Tropic Zone months later still in pursuit of a position.”
Really? WTF? Not I want to go to college or get my Barack on and do community service?

"They never even looked at me in a bikini," she whimpered.
This sounds like a scene from a Skinemax flick.

A lawyer for the Riese Organization, which operates the Hawaiian Tropic Zone, said the suit is "without merit." "We are proud of the many Latino and Latina employees in our diverse workforce," said James Rosenzweig.
What he meant to say was we’re proud of all the illegal immigrants in the kitchen.

"It was kind of like my dream to work at the [Hawaiian Tropic Zone]," she said. "It's the bikini, I guess.
Again SMH!

Uno,

Jesus
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