I Walked a Marathon, Really I Did

Hello personal blog, it's been a while. Since we last met I freakin’ walked (easy with the running, I'm still chubby) a marathon. Even better the marathon was the Avon Breast Cancer Walk. Here are a couple of things I learned the day of the walk.

1. Men don't really participate. I was definitely a minority within a minority within a minority—a Latin guy named Jesús. It felt like I was walking with the cast of Big Love.

2. In physical challenges I need extra motivation. If it weren't for the wife I would have quit by mile 10.

3. I hate blisters but my favorite one is the one on my right foot; it's shaped like Louisiana.

Uno,

Jesus

PS: If you haven't donated yet, there's still time! Go here! Thank you!

Should I Run For The Border?

As part of our training for the Avon Breast Cancer Walk (donate here if you can) in October my wife and I completed a 5K run across the Brooklyn Bridge this past Sunday. We ran it in the pouring NYC rain and the sticky NYC humidity. As we reached the end there were a lot of well-wishers saying, "You're almost there," "way to go" etc. As we pass by a group of people a lady screams out "run for the border!" WTF?

Was it because we were a Latino couple? Was it because I was rocking a Home Depot vest? Was it because my wife's hoop earrings were hitting her in her face? Or was it simply because it was pouring and our backs were wet? Maybe she was really torn up over the Taco Bell Chihuahua dying? Or was it just a quick racial stab thrown at a chubby couple too tired to fight back?

Uno,

Jesus

650-lb Virgin Has Hamburger!

Nowadays my appetite for cable TV has tripled. I'm not only watching guilty pleasures like Bad Girls Club but I'm also including various docs in my viewing diet. This past Sunday I caught TLC's 650-lb Virgin…yes, I know those two words go hand-in-hand. A couple of things I took away from it: a) good thing I'm losing weight, b) you know you're obese when your genital area looks like a huge flesh hamburger bun (extra sack up top and his bolas below) and you have to pull out your penis with tweezers in order to take a whiz. Yikes. The doc follows David Smith on his journey from obese man to blossoming personal trainer.

Smith is freaked out by his package's extra package so just imagine whipping that out in front a woman. Still, there are a ton of freaks out there and I wouldn't be surprised if one of them wouldn't take it for whirl…or at least flick at it. Smith is now beginning his career as a personal trainer. Yes, he isn't as diesel as your regular PT and yes after flab reduction surgery his nipples are on his ribcage area. But there’s one thing he can do the others probably can't—he can say I was there before. He’s got the package to prove it.

Uno,

Jesus

NY Yankee Baseball = Grey’s Anatomy

Grey's Anatomy is consuming my wife and her BFF Pris. Pris and Oz were in town from sunny San Diego so we decided to go to the new Yankee (gag) Stadium and watch A-Rod walk three times. Even though the wives were entertained their convo mainly focused on the Grey season finale. They were even spotted on the Jumbotron and didn't realize it because Izzy is on her death bed aka the writers are killing her off because Katherine Heigal is a dbag. But I started thinking (mind you I'm a Met fan) that Yankee baseball and Grey's Anatomy are quite similar. See below.

Derek Jeter is a combination of McDreamy and McSteamy: Jeter is a fan fave who is the consummate pro. Yet, he has scumbag tendencies like McSteamy because he dips his pen in a lot, a lot of ink.

Token Asians: Hideki Matsui and Sandra Oh...I'd go with Godzilla.

A-Rod is Grey: he's an emotional wreck, has a man crush on Jeter and has used steroids. Grey is an emotional wreck, is married to McDreamy and has used botox on her leathery face. Ding, ding, ding.

While the Yankee boast more Latinos than a WKTU freestyle concert, Grey’s has one Latina—Sara Ramirez. And that’s the biggest dissimilarity. PS: Yankees suck.

Uno,

Jesus

Top 5 Ass Beatings By My Mom

I'm a mama's boy. It didn't hit me until I got married and called my mom a couple of times every day. She raised me the good ol’ Latino way: chancleta, metal spoon, Nintendo controller cord basically whatever she can get in a good whooping. Time outs are for sissies, kids. With Mother’s Day coming on Sunday it made me (and my ass) remember the top worst beatings she ever gave me.

5.At 2-years-old I used to hold my breath when I didn't get my way. My mom tossed me into a tub of cold water. Imagine shrinkage as a toddler. Brrrrr!

4.Throughout my childhood when I acted up my mom and her henchwomen aka my older sisters would hold me down on the floor. Ma dukes would proceed to lay the power of dad’s belt on me.

3.Random smacks. It'd be a pleasant day and I’d get a smack in the face. For what? Something I did the week ago and she always made sure I got checked. Funny how moms always say, “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” Nope!

2. At age 5, I called my mom a bitch in a video store. She laid down the smack down. No He-Man movie for me.

1. At 12, the height of my assholism, my mom gave me the beating of my lifetime. I had been acting up in school, hanging with hoodlums, doing graffiti, etc. My mom found out I got a C in Spanish (can you imagine?) and I hid the report card! Envision a female mini version of Manny Pacquiao vs. Bambi. I was Bambi.

Aside from good ol' fashioned Latin American discipline my mom is a great mom. I love you mom with all my heart so enjoy your day. I scoff at my sisters when they give my nieces timeouts. Those damn hypocrite henchwomen!

Uno,

Jesus

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