The Jolly Ranchers

Everyone's favorite local cover band, The Jolly Ranchers, did a nice photo layout with the good people at TheNightScene. Stop by their site and check out some of the pics.

Disconnected

The last several days have been torturous for me. Several days ago, or what seems like eight blue moons ago, I inexplicably lost my 'smart phone'. Apparently, while my phone is "smart", I still remain the same-ol' clumsy and forgetful person of always.

I did not know just how much I depended on my phone, how addicted I am to it, or how my life is intertwined to it to such a degree, that I feel lost without it.

Since I misplaced my phone last Friday, I have been "out of touch" with the "outside world". I have missed texts, forwards, tweets and Facebook updates. I'm always on it checking scores and highlights, especially during boring dinner conversations. Heck, I have even missed several important phone calls and have needed to resort to making calls from a dreaded payphone outside seedy convenient stores, like some third rate pimp circa 1991.

Not only do I have to make calls from a payphone, but I have to be fumbling around, looking everywhere for phone numbers of my contacts. Since all my contacts' phone numbers are stored on my cellphone, I don't have to dial anymore, hence I don't have anyone's phone number memorized, except for my mother's house because she's had the same number since the dbc*.

I've been feeling disconnected without my cellphone. I haven't even been able to take pictures of silly things around town to post up on this blog.  I use my cell phone camera for that. What's worse, I been forced to listen to local radio instead of my TuneIn Radio App on my webOS phone. That is just cruel punishment.

For now, I still don't have a cell and can't really get one until about a week from now.  Until then, I will remain disconnected from reality and might even have to resign myself to actually make pleasant conversation during dinner.


*dbc = days before cellphones

Imposter hands

Imposter hand does alambritos

 
I had me a carne asada recently with a compadre. We blazed some alambritos over a scorching hot fire and heard sad Cornelio Reyna songs. Good times in the bordertown. BTW, that is his hand over the fire. He wanted to be an imposter and I was afraid I'd burn my hand.

Mr. Sushi

Mr. Sushi, are they primos of Mr. Corn?

Mr. Sushi (on North Arkansas Av.) is the latest sushi place to be opening up in our smelly city. As we all know, sushi is long considered a food staple in this border city, so adding another sushi restaurant, to an already crowded field, was considered a no-brainer. (sushi breakfast tacos anyone?)

So now with Mr. Sushi opening its doors soon, Sushi Madre better watch its back!

Cindylu and fiance drop by my blog

 

I felt honored recently, when my blog crush, CindyLu from Loteria Chicana, dropped by and left some comments on my blog. It was a total OMG-like moment for me. 

I had written a short entry, some time back, on her impending marriage, and I guess it carried across the internets. It was a too cool moment for me. At least now she knows I exist. Yeay. 

BTW, congrats to her and her fiance again. Weddings make me cry.

  (read their comments below)

 

cindylu said...

Thanks for the well wishes! *blushes*

May 27, 2011 6:07 PM

Seanathan (a.k.a. Cindylu's fiancèe) said...

May that be a lesson to you: pursue your Internet (and physical) crushes no matter how far away they are.

Raspa Time

Con tanto calor, se antoja una raspa de fresa. Los invito.

Don't worry about the spelling. The raspas are still good.

The Revolution will not be Televised

A personal hero of mine, Gil-Scott Heron, passed away yesterday. His lyrics to his
spoken word poem/song are on my Zune favorite playlist since forever. Read the lyrics
here.

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.


(update. I also recommend the song, "Home is Where the Hatred Is". Careful with the needle marks, though.)