I've found my Justin Bieber

... not because he's a good singer, or a good person, or anyone to be considered a role model BUT... I've found my Justin Bieber.

You know? that artist that you are willing to go "the distance" to see him LIVE, pay no matter how much tickets are because he's super HOT and once you're are the place you get nervous and as soon as he jumps on stage you become one of those 12-year-old screaming brainless pre-teens??

Yes, I found my Justin Bieber.

Last night Shelley and I drove 2 hours to Columbus (rush hour... ugh!) and 2 hours back to see Juanes in concert.
As part of our "Girls just wanna have fun PLUS we are two single girls who need some eye candy from time to time not because Cincinnati's male market is not good enough but we are surely looking for something outside the state lines" plan... we went the the Palace Theater in Columbus and behaved as any preteen would do so at a Justin Bieber or what's-their-name-One-Direction-maybe-? concert.

Yes, we screamed, we cried, we jumped and danced and lost our voices and were not able to wake up the next day.

One of our guy friends offered to go with us to keep us company but, honestly, I'm pretty sure he wanted to go from the very beginning.
Note to self: I love my friends!!

We were sitting a couple of feet away from the stage  and... OH MY GOD!! yes, that hunky piece of meat is H-O-T.

We sang screamed and danced every single one of the songs and whenever he came close and touched another girl's hand we would scream:

ME! ME! ME!! 

TOUCH ME!!! 

PAPACIIIIIIIIIITOOOOOOOOO!!!! 

TOUCH MEEEEEEEE!!

We cried when our love songs were playing... we held hands and hugged each other... stupid us.

Yes, just like your average preteen, I fought a security guard who tried to take my cellphone, just because I was trying to take a picture.. WTF?!?! yes, I can recall screaming in the middle of the concert to a guard: "You stupid son of a %^&*!! I didn't paid MY ticket to take pictures of your a$$!!".
Oh man... I honestly hope my mom doesn't read this!

My cellphone died 10 minutes after (go figure) so I had to youtube the experience.
I'm pretty sure Shelly got some good pictures while I was fighting "the man".

This is, pretty much, what the concert was like. We were standing front and center to the stage... super close. If you can see in the a couple of crazies in black t-shirts, jeans and pony tails jumping and screaming like someone is ripping out one of their legs... that's us.

For one night I became a teenager and I'm proud of it.

Thursday night I'm going to play dress-up, put on a little black dress, super high heels and go to the opera so... yeap.

Talking to myself

My friend Shelley is my best friend here.
She's the first one I told I was coming back to Cincy with a broken heart a year and a half ago.
She's the one that picked me up at the airport the moment I landed with two pieces of luggage, a camping backpack a carry-on, a purse and eyes full of tears.
She's the one that kept my head afloat and took me to a psychologist to help heal my wounds, sat me down and helped me bring my feet back on the ground.
She hugged me and kept me company.
She helped me find a roommate and a place to live.
She listened every time I wanted to talk about the exact same thing: Him.
She said things I needed to say and what I didn't want to hear.

I owe most of my happiness to Shelley.

Shelley's husband moved out of their house last week.
They are getting a divorce.
Shelley's heart is devastated.

Now is my turn to keep Shelley company; to help her pick up the pieces of a shattered heart and help her to put them together and learn to be happy again.
It's my turn to show her the city under different lighting: "single girl lights".
No, we're not going crazy... too crazy... yet.

Talking and listening to Shelley is like talking and listening to myself.
Who said that? Was it Shelley? Was it me?
Did Shelley or Mafe said that a year and a half ago? or was it a month ago?... last week... yesterday?

I miss him... It's hard to live without him but I must learn.
I hate him for not fighting for something so fulfilling and happy and... [sad puppy face].
I feel like a huge piano has been lifted from my back.
Since then, all my sleepless nights went away.
I'm too much for him to handle.
I helped him get to where he is... and this is the thanks I get?!?
He's dead to me. 
No, I don't miss him in bed... I miss talking to him. 
I'm the mean one, I lead him away from me, if he doesn't want me back it'll make sense.
It was my fault.
He's my best friend. I miss my best friend.
No, I'm not happy... but I think I found peace.
Sometimes I just want to call him and say "Are you watching Colbert tonight?!?! my stomach hurts from laughing so hard!!!".
This is the end. I have to face it, we're not meant to be together.
I can't do it! I need him!
I've moved on.
That son of a b*&*^&... I hate him!!
I love him.

I see dead people

"Dead people don't talk, dead people don't walk...
dead people don't write, dead people don't call you on the phone.
When dead people show up, they come as scary ghosts."

Mafe, March 2012.

I recently watched "Extremely loud and Incredibly close" as recommended by Largo.
"Watch it, we'll discuss it after you do. It's a really interesting movie, it's full of symbolism  You'll like it, I promise --- Nooooo, you won't cry, it's not THAT sad."

Man!! I cried 2/3 of the movie!

Typical story about a nice family, working dad, working mom, funky boy with Asperger syndrome who has an amazing relationship with his dad but he (the dad) dies on 9/11 (yes, overrated I know but wait... this movie is actually good).

They play scavenger's hunts around the house, around the city, play mental games and have inside jokes that only they understand.
On the "worse day", that's how the boy calls 9/11, the dad calls home trying to reach someone and let them know he's fine and letting them know how much he loves them (Cheesy, I know!!! but this movie is good, trust me). He leaves 6 messages on the answering machine. Each one of them sadder and more heart-breaking that the one before.

"If the sun were to explode, you wouldn't even know about it for 8 minutes because that's how long it takes for light to travel to us.
For eight minutes the world would still be bright and it would still feel warm.
It was a year since my dad died and I could feel my eight minutes with him... were running out."

One year later, the boy decides to extend those 8 minutes, and look for a way to reconnect with his dad.

He doesn't want to let go of him.
He finds clues all over the city about his dad; about his past and about his future.
He meets many different people and reconnects with people from his past.
He reconnects with the city.

Is the father really dead?
Who are the people he met along the way?
Are they important? What are their roles in this journey?
What will he find in the end?

Will he get the chance to talk to his dad one last time?
What would he say to him?

I'm not going to spoil the movie for you, it gets weird, annoying at times and super sad. All at the same time.
In the end, I found myself sitting in my living room laying on my new and fluffy red rug... thinking and crying.

What would you do if you had the chance to talk to a dead person?
Would you take the chance to grab 8 more minutes with them?
Would you ask for explanations or tell them all that's in your heart?
Would you listen or talk?
Would you take the risk of hearing whatever they have to say? even though it may break you apart?

Seeing dead people is not normal. It can be scary I guess.

Keep in mind that dead people are dead. Ghost never come back. Use your time wisely and enjoy those last 8 minutes... they'll never come back.

Bloody quesadillas

I checked my facebook timeline and I saw that a friend from a long time ago was in town for a wedding. I sent him a DM asking him out for a coffee or a drink and talk before he leaves... he's a super funny guy, I give him my number and hope for the best.
No, I'm not hitting on him. He's just a sweet guy. Let's call him "Pedrito".

Anyway, my Sunday goes pretty mellow: sleep a little more, clean my apartment, bike to the market, bike to the music hall, jazz concert at the music hall, bike home, have friends over to help me move some furniture and cook a couple of dishes for the week.

Just in the middle of the "I'm trying a new rice recipe with some weird rice I got on the marker. It's a really weird rice and I feel I need to measure the humidity and moistness of the mix"... the guy calls and asks me out for dinner.

OH MAN!!!!

Whatever, this guy is super funny and I haven't seen him in a long time... see you later rice! be a good boy and don't turn into risotto while I'm gone!!!

We make things easy and head to the bar/restaurant across the street from my house.

When we arrive, the bartender and some of the bar's regulars greet him as "Heeeeeeey!! Pedrito!!!" and "Heeeeeeeey!! Mafe!!!".
Oh God, have I become part of the bar regulars???

Anyway, the bartender greets Pedrito and asks him about one of his friends... and then, EVERY SINGLE PERSON sitting at the bar starts asking about the same dude. The same dude I can't talk to and don't know if I should try to talk to, and it kinda hurts to talk to and... oh crap!!
"Yeah, how is so-and-so?"
"Is he still living in ....?"
"Is he working at the...?"
"He's a really funny guy. I loved that one!"
"We miss him, specially during game season."
[What game? I don't know... but he was fun according to the geezer at the bar]

Oh man. Stab me with a knife and twist it a little more please?
And then... the bartender sees me and asks: "Wait... Mafe, didn't you come with HIM the last time he was in town?"
Great, my cover is blown.
I remember you guys looked as if you were...
What?
I didn't know you guys were...
Oh nooooooononononono, we're not. We're friends, that's all.
Tell him I said Hi next time you see him.
Suuuuure! [insert fake smiley face here].

Now Pedrito and Mafe sit down and are eating quesadillas, drinking, talking... talking... talking.
And since Pedrito is such a good friend with the dude... he starts talking about HIM.
Again.
Take the knife ouf of the wound, put some lemon on it and put it in again... and twist it.
Again.

You know what? I'm gonna call him and tell him I'm having dinner with you! He'll be jealous!!
Ay no Pedrito... it's ok, I'm sure he's busy. 
It's Sunday, he has time! It'll be fun! 
Pedrito no, don't bother.
Oh Mafe... don't be silly. Come on!
We're not THAT interesting, don't.... please?
Wait... it's ringing.
[Oh... mother of God, please don't pick up, please don't pick up, please don't pick up. I promise I'll be good, I'll go to Sunday mass... Dear Santa, I know I've been asking for a car but I'll change my Xmas wish for this one. I'll pet kittens, I'll repent, I'll be good... pleaaaaseeeee don't pick up!!!]

........... and in here you'll have the longest 30 seconds of my life .......

Voice mail... that guy is always so busy.
I'm sure he is, it's ok... some other time maybe [Thank you baby Jesus!!!]

Anyway, he's a good guy, it's just that sometimes he gets so busy...
I remember when went to ...
And then, there was this other time...
Last year, we went to San Diego and...

So, without me knowing it, I was listening to a ton of stories stories from this dude, I'm sitting in front of his best friend telling me what a good person he is, how much fun they had, how is he a great worker. Pedrito didn't know the last time the dude and I talked it got super ugly.
Pedrito was telling me everything I already knew.
Sweet Pedrito was stabbing me over and over and over again, making me feel stupid for what the dude and I did...

Something needs to be done. What? I honestly don't know.

Excuse me, I need to go to the hospital, I may bleed to death.

A little black dress

According to all fashion gurus, all women should have at least one little black dress in their closet.
That little black dress fashionable enough to look professional and pretty, but a dress that can be turned into a fun and sexy piece of wardrobe with a slight change of earrings, shoes or belt.

I had... none.

Nothing, I had one or two dresses that looked like XL moo-moo gowns, circus tents or ponchos.
Nothing pretty.

Today, I have... well... an orange one, a blue, a lilac, a gray, a green, a red, a brown one...  and THREE little black dresses,
I fit into small size dresses now. If you can't believe it, don't worry, neither can I.
From those 3 dresses, the first one was a present from my former roommate for my birthday last year.
The second was a Christmas present from my aunt Tita.
The third one was on sale and my friend told me I looked super cute in it so... I HAD to buy it.

Anyway.

This Friday was a friend's birthday and she wanted to go out for dinner and then dancing with all her friends.
She wanted her birthday to be something "fancy but fun".

It was a chance for me to wear one of my little black dresses.
The one with the cleavage is the only one I can wear in this weather... oh God!! why did I let my roommate give me that thing?!?!?!
I'm not comfortable showing that much skin.
I am truly NOT comfortable looking down and seeing 'all that' out in the open.
I am honestly NOT comfortable with that.

When I arrived at the restaurant, P&T asked me to sit in between them so I felt relieved.
"Sitting with the kiddies is going to make dinner easy" or so I thought:
P&T: Mafe!... you look pretty today.
Me: Thanks guys, that's sweet!
Yeah, you should wear more dresses like that. Your boobs look nice.
WHAT!?!?!?! Duuuuuuudes!!!!!!
Yeah, you look like the girls on tv.
Oh man...
Where are the moo-moos and the ponchos when I need them!?!?!?!
FUCK!!

Dinner's over, the kids and their parents leave, and the rest of us go dancing: Salsa, merengue... ing the night away.

I'm still feeling uncomfortable and I don't know if I can stand to long.
I'll probably leave early.

Yeah, I'll do that.

Then Mr. M., my coolest local guy-friend comes towards me...
MrM: "Parce", we can't let that dress go to waste (Parce = colombian slang for "dude")
Me: What are you talking about?
You never wear dresses and you don't go to work looking THIS HOT... we can't let that dress go to waste.
....
C'mon Parce... you look pretty. Dance with me?
....
I'm not going to apologize for telling the truth, you look good and you know it.
....
:P

And so we danced all night, every time he asked me to, he said the same thing: "C'mon, that dress is not going to be wasted", and smiled.

So yeah, every woman needs that little one black dress that makes her look super hot.

More important, every woman needs at least one male friend who's close enough to say good and bad things about you in your face.
A couple of babies will do the same, but keep in mind, kids don't have filters and they will blurt out the truth. Be ready for anything.

... We all need confidence boosts from time to time and I got two in one night.
 Life's good.

Mr. Big (iii)

What's up little lady?

Remember how last weekend I got a new/old bike?

Yes...

Well, this weekend I cleaned it, I fixed it and I bought a U-lock, not a chain... so it doesn't get stolen again and I have a new/old bike!!... AGAIN!!!!!

Cool!

I'm going to give it a name, but I can't think of something catchy.

Mmmmm...

Nati calls hers "Orange Clockwork", Juglar mentioned "Grace", Maja calls hers "Enterprise" and suggested "Lucrecia" like the girl from The Borgias...

Lucrecia was my grandmother's name.

Ohhhh... oops?
How about Matilda!

Awwww... like it!

Oh no! wait!!! call her LEIA!!!

Say whaaaaaaaaaaat??? why?!?!?!

We called my new car Luke, we can call your new bike Leia!

That's nice!!

Of course.

I gave Luke a present... what are you going to give my Leia?

....

What?
Let's just call it Matilda and be happy, ok?


So, to make things fun, LEIA LUCRECIA it is!!

Leia Lucrecia @ Mt Storm Park, Clifton.

Cincinnati, OH

Baby talk (part trois)

I have two amazing "adopted" nephews, a couple of 6-year-old twins. I'll call them P&T.
They come to my house and play, and jump all over the place... and clean!
Can you believe than?!? their two favorite "toys" in my apartment are my Swiffer mop and my vacuum... I love those two little monsters!!!!!!
They play Frisbee better than anyone I know, and yes, they love their iPads.

Anyway...

M: Are we ready for ice cream?
P&T: Yessssssssssssssss!!!
M: Ok, get in the car.
P&T: How come you're driving daddy's car?
M: It's the one with your baby seats.
P&T: They're called GROWING YOUNG BOYS seats.
M: Oh... my bad.

-----

(They met my cactus for the first time...) 
Careful little dudes! no touching... they're prickly!
No, they're no--- OWWWWW!!!
C'mon. Sit on the bed. I'll take those things out... let me get my tweezers.
No way!! you're not coming anywhere near us with those things.
Sit... down...
NO!
Sit... down...or I'll call your mom and she'll take them out.
O... k... let's not get violent... we're all friends here.

Ok, don't move...
It's not working!! It hurts!!
It's because I can't see... let me get my glasses...
(all better)
WOW... where can we find glasses like those?!?!?! Are those Iron Man's?!?!

-----

Mommy told us you were going to help us move to our new apartment.
Yes, I am.
Don't you want to play with us instead?
Dudes, I promised your mom and dad I'll help.
They need big and strong people, like M and E... 
I'm big... and strong and all that. Don't you think?
Dude... you get scared with the Monkeys when we play "Temple Run".
Shut up and give me the iPad!!

Wouldn't you be terrified if something like THAT was chasing you?!?!