Adventures in Cholo-land

Two of my homies, Crazy and Shorty, and I decided to go out cruising one night. We rolled some fat, choice blunts (giant marijuana cigarettes smoked by cholos) and took off into the night. That night was one of those nights that was pretty close to perfect. A Friday night, cool breeze, choice tunes, even better friends and cruising the streets reveling in the smoky bliss of our mistress Mary Jane. Like I said, basically perfect. We were listening to Bone Thugs-N-Harmony and generally having a great ol' time.

Enhances all past times.

With such a great night comes a price. Our time to pay up came when the cop car we drove passed rolled out from its parking spot and started following us. This became a huge problem. Reason being, Shorty had a warrant. Once the placa ran a check on Shorty, he was going to jail and since Crazy and I were both brown, we would probably be following suit.

Shorty was obviously a little perturbed. Complications further arose when Crazy revealed he was packing. Not a suit case, which would have been preferably, but he had a pistol. Now the mierda had hit the fan. We all started arguing what we should do. Act cool, which was my idea. Take off, which was Shorty's idea. Then you had Crazy's idea; which was to get into a shoot out. Crazy didn't get his name for using his Batman-like logic. The cop car crept closer. We got a little more agitated. Our perfect night was going south. Fast.

Good idea or greatest idea?

We did not know what to do with the roaches (for you who are good people with decent lives and a average IQ, roaches are what happens to a blunt when they are smoked down). That was when, as they say on the street, shit got real. The cop flipped his lights. Shorty started cursing a storm. Crazy pulled out his gun and cocked it. He was going to go down in a blaze of glory. I tried to calm them both down. The marijuana was huge a huge problem. We couldn't just throw them outside as the cop may see them and that would have added to our dilemma. If there was no roach, we may be able to get off. Thankfully, the drugs gave me a brilliant idea.

I screamed to Crazy and Shorty to give me their roaches. They stopped yelling, turned to me and thrust their roaches into my shaky hands. Staring down at the roaches, I let out a sigh. My two hermanos stopped all yelling and watched as my brilliant plan unfold. I gulped, told them they owed me huge and went through with it.

I threw the roaches in my mouth. Chewed twice and swallowed.

Just like momma use to make.

With the lights of the cop car forgotten, they both watched in a mix of shock and mild amusement. I gagged at the taste of the burnt reefer. We then all braced ourselves for the ensuing storm. That was when our night went from terrible back to perfect. The cop changed lanes and shot passed us. There must have been something more important happening that night in Desert, Utah. Shorty pulled over to the side and we all watched the police vehicle disappear into the night. I started laughing hard and loud. The kind of laughing that hurts your back. Shorty and Crazy joined in and soon, our car erupted with laughter.

When it calmed down, Shorty made the proposal that we go back to the crib and smoke some more herb, since the events of the night had totally destroyed our high. Crazy and I looked to each other and agreed. Another round of smoke would definitely calm our nerves. We drove off into the night to get deep once again.

"We have learned nothing!"

The Joys of Dogness

On one gloomy fall day Wifey (formally known as Future Wife) and I decided to take a trip to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. We wanted to check out a few of the dogs that the rescue had. A dog has been on our list of 'things we want' since we were married. Fate, and more importantly, finances, had allowed us to finally get a dog. Wifey had done hours of research trying to find the perfect dog. She had been corresponding with Best Friends and narrowed it down to three dogs. Those three dogs were what we were off to drive an hour and a half to see. We really wanted a dog.

Like Disney Land, this place makes me happy and cry all at once.

We arrived at the tour center and told the lovely ladies what we there to do, and who we were there to see. One dog that stuck out to us was a Pit Bull mix named Honey Bun who we chose because of my love for both sweet pastries and adorable dogs. The ladies lit-up when they heard her name, and exclaimed to us how amazing of a dog she was. This filled our hearts with joy. They pointed us where to go, Dog Town, and away we went.

Pulling in to Dog Town, we heard the cacophony of barking. We wondered if one of those loud cries would be the perfect dog. We met with Kristi, who was happy to put a face to Wifey's letters. Kristi informed us that we would meet Honey Bun first. She took us to the little office and we met both Tim (the dog trainer), and Jacqui (who had been Honey Bun's caregiver for her time there). They were very nice and told us that we would love Honey Bun. I was a bit skeptical, as was Wifey. We chatted about the usual small talk subjects; our situation, school careers and work schedules. Finally, they brought out Honey Bun.

Both our hearts melted.

My usual icy heart after seeing our new dog. You win this time dog.

Out trotted this beautiful, light brown furred, golden eyed Adonis of a dog. Wifey went to her knees and began to hug her. Wifey then made a decision- we were taking Honey Bun home. I knew picking a dog named after food was a good idea. She was going to be our dog. What surprised us was how willing the staff was to let us take her home that day. After a long deliberation of about three seconds, we decided to adopt Honey Bun.

The staff was excited. They informed us that before we could take her, Honey Bun had to greet the next round of tourists. Honey Bun was a celebrity on the grounds of Best Friends and she greeted the tourists with her lovable, fuzzy, meatball head. They asked if we could hold off for about an hour and half so that the staff would have time to say goodbye. We decided to kill time back in the little town of Kanab. We checked the local sites and after what felt like an eternity, we went back up.

It felt manly, yet classy.

Wifey wanted to take the tour of Best Friends. I wanted to take our new dog home, but agreed. We went on the tour. While I will admit, it was very enjoyable, but I wanted to take Honey Bun home. When it was finished, we drove back up to Dog Town and filled out the required paper work. We had our pictures taken and the staff had their teary goodbye with the star of Best Friends. We finally were able to take our sweet little girl home.

The ride home was smooth and easy. Honey Bun was great the whole ride back to St. George. I will admit, that on the ride home, I felt a little bad. We fell absolutely in love with Honey Bun and did not bother to look at the other dogs. When we got her home, she was a bit anxious, and nervous. She would pace back and forth. Even though she was not use to the new environment and liked to chew on some of our electronic items, we were head over heels in love with her.

"Why yes, I am a huge beaner. You can tell by the case of refried beans in the corner."

She has grown accustomed to us and her new home. The love my wife and I have for her has grown more then I ever thought possible. Honey Bun is the perfect dog. I cannot picture my life without her goofy face. I just hope I can bring a fraction of joy into her life as she has brought to mine. Yes, I am a giant gay.

Fun with Racist Old Men

A couple months ago during the summer, which in Desert, Utah they are hotter than the middle pits of hell, I was driving around  running errands and listening to my tunes. After an hour of driving in my sauna, I decided it was time to take a break and get a drink. Before I pulled in, a song came up on my MP3 player that always makes me smile.

DVD Fun Fact: I love Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch's "Good Vibrations."

Be still my beating heart.

This is probably one of the worst songs ever made. It is cheesy, goofy and it is 'sung' by Mark Wahlberg before he was an amazing actor. Never the less, it is one of my favorite songs. I pulled into the gas station and hopped out. I was still smiling and humming Mr. Wahlberg's ridiculous shanty and walked in.

Inside the gas station was the usual cast of characters; creepy milk lady, toothless hobo picking out beer, and grumpy ol' veteran. The lady working the counter was short, surly and Native. I understood, she worked an awful job that paid little money. Typical Native job. After checking out the cast of characters in the joint, I walked back to the pop (what brown people call soda) and grabbed me an ice cold Coke. I stopped by the nut section and thought about grabbing a bag of peanuts, but decided against making my drink extra classy.

"Hello again."

I mosey'd on up to the counter, still grinning like an idiot over that amazing ballad, and planted my pop on the counter. Standing next to me was the Veteran Vick grumbling about the Jews and how they have made gum so expensive. As Native Checker rang me up, I noticed that the Veteran Vick kept eyeballing and I would steal a couple glances. Vick finally said something;

"You sure smile a lot for an Indian."

I am FUELED by racism!

Native Checker and I both stopped what we were doing and looked at each other. We saw the twinkle in each others eyes, recognizing that we have been through this kind of racism before. Or because we were both drunk on hand sanitizer. Whatever.

Luckily Native Checker had my back and she ripped into Veteran Vick with her sing songy rez accent, who I could tell they knew each other.

"Vick, you stupid old bastard. Indians can smile too! White people don't own smiles."

I started laughing, put my hand on Veteran Vick's shoulder and told him that we can laugh too. Vick was upset and stormed out, mumbling out racial slurs. Native Checker and I shared in the laughter. One thing that unites Indians is humiliation of white people.

"This racism is killing us inside!"

iPhone 5 vs Galaxy 3S: Cruise Control

This was an assignment I wrote for class a couple weeks ago. I figured I would post it because it is filled with witty remarks and poop jokes. Enjoy!

Pictured: Comedy

I must state this before I get started: I could really care less about both of these phones. I don't own a smart phone and don't ever really care to own one. I know a lot of my friends have been giddy with joy over the iPhone 5 and who love their Galaxy 3s. I am not one of those people. I talked to one of my friends who is way hip to these gizmoboxes.

After deciphering the squeals and giggles from my Apple Fanboy friend, apparently the iPhone 5 is 'kewl' because it will be a lot slimmer than previous iPhones. He made sure to point out the iPhone 5 is a "full millimeter less than the Samsung Galaxy S3 - which is 8.6mm thick." I told him my brick phone is the size of my head, but got great reception, had amazing battery life that lasted three days, made actual real calls, and could be used as a weapon. He was not amused.

Navajo Warclub made by Motorola.

He than told me that the iPhone 5 was 'super awesome' because the screen will be "4in display of 1,136 x 640 pixels." Where the 'pooptacular' Galaxy S3 has a screen display of 4.8 in display. Which he than complained was to wide for his baby like hands. I nodded grimly and asked him to tell me more.

He was a little worried though that the Galaxy S3 may be a tad more powerful than the iPhone 5. I told him I really didn't care, but he explained that the Samsung Galaxy S3 uses the Exynos 4412 chip, which has four cores and runs at 1.4GHz, but the Galaxy S3 also is stupid and smells like poop. He told me that Apple usually keeps their specs pretty close to the chest, not revealing them till its released. He than dreamily looked up to the stars and wondered what the iPhone 5 would have. From what he muttered, it would probably be better than the Galaxy S3 and that would turn into a robot with Steve Jobs' face and be your best friend forever. Instead of writing down what he said, I smoked a cigarette. I don't even smoke, but I decided now would be great time to start.

The iPhone 5 really IS amazing and not disrespectful at all!

 He kept yammering on about how the iPhone 5 rejected the 30-pin connector used across iPods, iPads and iPhones in favour of a much-smaller 8-pin model which apperently was 'earth-shattering.' I prayed for death's sweet embrace, but it never came. I sighed. He than told me that the Galaxy S3 had a different approach and lets you use microSD cards and uses the microUSB standard. 'If you're into that,' he remarked.

I had about all I could take. I thanked him for his time and left him as he was still talking about how great Apple was. For all I know, he is still their talking about it. I than went back to the rock I live under and wrote this report with sticks and mud. I uploaded it by strapping it to a homing pigeon and sent it to the nearest center with 'Interwebs.'

"Did I say rock? I meant more of a mud hut."

Native Shenanigans, My Wife, and Me.

I am married to a pretty wonderful gal. She is a great sport and puts up with a lot of my crap. Trust me, I have lots to spare. I owe her so much that I could never pay her back in this lifetime. I am up to my eyeballs in debt to her. Now that I have said that about her, it is time to get into more debt.

Long ago on a cold fall night, back when we were dating, I picked up Future Wife from her job at a horrible place where she took pictures of other people's horrible offspring. I think it was called 4th Circle of Hell or Kiddie Kandids. Something to that effect. Anywho, we decided to go on a spur of the moment date. I told her one of my favorite things to do in the winter in Desert, Utah, is to go driving at night when it is really cold. I like to get a Coke and peanuts (aaayyy!) and listen to good tunes. This intrigued Future Wife and she decided she would like to accompany me. So I picked her up, we got our supplies and away we went into the cold night.

Guaranteed to make any date more romantic.

We drove around in the arid Siberian for a while. We talked about whatever was on our mind. Family, friends, movies, whateves. We drove to the top of this mountain over looking the city. Desert, Utah is beautiful at night in the winter. One of my favorite things to behold. We cuddled up together, heater humming and Al Green crooning about getting married. 

Future Wife began to shiver. That is one thing about Future Wife, she gets cold really easy. Like frustratingly easy. I took off a swig of my Coke and peanuts, removed my jacket and offered it to her. She protested and gave me every reason why she should not take it. Another thing about Future Wife, she has this problem  with taking things. Good thing I am bigger. I forced it on her. She wouldn't admit it, but she felt warm. It was a perfect night. The ones that only come around every so often.

It was now time for me to ruin it.

Ruin the evening as bad as Johnny Depp ruined Indians.

A car zoomed behind us. Al Green was replaced by the Temptations. Future Wife asked me if I was cold. I told her that I was perfectly fine. She couldn't believe me, so she asked again why I was not cold. The reason, I explained with my far off distant expression, was because I had the spirit of the buffalo coursing through my veins. That because of the Indian ceremony I performed, I was granted the gift of warmth.

She bought it. Hook line and sinker.

I can see why she did. Future Wife has never really been exposed to Native Americans and their ways were a complete mystery to her. She also didn't know that Indians love to play jokes. Especially Navajos. Especially me. I think I listened to one to many stories about Coyote, the Ashton Kutcher of Navajo lore who Punk'd all the other spirits and deities.

You got served!

For a couple weeks, Future Wife bought the spirit of the buffalo. She told her family and friends (mostly white) about the power of Native Magicks. Every time she did, my smile grew more and more. I was basically the Cheshire Cat. Another thing about Indians and their wacky shenanigans is that we love to pull one over on white people. I would even conjecture that it is the national Native American past time.

On another cold day, Future Wife and I were hanging out at her place on her couch. She was wishing she had the spirit of the buffalo. I looked down and when I saw her face, I knew I had to fess up. She genuinely wished she had. For realsies. With a sigh, I told Future Wife I had something to tell her.

I than told her that the spirit of the buffalo was a total sham. I had made it up because my participation in the furthering of playing pranks of whites had gotten the best of me. When I finished, her face was red with embarrassment and the wind had been taken out of her sails. Maybe the wind spirits were getting in on the fun.

Wind spirits. Man those guys are cocks.

I felt like crap.

I apologized to her profusely. That it was just a joke and I did not know that she would buy it. I mean, spirit of the buffalo? Come on. She then excused me of calling her stupid. I was losing ground. Fast. The next thing I told her was that I would do anything to make it up to her. Future Wife smiled a wry smile and told me she thought of a way.

The next week I was having Thanksgiving with her family. Now, her immediate family is probably twice the size of my entire family. So there I was, in the middle of a large group of people with yelling and screaming children.

They also made me sit on the floor.

Well played Future Wife. Well played.