Bridge Bumper Cars

I had a friend who once told me she didn't want to get on my bad side.  Well, Mr. Driver Dickhead of a transport van on the Anzalduas International Bridge, you got on my bad side. The left side. Where there was no lane. What made you think you could forge your own lane and then try to bump me out of the lane I was sitting in for at least 10 minutes?  And then you throw your hands at me like it was my fault?  Congratulations, Mr. Dickhead, you made it on my revenge list. Since I wasn't in a big hurry to get home, I told the border patrol agent that you hit me. It was obvious because I've got black smudges on my truck where your right mirror was pushed in. Both of our cars were flagged and we had to pull over.  If you had apologized, I would have let it go. The damage wasn't that bad. I have an old truck. It's got marks and dings. But nooooooo, Mr. Dickhead claimed it was my fault because I didn't move over and let him in. Hey, buddy, I had no where to move and I waited in line for my turn. I didn't come barreling past the cars behind me in an unauthorized lane. The border patrol agent asked me if he should call the police to make a report. Darn right!  It only took the police 30 minutes to arrive and about another 30 minutes to make a report. So that means the people sitting inside your transport van had to wait all because you were in a big-ass hurry and tried to cut into my lane illegally.



I might let it go at that. It's probably not worth pursuing any further. The police report won't be ready for 3-5 days and then I have to contact my insurance company to contact Mr. Dickhead's insurance company. Here are the pictures of the truck.  I would like to hear the opinion of all in Bloggerland who read this. Should I take this to the Supreme Court on principle?  Or just grumble and let it go?

Weird Mexican Candy

Being a teacher, I've gotten my share of birthday invitation treat bags filled with candy. Most of it is weird to me. In one I received a plastic spoon with some sort of sticky substance covered in chili powder. Found out later it was tamarindo, whatever that may be. I didn't eat it. I didn't try it. I didn't want to and I still don't. I swear that these kids will put chili powder on anything. Pizza, fruit, chocolate... 

In the same bag with the sticky spoon, I got something that looked like a freezie, a slushie-like juice that has been frozen in a long plastic wrapping. Except it wasn't frozen. Out of curiousity I opened it. It was a jello-like

substance but my bet is it contained more than extracted collagen from ground up bones of pigs and cows. I didn't eat it. I didn't try it. I didn't want to and I still don't. 

But here is the weirdest of all. Tia Cuka Instant Gum.  Below the Instant Gum it says ready in 3 minutes with chicken.  I've never heard of gum that needed 3 minutes to be ready. That doesn't seem very instant to me.  I will take my instant gum without chicken, thank you very much. By the way, I didn't chew it.  I didn't want to and I still don't. 

How The Term "Flying Dryback" Now Replaces The Ethnic Slur "Wetback"

I don't normally blog about my students other than in general terms, but this is just too funny not to make a comment.  Next week we are having a science fair and all primary students have to come up with a project that is testable by using the scientific method. One student's proposal is inventive, to say the least. I shall call this student "Jay". In this process, the students need to ask a question.  Paraphrasing Jay's question, this student wants to know how one can pass to the USA illegally without getting wet crossing the Rio Grande River.

The question piqued my interest. The plan is to "invent a computer algorithm to cross the river without getting wet."  Jay plans to build a model catapult to demonstrate.  Jay wraps up the research by stating... My hypothesis is we can throw someone to the USA across the Bravo River (Rio Grande) and land in something soft like a bed in a precise location and change the term of wetback for the better one of "flying dryback". 

Stay tuned folks. I'm dying to see how this will turn out.

UPDATE on the flying dryback story:  Although Jay's premise was good, I'm afraid his hypothesis, data anaylsis, and conclusion were lacking so he didn't win the competition. But he did build a model catapult and attached it to his 3-fold display board which he demonstrated by flinging plastic people towards a target.  For creativity, he got the maximum in points. I expect great things to come from this student. 

Mexican Balls

As of lately I don't normally disrupt my peaceful weekends by going to Reynos-hell, but I do have several friends there and I do like to see them sometimes. So that is how I found myself on the Pharr bridge today coming back to Texas. I hate to cross on Sundays because the traffic is worse on weekends. As I am sitting in line for an hour with my window down, the man one lane over started a conversation with me.  He appeared kind of cute so I let the conversation inch on as our cars slowly rolled to the checkpoint. The conversation was abruptly terminated when his lane was coned and I passed on through. (Gee, it seems like it is usually me that gets stuck in the coned lane).  About a mile down the road, I stopped for gas and bathroom break.  When I returned to my truck, I found this man waiting by my truck.  Wow!  He followed me. Should I have been creeped out or impressed?  Well, here is my initial breakdown:

1. His name is Victor, an electro-mechanical engineer from Rio Bravo.  Good, so far, because he has an education. And, hopefully, a job too.
2. He is driving a decent car with Mexican plates and has a visa to enter the United States.
3. Speaks some English although I think my Spanish is better.
4. He is kind of cute.
5. He told me I am pretty.

After introductions and getting to know basic facts, he invited me to go somewhere to talk.  I told him there is a place called Cafe Junction in the center of Pharr and we agreed to meet there.  At the cafe, he confesses that he is married, but has no children.  Should he get any points for being honest?  I told him there is no point in going farther because I was not interested in anyone who is married.  He actually had the nerve to ask if it was that big of a deal??

Here comes the big Mexican balls part.  He pinned me against my truck and tried to plant a kiss on me. Eeewww, eewwww eeewwwww!  And the final breakdown:

1. He smelled like smoke.
2. He is married.
3. He tried to stuff his tongue down my throat while pinning me up against the truck.

Victor, since I don't have your phone number and you don't have mine, let's make this public and perfectly clear... I WILL NOT SEE YOU AGAIN.

Uniformity

I don't mind wearing a uniform to work.  It takes the guesswork out of what to wear. I wake up at 5 AM and after the shower I don't need to stand in front of the closet wondering if it is appropriate to wear a leopard print spandex jumpsuit... if I had one.  But ya'll know what I mean. I don't have to find something appropriate to wear because it has already been picked out for me.  Monday is Honor's Day so we all wear our white shirts with the school logo. Each day of the week is color-coded. 

Mexico doesn't have a corner on the market for requiring employees to wear a uniform. My sister is a nurse and you won't find her wearing a leopard print spandex jumpsuit to work. But I do say that Mexico takes the uniformity to the nth degree.  The other day all the teachers were standing outside for a group photo in our Thursday's striped shirt. We were lined up according to height so you know I was pushed to the back and we had to clasp our hands together. Standing with terminal smiles on our faces, the whole picture taking process was stopped because I had my hands clasped in the wrong direction.  Heaven forbid if I were to stand out because my hands were grasped together with left over right especially since I am no where near the front due to my giganormous 5'8" stature. 

http://www.viestiphoto.com/

All students in Mexico must wear uniforms including all government and private schools. They look like Catholic school uniforms as you can see on the left. (These are not our school uniforms. I borrowed the photo from the Google images.)  However, some of the staff take it to the nth degree on enforcing rules. Students have been pulled out from playing at recess because their shirt is not tucked in. Oh, please!  Recently I've seen a rash of written reports where students lose grade points and parents must sign because students are wearing a wrong shirt on the wrong day. Or they have a black stripe on their shoes when they are suppose to be pure white.  Or the hair accessory isn't pure white.  What would happen if a student showed up with black nails and purple hair? It would be total chaos and all order in the universe would cease to exist. 

A Bullet By Any Other Name Wouldn't Kill As Sweet

I had completely forgotten about this bullet that I had found on the streets of Reynosa over a year ago. At the time we didn't have daily shootouts. It seemed a little odd to find a bullet on the street, so I shoved it in some basket at home and promptly forgot about it. Until today.  I was cleaning out and repacking all my junk that I brought home from Reynosa when I ran across it.  I'm not exactly a bullet expert but it seemed a little odd looking to me. I stuffed it in my pocket and then went out to dinner with the folks where we met a good friend of mine named BG. He looked at the bullet and said it was a Winchester S&W Black Talon hollow point bullet. When it hits the flesh it makes a small hole and then expands and rotates until it exits the size of a baseball. Yikes!  By the way, BG does not stand for 'bad guy'. Those are his real initials and he is a good guy but why does he know so much about bullets?  He is a native Texan so I don't need to explain more, do I?

Now I'm wondering if I should be concerned about a potential dangerous projectile sitting on the shelf next to my perfume. I started to do a little research on the internet.  Wikipedia site was full of big words some of which I understand (expansion, penetration), some I don't (hydrostatic shock).  And here is a little chart on this website where the only thing I get from it is brain injury is possible or probable.

Thank goodness for Mythbuster's episode about exploding bullets.  They can explain scientific things to me in language I can understand. Basically, when it comes to bullet safety, I shouldn't put a bullet in the oven and bake it like a pie. I probably shouldn't throw it on the campfire and roast it like a weenie either, but, according to Mythbusters, it probably wouldn't be lethal.  Maybe I should get rid of the bullet.  It is possible that if I am too dense to understand the Wikipedia technical mumbo jumbo I might be tempted to bake a Winchester S&W Black Talon hollow point bullet pie some night when fueled by a few rounds of tequila.

I'm Sure They Are Plotting Some Sort Of Revenge.

Daisy, Minnie and Sam

It's not too often I catch all 3 together. I think they are plotting something to take me down all because I dared to groom them. Their looks show exactly how much they appreciated my efforts. Especially the one in the middle with the demon eyes. Miss Minnie normally jumps on my bed for love and attention. Today after the bath she jumped on my bed and growled at me. And the Sam Cat is telling me where to go and how to do it. Miss Daisy, normally the affable one, won't even look at me.

I wonder what my fate will be?  While they put their diabolical plan together to eliminate me at least they will look and smell good with trimmed hair and toenails.