Mexican Hot Tamale Craving Music

As of late

and by that statement I mean

as of always

something has been bothering me.

Drive straight into the Nevada desert.

Turn off main highway.

Drive farther.

Middle of nowhere.

The Spanish station is still crystal clear.

And you’re so far

in the middle of nowhere that your radio

doesn’t even work.

For those who are confused—

Not the Enrique Iglesias Spanish music.

I’m talking

the Mexican cantina

make you crave hot tamales

Spanish music.

Which makes me wonder—

Why?
How do they do it?

And most importantly,

what are all the good radio stations

—you know the ones people actually listen to—

doing??

Am I really supposed to believe that

Spanish stations have some secret technology

that allows them to broadcast to…

everywhere??

My solution.

Growl angrily at the radio.

Flip haphazardly through static.

Settle on Mexican hot tamale craving music.

5 second lapse.

Elect to drive in silence.

A Fridge List of Qualities

In the fall of 2007 there was a CES fireside.

The topic was marriage

and the qualities to look for in a spouse.

I did not actually attend this fireside.

Truth be told, I didn’t even watch it on T.V.

I was out actively evaluating spousal qualities.

Translation-I was with a boy.

My roommates however, were not.

They listened

and then decided to write these desirable qualities

on our apt. fridge.

A & I thought it would be nice to add

a few of our own chosen qualities.

They included things like—

Must be able to wrestle a bear.

With his eyes closed.

Or the capability and desire to make his own

sandwiches.

My roommates thought this list was incredibly

unfunny.

And erased it.

But as funny as they

didn’t find it

I think there were some good points on it.

As such I am rewriting—

The Fridge List of Desirable Qualities in a Man.

1. Must be able to wrestle a bear.

With his eyes closed.

Here is why.

Scenario.

We’re camping. Bear attack.

I mace the bear.

But miss

(because he is only a really huge, giant bear)

and hit my hubs.

In the eyes.

Now we’re dead.

False.

My husband is so cool he can fight a bear

with his eyes closed.

2. “All that I’m after is a life full of laughter.”

Life is so much better

when there is someone to laugh with.

3. Depthless curiosity.

4. Speaks another language.

Speaks to his kids in other language.

(Proven fact that this increases cognitive development

and my kids will probably need

every chance

they can get)

Does not speak to kids in other language about me.

5. Can fight a shark with one hand

tied behind his back.

Seriously though I don’t want to lose my husband to some

freak shark attack.

6. Sings.

Preferably like Josh Turner.

Preferably not like me.

7. Accepts the words I make up

and subsequently use on a daily basis.

8. “Let’s be adventurers.”

Lives this statement.

But in the non-pirate or creeper way.

9. Can outrun the wind.

While rocking a small child to sleep.

You just never know what situation might arise when

this quality will not only be important

but vital.

10. Starts water fights.

11. Will agree to live on a sailboat in the Mediterranean

for a minimum of “a short time”.

12. Must be able to grow facial hair.

The real kind.

Not the scraggly, patchy stuff.

I’m aware that this is not a complete list.

Yes, I know I didn’t mention

service, patience, integrity,

or a million other things I actually want in a husband.

That’s because this is a fake list.

Mostly.

I really would marry a man if he could wrestle a bear.

The Dummy's Guide to...

The heroine.

Awesome. Hilarious. Beautiful.

But most importantly

She leaves you feeling like a happier, more content individual.

Let’s call her A.

The Antagonist.

Redhead. Nice. Hopeless romantic.

But most importantly

Head over heels, crazy and madly, hopelessly in love with A.

Let’s call him Corey.

Current Status of A and Corey.

Not speaking. Not hanging out. Will not be dating.

How do you go from acquaintances with all

The possibilities of friendship in the future to

This complete and distant separation?

Let me explain.

How to successfully and completely estrange an individual

From wanting anything to do with you:

1. Lie to family, friends, their friends, total strangers

About every single aspect of your dating story.

Example.

Did you ever kiss A?

Yes.

When in reality you did not even cuddle, hold hands, and rarely hugged.

2. Tell boys/girls interested in your loved one that

You are in fact dating and very serious and have been for a long time.

Feign shock when they have no idea and are disgusted that

He/she agreed to a date.

3. Confess your undying love before, during, and after loved one tells you he/she has no feelings for you.

4. Insist they are wrong.

Insist they have deep, passionate feelings for you.

5. Tell them you know you are meant to marry him/her.

When he/she denies wanting to even date you insist that this is destiny,

The stars aligning.

6. Nickname him/her something that reminds you

Of fairy-tale love.

Like Topanga. From Boy Meets World.

7. Create a blog about Topanga.

Post pictures that way your nickname is completely obsolete and pointless.

8. Write poetry.

Gushy love poetry.

9. Come up with an arbitrary date months in the future.

Insist he/she promised to go on a date with you on that day.

Count down the days wistfully wishing for

The day you can see your loved one again.

10. Write blog posts’ insisting him/her having no feelings for you is

Just a phase he/she needs to overcome.

You, however, will never give up.

Use phrases like

“(Butterflies)”

Or

“She’s amazing and I just can’t give up. I can’t”

Easy, simple steps.

It worked for Corey and A

So it’ll work for you!

The Healing Properties of Ice Cream

An important lesson for boys:

Ice Cream heals all.

Literally.

An Example:

A boy broke up with me. I was ticked.

He asked me to hang out.

I said no.

He asked me on a date.

I said no.

He asked me to ice cream.

Done.

We got back together.

Also it’s practically impossible to eat ice cream and cry at the same time.

Don’t believe me?

Try it.

My favorite:

G’s Dairy

Double scoop-Huckleberry, Black Cherry-Waffle Cone.

It makes saving change during winter worth it.

Bathtubs and Gators

Sometimes I don’t know how to start my blogs. I have so many unwritten stories because I can’t begin. This is one of those.

Anyone I’ve ever told this has laughed and then informed me that the Everglades are nothing like it. To all of you I say Boo. Don’t ruin my imagination with your grown up nonsense. Some people conjure a beach in their minds. Maybe you go to the mountains. This is my place. Here I can think. Cry. Exist. Unfrustrate (Unfrustrate: The act of becoming frustrated undone. ex. Now that we have talked I am unfrustrated with you.)

Items needed to create Jessica’s place of solace:

1. Bathwater

2. Green shower curtain—Any will do but green works best

3. Shower water

When I was little I would turn on the shower, stop the tub, and lay down. The hot water would start rising and the shower water would bounce and make a mist that stung my face. Pretty soon my bathroom was steamy and humid and I became an alligator in the Everglades. Somehow it helped me calm down, relax, and process my life. I wish I could say I outgrew my childish fancies but to this day I still stop the tub and become Sasha the Herbivore gator who lives on 249 Marshvale Drive Everglades, FL 91304.

Q & A Session—

1. Are you aware that the Everglades look/feel/are nothing at all like that?

a. Yes. I don’t care. Of all the many places I want to see in the world I don’t know if I’ll ever go there. I don’t want my imagination to be overruled.

2. Why an Herbivore gator?

a. Have you ever watched movies about how alligators eat? It’s always the brave/stupid baby that is eaten. The baby is to trusting, walks right up to the water, drinks in a big satisfying gulp, and next thing you know BAM. The alligator strikes. Sasha the alligator is definitely an herbivore.

3. Do you know the difference between alligators and crocodiles?

a. No. For all I know crocodiles live in the Everglades.

I do think that Sasha could make an awesome children’s book. J— my awesome roomie, we may have to postpone our desert princess book and possibly you can illustrate Sasha and her adventures.

[Insert Sappy Vampire Title Here]

I’ve read the Twilight series. Correction—I’ve skimmed the Twilight series. Just enough to understand the story and wonder if the author had an editor…or spell check. It’s not that it isn’t a fantastic idea but the whole “I’m sooooo in love with him cus he’s sooooo totally hot, LOL” deal, well it’s not really for me.

Since the boom of vampire-crazy teenage girls I have noticed a worrisome change in reading options. Libraries all over the country have begun to designate sections solely to vampires.

Story Line Option 1: Girl falls in love with vampire. Should he kill her or will he love her back? Blah, blah, blah. Shoot me in the face.

Story Line Option 2: Girl wakes up a vampire. Oh no! Now all she wants is blood. She runs amuck kicking butt and sucking people dry. Until…she falls in love and discards blood once and for all. Bleh!

I blame SM for the crisis that has befallen our beloved literature. And to right the aforementioned crisis I am writing my own vampire book. I understand none of you have enough time to go to the library, locate designated vampire section, and then read the whole book so I have, kindly abridged it here.

[Insert sappy title here—something about midnight, a silver moon, blood, and love]

Girl sees boy. He’s dreamy. Although really, really white. Oh well, still sooo totally fab looking. Maybe he should think of tanning? Why is he so white? But dang he is just gorg.

Boy sees girl. She looks pretty…He walks towards her. Slowly. Their eyes meet. She holds her breath the way all girls do when a cute boy is around. She stumbles out a hello. He smiles. Then kills her and sucks her blood. She did look pretty…pretty much just like a delish steak.

The end.

If you don’t like that ending then you are in luck. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure.

Alternate Ending: Vampires don’t exist.

Side Note: I don’t mean to hate on fantasy literature. It is actually my favorite genre. When it is well written and has a point. Unfortunately, I do not count some girl drooling over some boy as a plot.

Fish Sticks for the Hippies

I’m not a member of PETA (Secret—I had to look up the correct acronym spelling) but I am a big fan of the Earth, and animals, and trees. For example, I love getting caught in thunderstorms. The smell of rich, dark earth stops my feet and I can’t help but exist within the moment. Stilled and trapped. Until of course it begins to hail. No one likes rain that much.

Newport Beach Dock—There are tons of fishermen. They toss the line out and within 10 seconds pull it back with three fish. Hooked. I’m pretty sure fish sticks are bigger than these fish. My curiosity is going crazy. These people have coolers full of nugget-sized fish. What do they do with them? I ask the nearest fishermen. Possible mistake. He doesn’t speak much English and I’m being generous with that assessment. The following conversation ensues—

What do you do with all of these fish? Do you eat them? Are they for bait?

No. Just catch.

You don’t use them for anything? At all? Not even for catching bigger fish?

No.

(I think it was at this point I may have “accidentally” switched to attacking. Poor man.)

So…why are you catching them? Why don’t you throw them back? You don’t even eat them? Are you kidding? Do you know how many fish you have?

(I’m going to guess this is the point where he decided lying would be the best way to get rid of the “crazy girl who cares about the fish”.)

Oh no, no we eat them.

How do you cook them?

Cook?

Yea. How do you cook them? Do you fry them? Filet them? What spices do you use?

Oh uh well we filet them. You know and use…(at this point I saw a seal. Considered tossing a fish to the creature. Decided against stealing. Honestly though I just can’t throw that far.) I smile and say bye.

Utah’s Free Fishing Day—June 4. I’m excited. I’m gonna be ticked if all I catch is Fish Bites. After all, I didn’t write down his recipe.