Two weeks ago, while sitting in my homie's tattoo shop (Ink Sessions Tattoo in North Hollywood) I met Diego "Chico" Corrales. It's not at all uncommon to have celebrities in these places, especially with one of the best and well known artists in Los Angeles. Mostly rappers, musicians,basketball players and boxers. They pay top dollar for their ink, and are always happy with their art. The funny thing is that when I came in to visit, I was the celebrity. I cold tell that it bothered him to see my homie put the tattoo gun down and remove his gloves. Even more when he bullshitted with me for the next 20 minutes without so much as a second thought. But my homie Abel is in no need of clients. His waiting list is about a year long. Corrales turned out to be okay in the end. But this got me thinking of people I would like or would have liked to meet. Here they are in no particular order:

Bernie Mac. I just think that he's a funny dude and would be fun to hang out with. How could you not like a guy who uses the word summumabitch.

Redd Foxx. He made me laugh my ass of with quotes like "Beauty may only be skin deep, but ugly goes all the way to the bone." I knew him as Fred Sanford from "Sanford and Son." You remember this don't you? ==>

Jessica Alba. Do I even need to explain why???

Tupac Amaru Shakur. I'd have liked to get drunk and party with him. The one person I think would understand me on all levels.

Bigfoot. I'd like to ask him if he raped or had a sexual encounter with someone in my early family history that would explain the unnatural hair growth I'm experiencing these days. Not only that, when he least expected it, I cap his ass and sell him on Ebay, thereby making my fortune. Hey, one can dream right?

Who would you pick? Please don't say God or Jesus, that's a given. Who would you be and why?

I think I may be the last human alive who hasn't been lured into the whole Starbucks coffee revolution. There seems to be one opening up on every other corner. Everywhere I go, I see it. I've enjoyed a cup of coffee before, with maybe a small swig of milk in it and lots of sugar. But words like expresso, latte, cappuccino, frappuccino, amaretto, and double shots, mean nothing to me. And maybe I would take the time to find out if the line at those places didn't go out the door. Hmm...let's see. Should I go into a 7 eleven and buy a big ass cup of coffee for 75 cents with little or no wait, or wait for an hour and pay 3.50+ for a cup at Starbucks? That's a tough one. It might be the best damn coffee known to man, but it doesn't appeal to me. I guess I'm a weird fucker, but I seem to remain old school. Here are some things that I have yet to enjoy:

Nope. Never read a book or seen a movie.

Politics. ZZZZzzz.

Or fashion trends of any kind. It's funny, but I've dressed the same since about 1980. Yeah, just jeans, jerseys and sweatshirts. Though some may find it boring or tacky, I'm very comfortable in it. I do own suits and dressier clothes which I use on occasions that require it, but other than that, I've stayed the same.

What do you think, am I really missing out?

I know I said I'd never go back after last year, but guess what? I changed my mind. I blame IN-N-OUT. I heard the burgers calling my name in a seductive manner. I couldn't resist. I just got back on Sunday. I spent a little more than a week there. I didn't have any adventures this time around. I stayed away from areas I knew were risky. It was cool. But I did see something I liked ===>

God bless California! If only for the fashion. Of course, I felt like a dog under a buffet table. Just licking his chops and wishing he had all the good food...knowing full well that he wouldn't get anything. Not that it matters. I mean, I'm well past my prime, walking with three kids and holding S.O.'s purse...not exactly fighting women off me. I swear, maybe it was all the years of watching The Gong Show back in the 70's, but I clearly heard the loser tune in my head as the pretty girls just walked past me without so much as a flirty stare. Getting old sucks. ===>

Yes, that's right, mi gente...I have decided to update yet again! Not so much to get out of the funk I've been in lately, or because I actually slept for 6 hours today, no,no. I have another reason, and THAT reason is the best reason for me to post...that's right...I had an idea. Well, actually, not really on idea...more like something that made me think, and made me mad. Will you please just get on with it, Miguel??? Ok,ok...hold your horses people. I was just getting to that. 

Let me just say that I have no problem with people making paper in their own way. I respect the hustle. In fact, I give you props for making money. And no, I don't feel bad for people who get scammed into giving their money to these people. It's all good. If you think that Fluffy and Epona can send messages to some plastic looking lady about why they're not eating or stopped being playful, so be it. If you think that Walter Mercado can tell you who will be pokin' you in the rear this weekend if you follow his advice...hey, knock yourself out. And if you think that you can talk to your dead Tio Petacrancio and asking him where he buried his treasure by means of some bandana wearing chick looking at a giant snowy village (minus the village), more power to you, my friend. But, having said that, I do have a point that I refuse to cross. I have to draw the line somewhere. This goes into my, "Ah, hell NO!" category. What the hell are you talking about, Miguel? I was just getting to that!

Call Toll-Free: 888-686-2200
International Calls: 415-978-9447
victoria@victoriabullis.com

Yes. I would have left you alone, lady. But you crossed the line. Bitch! You more than crossed the line! You had a nice little scam going. Clever, clever! That's right...interview celebrities from beyond the grave. Genius! I mean, who can refute that you can do this? Who's to say that you really can't? Brilliant! Until I read recently that you have contacted Tupac Shakur and told Stuff Magazine all about it.  Among the things said:

• Yes, Tupac knows who killed him but does not want to say anything (because it's dangerous)
• Tupac is in heaven and hanging out with Biggie Smalls everyday
• Tupac calls Biggie "Baby"
• He's both a content and a tortured soul
• Tupac also hangs with Abraham Lincoln
• Tupac was a white general during the Civil War in a previous life

I took the liberty of writing this lady...but I have to go to work now. I'll update in the AM, and copy the letter I wrote to her.

THOUGHTS?

*Here is the letter I sent:

What the hell, Miguel? Why haven't you updated? Well, I'll tell you...lack of sleep causes uncreative minds. Why keep posting about how work sucks and how I hate the hours? Boring right?

So. I'm a firm believer in staying out of people's business in real life. Not only that, I also believe that nobody is above a good ass kicking. And even further, I feel that there's a reason to smack anyone if they cross the line. Still, the macho tendencies prevent me from ignoring it when a man strikes a woman. It's just not my thing. This isn't to say that I have abstained from putting the pimp hand down in my life, but I can honestly say that I never struck a woman in anger in these 41 years. This morning I saw it while shopping at Staples. I was walking towards my car when I heard a couple arguing two cars down from me. Before I reached my car, it had escalated to a higher level. The guy had smacked her hard accross the face! She came at him again and he repeated it. This time she remained crying on the floor. I had to fight every urge in me to go and give the guy the laying on of hands to cure him of his wickedness. By the time he saw me, I had already discarded my bags  and already next to his woman, asking her if she was okay. "Mind your fuckin' business, asshole."

Yeah, Miguel. Who the hell do you think you are? That's what you get for trying to get involved! You forgot the code. Still. What was she thinking??? Which brings me to the question ===>

Why do women put up with abusive men?

*****UPDATE****

And of course, my favorite ones:

                                        (To be played while you read the post)

Steam seemed to be rising from the hot asphalt. The hot California sun was baking the back of my neck, as I squinted in preparation for a possible fly ball that could come in my direction at any second. After all, Benjamin had a knack for hitting home runs. I was ready. Suddenly, she walked outside her apartment to retrieve her parent's mail. It didn't matter that Benjamin was already making his way to second base...I was frozen in time. Her name was Susana. That was the first time I had seen an angel. 'Ol Karen Carpenter was singing in my ear...I could swear it! Benjamin could have casually strolled through the bases, it wouldn't have mattered...I wasn't to be interrupted.

You can picture it can't you? I'm sure everyone has similar experiences and different songs that evoke similar feelings and memories. I find it so amazing that we are affected so much by music. Personally, I listen to a wide range of music. From Classical to Gangsta' Rap, and everything in between. I bet that everyone has a song that they associate a significant memory with...and you already know that I'm a curious bastard, so:

Name a song and the event that the song reminds you of. Ok?

If you get what I'm saying, then you're probably doing alright. Damn, these days have been hectic for me. I've been living life backwards as of late. It seems they needed me on 3rd shift at work and now I sleep during daylight and work at night. It's just not natural.

I guess that if you look hard enough, you can see the good in any situation. However, I'm still looking. I'm sure it's there...somewhere. I don't know, maybe the fact that I have weekends off? I'm not complaining mind you.....okay, maybe I am.

Moving on...

So I was getting a haircut yesterday. New barber. Yes, I'm old school. No beauty salon for this old cholo, clippers only! Anyway, something happened to me that I had to tell you about. Maybe someone out there can shed some light on the matter.

So I'm sitting there nervous as can be (because it always freaks me out to have a stranger behind me) and trying to answer his small talk with as little talk as humanly possible. But then I noticed that this guy kept accidently (???) putting his nasty crotch on my elbows that were resting on the chair. He did it a couple of times, at moments that he seemed to be concentrating on the fade. I didn't really think anything of it, but after a few times, I got pissed and said, "Say man, you put your dick on me again and I'll strangle you with the cord from your clippers...you understand  me?"

"Um, sorry...I didn't realize."

And that was that. Needless to say he bent in half rainbow positions the rest of the haircut just to be safe. I tipped him 6 bucks for the discomfort of cutting my hair at a distance. But then it dawned on me. Wait a minute. How could a man not "realize" that? I know where my compadres are at all times. and I sure as hell would notice if it was rubbing up against some dude. Yuck!

And that is what I'm asking. Has anyone ever had something like this happen to them? Come on, don't wuss out on me. I want to know your thoughts on the matter. Do you think it can be an  honest mistake like he said? Has any man ever put his bolas or hands on you by accident?

Clouds of marijuana smoke can be seen rising towards the sky. The powerful smell is detected with each breath. The moonlight makes it possible to see the silhouettes of bodies grinding to the rhythm of the music. The music is blaring. The bass can be felt, so as to give one the feeling of being part of it somehow. Alcohol is flowing through everyone's veins. The scene would be comical to an outsider...everyone holding a beer bottle in one hand and exploring each others bodies with the other. There are no thoughts of anything else. Everyone involved knows where this will lead eventually. That is certain. But the party would be interrupted on this night...

An unrecognizable car causes interest as it pulls into the yard. Bodies scatter and find cover. Guns come out for the first time. False alarm. His face is recognized and someone yells to no one in particular, "It's Nurse."

Everyone resumes the party and within seconds, the moment is forgotten. But I see fear in Nurse's eyes as he makes his way towards my direction. Something is wrong, I can see that even before he speaks.

"They killed Joe Boy!" he says, somewhat out of breath.

"Those fuckers from Chorrencia chased us forever until Joe Boy fucked up and we ended up at a dead end. I ran but they caught Joe Boy."

My closest friend at the time. The news caused immediate feelings of nausea. Scenes of a beaten, bloody corpse laying in the middle of an unknown street, filled my mind. Though I said nothing, I felt an emptiness that has never been filled, even after all these years. We grew up together. Now he was dead because he wasn't familiar with the streets he was driving on. Tonight, there are no feelings of retaliation. Not on my part. I lost something that caused me to be overcome with emotion. I just wanted to be alone. I never saw my friend again. The closest I got was standing in front of his closed casket at the wake. They were unable to fix his face.

Today is your birthday. You would have been 38 years old. I love you still. I remember you. May you rest in peace homie.

I still don't know that I agree that they should be teaching sex education in 5th grade, so it came as somewhat of a shock when my son came home asking me questions about stuff he's learning in school. After the initial shock, which I can best describe as ice water waking you from a deep slumber, I smiled and said. "Keep it in your pants boy...your too young to be thinking about that stuff."

After a few hours, I realized that I better take advantage of this situation and not make the same mistakes that my parents made. So I called the little nasty hellion (no longer my innocent little man) over and told him to come outside with me. We sat under a tree in my backyard and discussed it. It surprised me how much he knew. But his question was about sperm. How could there be "Between 200 and 600 million sperm cells are normally released in each ejaculation?" This is what was in the textbook.

"So dad, you mean that there are millions of kids living in my testicles right now?" 

"Um...well, yeah, technically speaking son, I guess there is."

 "Don't some swim around and get lost and end up going down the toilet when I pee?"Does that mean I'm killing them when I pee?" "Isn't that a sin?"

I had to keep a straight face. But really, I didn't know what to say. My thought was that of me not even thinking about sending those "kids" down the drain...or as I like to think about it...their first water slide on their way to the ocean. I know, I'm a weirdo. Ha! I told him that I'd talk to him some more about it tomorrow. Damn! I wasn't ready for this talk.

Any advice?

I find myself in between the two most days. I guess we all have days like that. It seems that the older I get, the more I weigh out pro's and con's in most situations before I react. I suppose I'm finally growing up. It took long enough!

*BTW, I made the last post private (I didn't delete it) because someone asked me to as a favor. Some things must remain private I suppose. I do understand, but I hate to leave it unanswered. I apologize. I do however have to respect their wish.