Hi Dear. How was your day?

I have recently discovered that I have turned into June Cleaver. I dress everyday even if I'm not going anywhere. I clean the house, and cook dinner every night. I smile at the neighbors when they pass by me on the sidewalk. I am constantly having to teach my partner social etiquette. When I go to he grocery store everyone who works there knows me. They say "Hi David, how are you today?" I say "Fine, and how is work going for you today?" I am not kidding. I put on fake smiles at people I despise. I treat our dog and cat as if they are human, they are my Wally and Beaver. When my partner comes home i always ask about his day. What the hell happened to me? I was the guy at the grocery store that cashiers would roll their eyes at because I would not let them give me any lip. I was the guy who ordered dinner off a menu just before my partner got home. I was the guy who would have traded the dog and cat for a mink coat (this one is still up in the air). I was the guy who would tell my partner I did not want to hear about any work crap, i was tired. Age has done some bad things to me to this point, but this has got to be the most evil thing thus far. It mellowed me out. God help me.

Peer Pressure

This week has been very quiet. Quiet you ask? Yes quiet. This is because my partner has been on a business trip. I can sprawl out in bed without having to push him aside. I can watch all the television shows I want. I can eat like a college kid and not care. Basically i am bored off my ass. I have no one to pick a fight with. I have no one to make fun of. I have no one's closet to go to rearrange differently and out of order just to bug them. I have to take all the turns at walking the dog. I miss him. He is currently in out hometown getting drunk with friends. While i decided responsibly not to have any alcohol this weekend.Does this make me better than him? Yes. I have decided not to drink all weekend. What I have discovered is all my friends here in Chicago and Dallas for that matter, drink excessively. I also discovered that I am the black sheep this weekend because i have been called by everybody on my dart team to go out and drink. When i explain my plan for not drinking they made fun of me. Then they said I should just forget about my plan and go out. I said that they were enablers. They said we enable each other so that's why we are not alcoholics and I need to go back to my denial faze about drinking.I said no.So here i am on Saturday night by myself spending time with a stranger, a stranger named David Jimenez.

5,6,7,8

If ever i have had a gay moment the worst one and most embarrassing happened on Saturday night. I have been obsessed with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders for a while now. More specifically I have been obsessed with the CMT show making the team the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. It showcases the trials and hard work from the the initial audition process, to training camp, and ultimately those who make it and those who are cut. It can be harsh to see a girl who weighs 100 pounds be cut because she doesn't look good in the uniform, or to see a girl who does not have the appropriate verbal skills to represent the team be cut as well. The team is run by Kelli Finglass, a former cheerleader herself. She runs a tight ship and cuts girls for different reasons. One of these reasons is part of my obsession. The famous high kick line. The girls line up and kick a series of high kicks that end in a jump split. Yes i said a jump split. Its amazing. Well, I decided on Saturday that I would try and replicate this kick line with the help of my loving patient partner. I figured why not, it was snowing outside, i was bored, and i was determined to see just how high my leg could go. We were standing in the kitchen and I asked him to lift his hand so i would have a point to focus on. I put my hands on my hips and in my head played the song Simply Irresistible, this what they kick to on the show. Then I counted 1,2,3,4 and kicked my right leg up as high and hard as I could to reach his hand. As if in slow motion my left foot slipped on the kitchen tile and I watched my partners face turn to fear as I slowly fell backward. As I fell a thought came to mind, I might die of a head injury. If I die then my partner would have to explain to the police, my family, and my friends that I had died of an injury sustained from practicing the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader kick line. It would be in all the gay papers, and be part of my eulogy. They would have to find a huge casket to put me in to fit my leg that was stuck over my head. Then as I hit the floor I thought it might not be so bad. Kelli Finglass would hear about it and send the cheerleaders to my funeral to do the kick line in front of my over sized casket as a tribute to me. That would have been cool. Well I was okay, I landed hard but nothing broke, and I looked to see my partners face fighting back a laugh until he knew I was okay. Thank God I did not try the jump split.

Just Venting

I have been in a relationship now for nearly 4 years and it amazes me that some people think they know my relationship better than I do. They look at me and Dalton whom they have known for only a short period of time and analyze what they think the dynamic of our relationship is. I find myself border line insulted by their assumptions. One assumption is that I am Dalton's "boy" who spends his days shopping and going to the gym. While I do like a good pair of shoes every now and then this is simply not the case. Another assumption I have recently discovered is that Dalton lavishes me with what I want because they feel he and I do not compliment each other physically. What the hell? This is more insulting to him than me. These are assumptions that I knew very well existed but were not confirmed until we met up with a friend last night for a drink. I will go record saying that no one really knows a relationship looking in from the outside. We have each sacrificed for each other and I will admit at the moment Dalton is the primary bread winner but there have been times when that role was reversed. As far as looks go, there is no man more attractive in my eyes than Dalton ( except maybe for Daniel Craig, but I digress.) We share a both good and bad times together. We have our disagreements, but who doesn't? We have mutual respect for one another and a strong love. I realize that having to defend my relationship with him should not have to be done, but I just needed to vent. Dalton himself could care less, which is one of the traits I admire in him. I however still carry that high school trait of caring what is said about me, and believe me much has been said. I know I shouldn't care, especially since those who make these assumptions are not exactly models for solid relationships but it still bugs me. I guess i will have to just live with it.

With Age Comes Wisdom and Aching Bones

I have begun my daily workouts and let me tell you times have changed. I use to be able to run a 5 mile stretch with a hangover and a cigarette hanging from my mouth. Now I can barley crack 3 miles sober. What the hell? I am 31 years old and have been eating healthy for a while now. I still smoke and drink but even that has tapered off a bit. The gym I attend is 4 blocks away and it took all my strength to walk home from there today. So now lets recap.....Losing my hair, the hair I still have left is going grey, i have man boobs, and I when I read for an extended period of time my eyes begin to blur. I'm scared of whats next. At least i still have regular bowl movements, God forbid i have to start using a stool softener. Also for my good friend Vicky no matter what age group your in there is always a younger group. The other day I heard some kid use the slang "that's sick" and didn't realize it meant something good. If I say that's sick I'm usually referring to those guys that weigh 100 pounds and have a Leif Garrett haircut. Well i guess I'll sign off for now its time for my afternoon nap.

Boobylicious

Well I've embarked on something new yet again, or revisited something. I have begun to work out at the gym again. I have done this partly because I was inspired by my friend Joe who is embarking on the same thing, and partly because the other day when i ran across the street I nearly gave myself a black eye with my man boobs. Now mind you I am not a heavy guy, in fact I am fairly thin, but it seems no matter how much I work I cannot get rid of them. They are not Pamela Anderson big, but if i don't take action I will soon be a B cup. All the woman in my family are well endowed, and unfortunately so are the men. No matter how thin I get they never shrink. I have begun wearing muscle shirts under my normal shirts in order to keep them in place, and lets face it an undershirt is basically a man bra. There is nothing more embarrassing ( except falling down on a regular basis, no names needed) than a man whose chest bounces when he walks. You feel as if everyone passing you in the street is staring. You feel violated when people talk to your man boobs instead of looking you in the eye. I bet all you women out there thought you were the only ones. Men with fatty boobs get the same stares only for different reasons. I am going to work my butt off until they are gone, if that doesn't work I am thinking pf plastic surgery. I will keep you updated.

Seriously?

Well it happened yet again. I know I have mentioned a couple of instances when my beloved loses his balance and eats dirt, so it should come as no surprise that I have yet another example as to why I need to put him in a bubble. Yesterday, my partner and I along with a few friends decided to attend German fest in our neighborhood. It was a wonderful day filled with food, German music and lots of beer. The weather was beautiful, and the crowd was friendly. We started with a parade that marched right down the middle of our street, next we went to the square to join the festivities. We played games and ate brauts, and drank lots of beer. Now mind you I am not a beer drinker so I was cautious and limited myself to a only a few. My partner and friends went a little further. By the time eight o'clock rolled around the majority of our group was thoroughly plastered. My partner was part of this majority. It was decided that at this point we should go home. Dalton was very intoxicated and we decided to end the night. A friend of ours kindly helped me walk Dalton home because I needed the help. After a couple of blocks the beer kicked in with force. Dalton had to go potty. After yelling at him not to pee in the street he stopped at a local park to attempt a relief of his bladder. Again I cautioned him against it but he was determined. He did not realize that a chain blocked off the park and he would have to walk over it. Well this is when it happened he tripped on the chain and down he went into the dirt. My friend and I quickly ran over to pick him up. We walked the rest of the way home as blood trickled down from his knee and I wiped mud from his shirt. We got home and went to bed. The next day I discovered his knee was swollen and bruised. It has come to my attention that I really may need to put him in a bubble or fit him with knee pads and a helmet, I haven't decided which of these to go with yet.

Its Not Funny

Its been a while since my last blog, so I decided to update it with a little story called " You thinks its really funny but its really wet and runny". This past week a good friend of ours visited us here in beautiful Chicago. Now those of you who know us are aware that we enjoy the occasional cocktail. Vicky our friend also occasionally enjoys a cocktail or two so when she arrived we decided we would partake in a few and catch up. It took longer to catch than anticipated so a few cocktails turned into a few more. The next after we awoke we decided to walk around the neighborhood and then head out to Boystown, and by Boystown I mean the street where 100 pound boys go to find themselves a husband. We enjoyed yet another cocktail or two before heading home at 1 am. The next day our house guest and myself woke to find Dalton bright eyed and bushy tailed ( Yes its time for a wax). Vicky and I were less than enthusiastic when he proposed we go to Navy Pier. We agreed so as to show Vicky more of Chicago than we had. It was a beautiful day and the pier was full of people. Now mind you when I have a slight hangover my body does things that I have no control over. My head pounds, i get nauseated, and I have a very loose stomach. In other words I poo like no body's business. Well you have probably guessed by now that I had one such attack at Navy Pier. It started slowly with a cramp or two then turned into what I would assume giving birth is like. I handed my partner the shopping bag I was carrying and ran for dear life. I searched and searched yet could not find a bathroom without a line. Finally after I had run the majority of the pier I found an empty restroom. I wont get into detail about what happened next, but I will say this was possibly one of the most embarrassing things that has happened to me in a while. I exited the bathroom sweaty and red faced.I do not like to use public restrooms for this particular function, but alas God had other plans.

How Dare She

Recently while walking my dog i came across a young hippie girl walking her big mutt. Usually when I see another dog out and about I cross the street to avoid conflict between the two animals. This day I did it as usual. I turned around while Misty (my dog) was doing her business. As I turned I saw the dog I was avoiding come darting at us. I decided I would kick it if it attacked. It didn't. It was one of those big dogs that like to play. Well I was about to yell at the lady for not having her beast on a leash. This is a big pet peeve of mine. The dog could hurt someone, encounter another dog that is not friendly, or get hit by a car. Put your damn dog on a leash. She came and started making conversation. She was one of those eccentric hippie people that only eat veggies and smoke pot. I usually really get along with those type of people. We talked for a bit but I was nervous because Misty can play a little rough and the other dog was much bigger than her. I told her I had to go because I was afraid Misty would get hurt. This woman proceeded to tell me that it would fine if I got rid of my negative energy that Misty was sensing from me. I told this bitch that I did not have negative energy but that I was protecting my dog, and hers, and I mentioned that some of the other dogs in the neighborhood are not friendly and to be careful in case her dog encounters one of them. AKA leash your dog. I didn't tell her that part, but I wanted to. I walked Misty back home, and proceeded with my day. I have encountered the same lady almost every time I walk Misty now. We have resorted to walking a new route to avoid her. I am going to start a neighborhood petition to have everyone leash their dogs when they are being walked. Might I mention she had the worst dye job of anybody I have ever seen in my life. I know this has nothing to do with my story but just because your a hippie doesn't mean you cannot have nice hair. I'm just saying.

Tragic and more Tragic

My partner and I spent Monday night drinking at home and watching music videos on CMT. You would think that this would have been a relaxing evening with good music and company, it wasn't. In our inebriated states we began a discussion about the differences and similarities between Carrie Underwood and Leanne Rimes. The discussion started out well comparing the two. Then it turned ugly. Dalton is a staunch supporter of Leanne Rimes and I am in love with Carrie. First I happened to mention that Leanne was popular in her time because she was a little girl with a great voice, and now she was a woman with a good voice.He said Carrie didn't pay her dues and didn't deserve her success. I mentioned that Leanne was 13 when she made it and she didn't either. Then he said Carrie could not sing like Leanne. I said he was right Carrie sings better. He said Carrie just got lucky and Leanne has sold more albums. I said yes after 12 years in the business. Carrie after 2 has out sold her. I went on to say that Leanne can no longer make the top ten, while Carrie is hitting number one left and right. He said it was because of American Idol, I agreed but went on to say if she were not good she would have fallen of the face of the earth after her first song. He said that I never respected Leanne. I said I always thought she was talented but she screwed up trying to go pop and when she came back to country Carrie had blocked her comeback. He said Leanne was more country than Carrie. I said Carrie was just inducted into the Grand Ole Opry and was more country. During this we continued to drink and it turned into a full fledged fight. We yelled at each other and then refused to speak to each other the rest of the night. We woke up the next day and realized just how sad we were. An old married couple who fought about something so stupid. I guess this is how it is. If our biggest fight in a year was about Carrie versus Leanne we are doing pretty good. We need hobbies.

Puff Puff

I recently tried to quit smoking. I failed. I am now 31 years old and am trying to be healthier. I eat right. I get some exercise, and take care of things as needed. However my one big vice is smoking. I don't use drugs, I avoid sweets as much as possible, and although I do enjoy a cocktail I know my limit there. All these things and I cannot break my smoking habit. I grew up in a smoking family. My grandpa smoked a cigarette while eating supper. My mother enjoyed a few years of smoking but was able to kick the habit. I can't seem to do it. It has gotten to the point that I no longer feel the side effects of it. There was a time when I would wake up with a sore throat and hacking up tar. I miss those times because it always cautioned me to skip a few that day. Now my poor body has just accepted this and I no longer have side effects. It is a gross and might I add expensive habit to have. It is a horrible nasty addiction. They have gotten so expensive in Chicago that I now drive to Indiana to purchase them. It might as well be crack and I'm Amy Winehouse. Alomost everyone in my social circle smokes. My partner and I plan weekend trips to Indiana just to buy them. Its ridiculous. Friends of ours who drive to Indiana for work always call us to see if we need them picked up for us. I know I need to stop but its a hard habit to break. I decided to try again next weekend. Wish me luck.

I plucked Now I'm F******ed

I am one of the few men I know that admit to having to pluck his eyebrows to avoid a uni brow. I do this every couple of weeks when hair between my eyes gets long enough to braid. Yesterday was one of these days. I picked up my tweezers and hand mirror and began the painful process. When I was done I noticed that I could see long hairs peaking out from within my bushel of eyebrows. I decided it was time to man scape them. Again I began to painfully pluck out these long strains of hair. When I was done I noticed that stray hairs were growing at the end tips pf my brows. I plucked. Then I noticed course hairs growing at the arch. I plucked. Then I plucked more. Unfortunately I continued this process even further. When I was done with my plucking frenzy I decided to check out my work in the bathroom mirror. My eyes widened when I saw what I had done, but only one of my eyes seemed to catch this expression, the other one looked angry. One eyebrow was fine, it still held its natural arch and was cleaned up. The other however was as a ruler, I had plucked out its natural arch in my frenzy. All that was left was a big red spot. I am not one of those guys that shapes and sculpts his eyebrows. In fact I dislike it when guys do this to themselves, I pluck simply to clean them up. I don't know what got into me but now I am left looking surprised from one eye, and angry from the other. I think I am going to have to use a marker to fix my tragic work until grows back.

Down She Goes

Last weekend I spent Sunday drinking with a few buddies. Our intention was to have a few at brunch and then head home. This did not happen. We ended up staying a few hours more than we intended. In our buzzed state we decided to head to the strip of bars we frequented. We decided to take the train as it was cheaper and we wanted to use all our money for drinking. On the train we took our seats and began our journey into debauchery. At one particular spot an attractive young woman stepped onto the train. As she attempted to take her seat her skinny ass missed and she fell between her intended seat and the wall. She quickly jumped up red faced and sat down. Being the gentlemen that we were we proceeded to laugh out loud in unison. The young lady turned and gave us a dirty look. We turned our heads and stared out of the window trying everything in our power to hold in our laughter. A few stops later she exited the train just in time for her to miss the entire population of our cart burst into laughter. I tell this story as a warning. If you are skinny enough to fall between a seat and the wall which are very close proximity you need to eat more, and secondly laugh at yourself if you fall in public in will diffuse the situation. Those of you who have read some of my previous posts know that I speak from experience.

I'm Hungry

I have been spending the better part of the week dieting. After many weeks of binging on fatty foods and ice cream I have begun to notice that when I take off my underwear a red mark stays imprinted on my skin. This is not good. Although I'm fairly comfortable with my weight I cannot let myself get to the point where I have a permanent tattoo around my waist that says BVD. I am going about the diet the right way. I bought tons of healthy food and I make sure to eat breakfast everyday.This also is not good. Instead of a heaping bowl of creamy smooth delicious ice cream I eat little tiny containers of yogurt. Instead of a greasy tasty cheeseburger I eat a bland dry turkey burger. Instead of a large wonderful peperoni pizza, which by the way I would run over a good friend with my car for, I eat a whole wheat lean pocket with pizza flavoring. Instead of being happy I am mad and hungry. Why did man have to invent Hostess Twinkies? Who came up with idea or pouring nacho cheese on tortilla chips and piling it with ground beef, guacamole, and sour cream, and why does it taste so good? Why do all the foods that taste the best have to be so bad for our waistlines? Sure you can all fool yourselves into thinking that soy milk tastes just like regular milk, or a stick of celery is just as satisfying as a candy bar, but your all wrong. It doesn't taste the same people, it never will! I don't want to eat baked chicken for dinner, I want fried chicken. Juicy crisp fried chicken I tell you. The kind that burns your mouth when you first bite into it, and grease trickles down your chin. The kind of fried chicken that crunches in your mouth as you chew. The kind you eat with a heaping steaming plate of mashed potatoes and gravy (and a biscuit). Excuse me while I go suck on an ice cube.

Children Behave

This past weekend was gay pride in Chicago. The streets were alive with anorexic boys in little underwear. The alcohol poured freely, and music filled the streets. Prior to the actual parade on Sunday there was a sort of street fair that occurred on Saturday. In order for my partner and I to avoid the rain and large crowds on Sunday for the actual parade we opted to just attend the street fair. News cameras filled the streets and reporters sought out only the most flamboyant men to interview. In the mix of it all several b list musicians performed on the main stage. The one wonderful exception was singer Tiffany. Yes I said Tiffany. For those of you not familiar with her she was a late eighties teen queen. Do you remember "I Think We're Alone Now"? She was the last performer of the evening. Now I have never been one to follow the normal gay stereotype. I do not worship Madonna or Cher. I don't sing along to Bette Midler and own Judy Garland Albums. It's just not me. However, this was Tiffany in all her former glory. I remember as a tween, sitting in my bedroom with my five pound cassette player and headphones replaying "Could Have Been" over and over. I recall staying up to watch Dance Machine on Friday night to catch her performance. I remember reading a teen magazine and discovering she was dating Jonathan Knight from New Kids On The Block. Yes, I truly do remember. She sang all of her songs pitch perfect. She wore a fringed black skirt, halter top and white high heeled platform shoes. Her hair was curled short and tight with sunbeams highlighting her beautiful red tresses. If all this were not enough she grabbed my hand twice, not once like she did with all the other bitter queens, but twice. It was as if we had a connection. It was as if she was saying "David you are my favorite". It was as if she knew me and I knew her. It was meant to be this chance interaction with Tiffany. It is what the universe intended.

Velma

If I could pick one person in my life besides my mother whom I believe to be a great influence on me it would be my Aunt Velma. As a child she cared for me as if one of her own. One of the advantages of this was that she was not that much older than me. Yes she was alive when the first man walked on the moon, but not much older. I spent many nights sleeping in her house, and eating her food, so much so I regard her children as siblings. I was taught a little about cars from Uncle Peter, and played endless games with my three cousins. Much more than this she was a maternal figure in my life that provided me with advice and comfort. There was and is always a door open at her house. She is gentle yet bold at the same time. This characteristic is what I admire most. She could be asked to leave a local convenient store for making a rude remark to the cashier, yet give a homeless person money in the parking lot of that same store as security escorted her out. This is Velma. A woman who along with her husband raised three kids while working full time. A woman who mastered the art multitasking. She could cook an enchilada dinner from scratch on the same day as she stained her wood floors by herself. Much more than this she could love her children unconditionally and her nephew at the same time. This duel love is what I live with, the love I have for her and my mothe is one in the same. This person whom I am privledged to know is one of many who shaped my life. She cries when I cry and laughs when I laugh. As sappy or sugary as all this may sound the fact is it is the truth, and I am lucky that this thruth is sappy.

Down He Goes Again

I will admit I am not the most compassionate person when it comes to someone taking an uninjured tumble. I have mentioned this before, so I will not elaborate. However I cannot keep this to myself any longer. It has pained me for two days deciding whether or not I should mention yet another fall I witnessed. The victim is familiar but the circumstances are different, he was not drunk this time. As I mentioned in my prior post I was lucky enough to attend a family reunion at a rented beach house in Florida. It was beautiful and picturesque. The drive down was long and wrought with wrong turns and exhaustion, but we finally found our way there. During the course of the trip my wonderful partner Dalton seemed to be cursed. During the drive he somehow sprained a toe. I don't how people. He didn't stub it on anything. Nothing fell on it, it just started to hurt him and we discovered it was sprained. This was just the beginning. On the trip back he became car sick. He was nauseated and could not eat anything. He has always had a delicate stomach at times, it just seemed that after the toe incident he had suffered enough. In between these two incidents something else happened. Yes people he fell. On a dark moonlit night in a beautiful beach front house he and I decided to join my family on the sand to listen to music and talk. The back of the house was designed with a large second story porch with wooden stairs that led to the bridge to the beach. On our way down we talked about how much we were enjoying the trip. As I turned towards my gentle giant he missed the last wooden stair from the porch. Down he went again. He fell to his knees as if praying to God for mercy. His face reddened with embarrassment because although I was the only one to see it happen he knew by the end of the night everyone else would be informed. He rose limping on his sprained toe with his knees dusty from sand. His face expressed a longing for me not to tell. But alas he must know me by now. I decided to forgo my story to my family. All except for one. The one from whom I inherited this gene. My Aunt Velma. We both laughed. As my guy approached us on the porch my Aunt asked Dalton what happened to his knee, he looked down unaware that I had told. He stopped short of his explanation when he saw our faces. He mentioned that we should shut up and walked away. I will be shopping for a bubble for him to live in tomorrow.

These Things

Last week I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Destin,Florida for a family reunion . It was a wonderful privilege to see my entire family present in one house. There was good weather, food, and a great deal of conversation. We all gathered to celebrate my grandparents fiftieth wedding anniversary. The wine poured free and the week was spent lying on the beach and catching up with everyone. The journey although tedious was well worth it. Everything was as it was before I left for Chicago. My uncles and aunt offered their many opinions and jokes on family matters. My mother, the mother hen of the group, took care of everyone. My sister and I traded witty banter, or at least it was witty on my side. I caught up with my brother and forgot how much I missed him. My grandparents remained close to the house soaking in the love and marveling at the accomplishment they had produced, keeping the family intact. On the trip back I stopped at a book store to find a way to pass the time during the long drive home. In between my turns at the wheel I read an incredible heart wrenching biography of a Holocaust survivor. His family had been torn apart and murdered, like countless other families during this dark period. As we all know, or at least should know by now the tragic unthinkable loss of these families and generations of people is unimaginable. There are countless lessons to be learned from such stories of horror and family. The lesson I learned is one that I shall never forget. At times I must admit I take my family for granted. I do not call them as often as I should. I let important days in their lives go by without even an email. I regrettably do not visit as often as I should. My reasons are selfish and self pitying. I think if I do not call them I won't miss them. The fact is I will always miss them, but I am lucky enough to still have them available to me, alive and living life. I am lucky to still be able to share a silly joke with my sister, or hear my mother's voice at the end of a phone receiver. I am fortunate that I have an aunt who still pushes me to move back to Dallas. I have the privilege of watching my niece grow up and see what an amazing father my little brother as turned out to be. These things I will no longer take for granted. these things are what makes me who I am. These things are the blessings and gifts my God has given me. These things are why I live.

No Hablo Espanol

It has been my experience that most people judge a book by its cover. I know that I am guilty of it myself. When I see someone of a particular height, dress, etc. I initially assume that they are of a certain race or religion. In addition I assume they speak the language of their native countries that I have assigned to them. So it should come as no surprise that I when I experience the same assumptions placed upon me I should accept it as it is. However, this was not the case the other day. While working a temp job a man approached me in the lobby of the hotel I was working at to ask me about a particular car service he was waiting on. His first question was ..."Do you speak English?". I was insulted and a little embarrassed. There were several people around me and they seemed to be just as shocked as I was. To the gentleman's credit he meant no ill harm by his question. I don't think he even thought about what he had just asked me. Nonetheless it was a humbling experience. I replied by saying I speak better English than Spanish. He smiled and continued on with his inquiry. After all was said and done I was a bit angry, but the question remains if I do the same thing do I have the right to be upset if someone does it to me? I would never ask such a question. however I would think it. Is it any worse for him to ask it than me thinking it? I guess in the grand scheme of it all it is the same. I do not speak fluent Spanish and I have experienced the same inquiries about my language speaking skills by people of my own nationality. It seems that this judgement about myself will continue on forever. English is my first language, but some people outside my nationality will assume I speak only Spanish. Meanwhile people of my nationality will assume I speak fluent Spanish. It is a stereotype I will always live with, but I have to tell myself judge not lest ye be judged. With that note I must say I am really craving a taco right now.

Hey Man, you got a Square

The other day as I was smoking a cigarette outside, a person came up to me and asked me for a quarter and a square. Long ago when this request had begun making its way throughout the streets I thought a square was a drug term. It is actually a cigarette. In the beginning I always obliged. Then I realized it was becoming a frequent occurrence. Still I obliged, for a while. Currently I am financially in limbo so I began to tell people that I was out of cigarettes but still would give them the quarter. Then I realized the money request began to sky rocket. It was now a dollar. I like to think of myself as a kind person, maybe even gullible, but a dollar and a square? People cigarettes are expensive and a dollar is down right insulting. If you need to beg for a dollar you should not be smoking. If you are a drug addict and need the dollar for crack, smoke the crack instead because its cheaper than cigarettes. Also if on a really good day I give you a cigarette do not stand there and smoke with me. You will ruin my cigarette smoking experience because I will be wondering what your going to ask for next, five dollars and a triangle. Leave me alone!