I make no secret of how much I love NYC and I will live there no matter what the cost as outrageous as it may seem. But I know I don’t make mention of how much I love my hometown. My network of buddies reaches far and wide; whether people I know are from Hong Kong or Perth to the thriving metropolis known as Naperville, I have heard the same phrase uttered: “I may not care for Texas, but I sure do like the people.”

I do care for Texas,  Burnt Orange, our burning wildfires, the sterility of Dallas to the character of the Rio Grande Valley. And most of all I love San Antonio! In addition to my town, I love the song This City, by Patrick Stump. Remember Pete Wentz and Fall Out Boy? Stump is the guy with the crazy range in voice. He used to be on the chunky side, but now he is all svelte and dishing out a song I can’t stop singing!

Another song I can’t stop humming much to my chagrin, is this damn Gucci Gucci song by Kreayshawn. The song is too ridiculous!

One big room full of bad bitches… yeah, its called Christmas at my house. Simmer down and get out of here. And, um because you cannot afford it, does not mean that basic people wear it.

Don't be fooled... one year's salary will not get you anything in this ad!

If you want to listen to real rap, (why would you, but if you do) there is Jay-Z and Kanye West.

I happen to like fish filet damnit!

You better all have Spotify. It’s ten times better than Pandora. I believe that so much so, I bought Spotify premium. So far no complaints other than I can’t stay awake 24 hours a day to listen to the miracle that is Spotify premium.

No, I was not paid by Spotify, but I wouldn’t mind being paid by them to endorse them. It beats working on a plantation, I assure you.

]]> http://modelonegro.wordpress.com/2011/09/12/music-monday-sept-12-edition/feed/ 1 modelonegro Gucci http://modelonegro.wordpress.com/2011/08/04/some-people-dont-know-when-to-give-up/ http://modelonegro.wordpress.com/2011/08/04/some-people-dont-know-when-to-give-up/#comments Thu, 04 Aug 2011 17:00:02 +0000 Modelo Negro http://modelonegro.wordpress.com/?p=233 ]]> I almost died this weekend.

No, I did not go to a Britney Spears concert or a baseball game. I totaled my car when I hydroplaned into a retaining wall on a freeway after 45 seconds of rain. There was a moment when my life should have flashed before my eyes. Instead, all I could think was how I would be dead come September and I wouldn’t see my friend’s film debut at Toronto International Film Festival. And right before that, I was thinking how I would be that pendejo who crashed when it rained. But I did not die. In fact, I lived and thought some more really random thoughts. One of those random thoughts was: Have I been shot?

Damn Gang Activity

No, that would be the airbags deploying at speeds of up to 200 mph in my face.

And that caused my most painful physical injury: My split lip.

But what strikes me as odd, more so than my airbag, is the order in which I made phone calls directly after my accident.

1.) 911 (my Blackberry knew I was having difficulties and that normally useless function Emergency Call was just what the doctor ordered.

2.) The Plantation (That is what I have my office saved as in my Blackberry. I wanted to let my coworker know that I was going to be a tad bit late due to almost dying.)

3.) My Mother (Because she should know that I almost preceded her into that long dark night.)

4.) My Insurance Provider (Who My mother told my to call once I uttered I had been in an accident.)

Lately, I have been having a lot of discussions regarding priorities. Writing this list and reading the order in which I made phone calls makes me realize that maybe my priorities might be a little misplaced.

I called the plantation to say I would be late.

Before I called my mother. My mother that I talk to at least 4 times a day. You know, the woman who gave birth to me. The one who tolerates my mania. Work hasn’t really done anything other than give me ulcers the past six months and rowdy sweat stains in odd sections of my dress shirts. And forced me to become addicted to Coke.

Not the Lindsay Lohan drug, the highly addictive carbonated beverage.

I'm jonesing for it real bad!

And when I cannot get my hands on a Coke (I work in a place that is, disgustingly, Pepsi friendly) I will settle for a Mountain Dew or Dr. Pepper. I drink those bottles of sugary goodness by the gallons. In fact, I will consume at least 48 oz. of soda to get the same feeling as eating, say, a salad and a piece of meat.

I go to convenience stores and get super excited for the 52 ounce fountain drinks. That is the equivalent of dinner.

And spare me the talk of Diabetes, Liver Failure, Kidney Failure and Gallbladder problems. You need to talk to my employer. At least I’m not smoking or increasing my alcohol consumption ( Which we ALL know, couldn’t be any more than what I currently consume).

And after that little accident, I did make it to work. I worked 11 hours. I would have worked 14 had it not been for the pesky incident and lack of a vehicle. Whether it was the stress of work, my vehicular mishap, the additional 8000 grams of sugar I now consume or a pang of conscientiousness I can’t be too sure, but I do know that I did sit in a stairwell after sundown and I cried. I cried a lot. An ugly, painful, ethnic, I am being beat like a runaway slave tearfest.

You should know that shit is impossible because I had my tear ducts removed. (I wasn’t using them).

I have been way too lucky in my life to still be alive. Life is too short to cry because you feel bad about your poor decisions, Amigos. And that is why I was shedding tears in that nasty stairwell. Because I have made some pretty crappy decisions. No it was not about the car nor anything that superficial.

I refuse to let my legacy be intertwined with that of a plantation. As my friend Bibi tells me, I need to get my ass on the Underground Railroad.

She’s right you know. I’m too pretty to be working  in the cotton fields.

Hasta La Vista, Mis Amigos!

PS: I am fine, I am really lucky that I was not injured. If I had not been driving a beast of a vehicle, I would have been smashed to smithereens!

The front of the car should extend about a foot out past the hood!

The other day, I was sitting in Starbucks in the most productive city in the world and I heard the best song EVER! And I downloaded the song instantly in the coffee shop. The band is great, and when I become a famous pop star, these are the songs that I will sing and dance to on stages around the world!

This live version is fun, but so is the recorded version.

Also, if you haven’t checked out Florence + the Machine, you need to check her out! Remember when Lady Gaga was kind of cool because she wasn’t in your face wearing meat dresses or being carried around in an egg? Even pre-superfame Gaga wishes she was as cool and talented as Florence Welch.

And if that doesn’t sell you on Florence…

If you have some cool tunes that I must hear and add to my library, please let me know. On a road trip last week, it occurred to me that we listened to 35 songs before we heard a Britney Spears song.

That woman needs another album. STAT.

Who needs rehab... not Reese Witherspoon

Suddenly, I transformed from a double whiskey neat and 24 oz Guinness double fister frat boy into a soccer mom with a social calendar. A direct quote from myself: “I can’t stay out too late, I need to wake up early to drop off dry-cleaning before 7am.”

WTF?

That’s what all of these pretend hollywood divas need. A new car and some dry-cleaning. And if that wasn’t enough. I went to my sixteen-year old sister’s track meet. Where I was tricked. She has guilt tripped me and the rest of the family like a Jewish mother guilts her son into marrying a good Jewish girl: You never come to my track meets! I am really good, and you all choose to watch Real Housewives Marathons.

So, there I go, waking up at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday to schlep this girl to the field for her meet. She did not race until 2:30.

2:30!

And it was only ONE RACE! And she didn’t place.

But strangely, I wasn’t too angered. I am officially Reese Witherspoon.

And If there is one thing I know… America loves themselves some R-spoon!

Until a time shorter than previously expressed,

El Modelo Negro

Not blocking the sidewalk if there are more than two people in your party;

Chewing food with one’s mouth closed whilst in public;

Bathing regularly to prevent the malodorous scent known the world over as B.O.

And most importantly…

DON’T SAY YOU DID SOMETHING YOU CLEARLY DIDN’T DO!

I swear, people do the last one solely as a way to piss me off. Sometimes, you truly believe that you did something. For instance, I will swear up and down that I won 8 gold medals for my swimming performance at the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing. I don’t really recall everything I did that summer, but I’m pretty sure that I did do.

Oh wait, that wasn’t me…

I know what you didn't do last summer!

If you lie and say you saw Employee of the Month five times and loved it, but truth is you’ve never heard of it… I don’t care. No one cares, but mostly, I don’t care. I won’t waste my time nor my brain cells caring.

Now if you were asked if you did a specific task, say maybe at work, and you sing from the rooftops that it was you who not only completed a task, but checked and double-checked said task: please make sure you did it.

Because I am going to check that shit!

I may not be as stringent as Radio Shack or my beloved Notre Dame, but I have a pretty good nose.

Do you smell that?

No its not the scent of your youth, failure, or desperation…

That would be bullshit.

Yes I know desperation is one hell of  a strong scent itself, and most bachelors and bachelorettes in their mid-forties reek of it. Kinda like Designer Imposter Fragrances, but not nearly as costly or hazardous to the environment.

So what did we learn today kids from my rant?

1.) Who do Cheap Fragrances hurt? Everyone

2.) You can look up almost anything these days, and its not a good idea to lie.

You don’t have to take my word for it… Details Magazine wrote an entire article about this -ish!

So behave yourselves mis amigos, I can’t afford to be bailing all of you out of prison. Besides, if you are telling the right kind of lies, you might end up in one of those fancy prisons where the inmates play golf or badminton. Who wouldn’t want to play badminton.

At least you won’t get B.O.

And no, I’m not talking excited like your 13 year-old boyfriend who had never seen a pancake chest before.

I’m talking: full on six year old girl getting a freaking PONY EXCITED! (I may have just squealed a little in delight.)

But wait, you’ve never seen an episode of Glee and you are probably saying: Modelo, what the hell is so exciting about this show about singing dweebs?

I’ll tell you in two words:

SUE SYLVESTER!

Bask in my glory, you freak show babies!

and a bunch of other stuff, but mostly Sue. Take a look or she’ll punch you in the taco!

Seriously, watch the entire video. I know it’s 3 minutes, but honestly, what else are you going to do? Hmmm… you’re reading this drivel, so you must really not have much to do with yourself.

If you, still didn’t watch the entire video, I going to puncture your tires. Then the soul of your childhood puppy.

OMG, STOP READING AND FINISH WATCHING THE DAMN VIDEO!

Good, now go watch Glee.

My friends, I hope you are well. Unlike most souls who stay home or go to the beach when they go on vacation, El Modelo Negro does it right! I just got back from a jet-setting week in Chicago, New York & DC. This trip was not for the faint of heart, nor for those who can’t handle their liquor.

I may still be a little delirous…from jet lag, but let me fill you in on the highlights:

Chicago still loves me:

I'm on top of the world, well at least Millennium Park.

Notre Dame, There is still NO PLACE LIKE IT!

I shall lift thee from thy reflecting pool!

New York still is a dream-maker!

Quelqu'un me joindra!

Oh, and were you presented a Congressional Certificate on your vacation?

Who goes on vacation and gets an honor? Not you!

And I know many of you follow me on the twitter, and probably asked me what the hell #ETWF10 meant. If you were living under a rock, or don’t pay close enough attention, please watch this video:

Soon my Partner in Crime, Tawn and I, will chronicle all of the previous week’s stories into some fun blogs. Plus, don’t think there isn’t a video to follow up to the promo vid. That should be complete very soon! But definitely check out our fan page for more post throughout the week.

Yes… we have a fanpage, SUCKAS!

And definitely check out my homie Tawn’s page: Chicken and Ketchup (She posts a hell of a lot more than me!)

Check you on the flipside, I’ve got a ton of pictures to upload, you know,  just to brag how fab I am!

I don’t get it. Maybe I am not supposed to get it because I am “an adult.” PREPOSTEROUS!

Sure, she is minimally talented and her tunes are catchy, but that’s the point of her job. She is supposed to entertain. But she is not crazy enough to pull of this schtick, nor is she talented enough to make us care. If anything, she is like that weird kid in school who no one really paid attention to outside of her mildly amusing pranks.

She reminds me of a court jester.

Of a small court, maybe like Liechtenstein or Monaco.

And really, who the hell does she think she is telling people that they are pronouncing AND spelling her name wrong. Its a made up name. It has a $ symbol… instead of an s. Is that supposed to make me think the checks are rolling in for her. Because seriously, M.C. Hammer couldn’t catch a break and Michael Jackson couldn’t pay his bills (alledgedly)

And Cher, Madonna & Britney had to dance/strip/sing/polarize to become single-moniker superstars,

but this chick thinks she’s something special because she buys her clothes at Goodwill?

Gag me with a spoon.

But this song, I’m not going to lie, is kinda catchy. Even if she swears that glitter is hardcore.

Because the only thing hardcore about glitter is when it gets stuck on EVERYTHING! And in your eye. Have you ever had glitter in your cornea? It. Ain’t. Fun.

Not even the eye patch.

So if anyone can answer the riddle of what this woman’s deal is, I will bake you a cookie.

And no, Modelo does not bake, so it will be store bought. But it will be the best damn store bought cookie you have ever had. Possibly a red velvet cookie. Wouldn’t that be awesome. Someone needs to patent that… like yesterday!