Wanna Buy My Ferrari?

On the way to work Friday morning (which really sucked, by the way, cuz when I arrived I was stuck in a 4 hour BORING meeting all in Spanish so that's why I wrote this blog on a piece of paper to make it look like I was taking notes but I got this cool piece of paper that says I concluded the program), I saw a truck with a big red chicken decal on the back window. No words. Nothing to explain why the owner placed a big red chicken on his truck. Inquiring minds want to know.

Some car decals make sense. A very popular one is a tribute to some loved one who has died including their name, dates, and epitaph like "En las manos de dios" which means "In the hands of God".  Some are silly like the boy from Calvin & Hobbes peeing. I've read in the newspapers that the Mexican drug cartels use decals like John Deere to identify each other. Sorta puts a whole new meaning in John Deere's slogan, "Nothing runs like a Deere."  The latest trend is to sticker up the car, SUV, truck, and maybe even the John Deere tractor with Ferrari decals. This I don't get. Do they believe they'll fool me into thinking their Dodge truck is a Ferrari?  Well, if that works, I'm fixin' to slap a bunch of Ferrari stickers on my old pickup truck.  Maybe I can fool someone into buying it.

Big News Day

I can't decide which is bigger news to lead in the big news day so I will start in order in which things happened.

Mexican soldiers are taking over police duties in Reynosa.  I saw them today.  The soldiers are fashionably dressed in black and riding around in municipal police trucks.  I'll have to check with my sources to see if the Vista Hermosa neighborhood and its drug cartel members are still being guarded by members of the new police force.  I'll also check if the infamous drug corner is still paying out members of the police force to remain in business.  Maybe I'll drop in to the local municipal police substation to find out if the police commander is still extorting requesting donations to pay for his daughter's quinceañera.  Er, nope, on second thought I'll scratch that last one off the list.

And the other big news today is it rained the first time since September. I was confused at first when I saw wet stuff falling from the sky.  Long term memory recall took over and I remembered that it was called rain. Buckets of rain. I thought that the ground would be so parched it would suck it up faster than it came down. Nope. Even the earth around us forgot what to do with rain and the water just sat there in giant lakes all over the valley. Our school yard became the school swimming pool.  The evil plan I had concocted was foiled by the rain.  Today was the last day of school for students and I bought a bunch of candy for bingo prizes.  I planned to sugar-up the kids and send them home to their parents to drive them crazy. Muahahahahahaha.  My plan backfired when the thunderstorm rolled in and the electricity was cut off at 1 PM for the rest of the afternoon.  Without electronic gadgetry or even sufficient light to play board games it was tough to keep the sugar-filled kids from bouncing off walls.  I was ready to send them out to the swimming pool while it was thundering and lightning.  I created my own monster but I survived another day to make it back to Reynosa tomorrow.  Unless the former police commander is out looking for me.

If They Were Bald, They'd Look Like Mr. Clean

Every morning I see a group of middle school boys walking to school (not my school) in Reynosa wearing all white.  White shirt, white pants, white belt, and white shoes.  Not just Mondays when all schools in Mexico have Honors (flag parading and patriot song singing like our Pledge of Allegiance and singing Star Spangled Banner)  They wear this uniform Monday through Friday.  Now I'm thinking like a mother, not a teacher.  What sadistic school official came up with the brilliant idea for boys to wear all white school uniforms?  Obviously not anyone who ever raised boys.

An Impala Up My Wazoo

I was at a stoplight in Edinburg this afternoon and got rear ended hard. The truck, which shall be known from now on as "The Tank", didn't have a scratch. Unbelievable. The Impala that hit me had a pretty messed up bumper from my hitch. However, the impact made me hit a big 'ol unmarked Expedition. I didn't realize I had hit a deputy until he climbed out his SUV in uniform and badge.  So there I was sandwiched between two vehicles and I felt an electric shock in the middle of my back. Now there is an Edinburg Police Dept. report AND a County of Hidalgo report. By my estimation, 3 Edinburg cop cars, 3 deputy cars, and one ambulance showed up for the small fender bender.  My back is bit hurt, but I am taking pain meds.  I'm woozy as I write this.  Slurred speech, glassy eyes, and the inability to hold two thoughts together makes it, well, only slightly less than normal for me, right?   I'll proofread this tomorrow just to see how goofy I am tonight. Everyone was really nice and the guilty party was wearing a rosary, called me ma'am, and has insurance. The deputies and cops were very kind and efficient. Thank God it happened on the Texas side.  I don't even want to think about what would have happened on the other side. 

Buy It or It Will Be Blown UP

1998 Ford F150, V8, POS with no extended cab. Has 157,000 miles.  Uses a lot of gas and oil.  All scratches, dents, and rust included for free. Left front tire needs air filling about once a month.  I'm guessing it needs a new temperature gauge or something because when I sit on the bridge too long it will overheat. It is fine as long as the truck is in forward motion. Has a temperamental starter so it was rebuilt today.  Also has a fairly new switch and door lock due to some thieving creep who tried to steal it in Reynosa. No key for passenger door due to the original and only key was broke off inside the switch because a good Samaritan tried to help me out when truck was broken into in Reynosa. The heater doesn't work so it can be frigid driving in the winter. It does have new brake pads in front and the rotors were turned recently because it was going WUMP WUMP WUMP every time I applied the brakes. Also has a fairly new battery because it refused to start one icy morning in February.

Still interested?  Why?

Celebrating 100

100 times I've posted on my blog.  I should celebrate.  It doesn't usually take much for me to celebrate.  On Talk Like a Pirate Day, I celebrated at the local pub while saying witty things like, "Aye, mateys! Arghhh!"  Just as long as the beer is cold I am happy.

So here it is. My 100th post.  And it is a sign that is in Hidalgo, Texas, just short of the Mexican border.  Yes, I am concerned about the devastation caused by oil spills so don't be sending me hate mail accusing me of being an environmental-unfriendly insensitive boob. What I find odd about this billboard is it is located in an area where probably more than 50% of the folks do not read English. And of the 50% that might be able to read English, I wonder how many of them have lain awake at night with worry?  Can I call the hotline to report that I feel devastated because it never occurred to me that I should feel so bad that I need to call them?  More than once I've been tempted to call the hotline just to ask if this billboard was strategically placed in this location to repair the tarnished, oily image of BP.  

Saturday Morning Cowboy Movies

My sisters Deana, Lynn, and I have discussed what a traumatic childhood we all had.  While growing up, to get us out of the house, so the mother could have peace and quiet, Dad was politely asked compelled to take us to the movies. Of course, as soon as we jumped into the car sans seat belts we began begging to see the latest Disney flick as Mother had told him to do.  Dad was kind of the silent sort so he didn't say much.  This was back in the day when the 4-5 movie theaters in town only had one movie playing at a time, not like the mega-theaters of today.  So we would pull up to the theater only to see the marquee blazing with titles like "The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean" with Paul Newman, "Patton" with George C. Scott, "High Plains Drifter" with Clint Eastwood, or "The Cowboys" with John Wayne.  Back in the day, my mother didn't think these movies were appropriate for the 3-13 year old set. Especially since we came home quoting lines.


Stuttering Boy Wilson: Son-of-a-bitch. 
Wil Andersen (John Wayne): What did you say? 
Stuttering Boy Wilson: You god-damned son-of-a-bitch! 
Wil Andersen: Say that again. 
Stuttering Boy Wilson: You god-damned, mean, son-of-a-bitch! 
Wil Andersen: Say it faster. 
Stuttering Boy Wilson: You god-damned, mean, dirty, son-of-a-bitch! 
Wil Andersen: I wouldn't make it a habit of calling me that, son. 

Soldier: Where ya goin', General?
Patton: Berlin. I'm going to personally shoot that paper-hangin' sonofabitch. 

Now with the magic of satellite television, I can re-enjoy these flicks every Saturday morning on AMC channel.  And I do. Every Saturday morning. With Dad parked on his recliner. And me on the love seat.