You and me - we're two peas from the same pod, only to be torn apart and sold in different cans.

Sometimes an opening line on a blog can be really, really difficult. I just found myself sitting here at a pause. literally. like a 20 second pause, staring at that damn can picture and trying to figure out what the Hell to write. I opened this blog with certain things to write about, certain things to rant about, certain things to lie (or not) about.

Suddenly I start writing and every thought in my head I had literally disappeared. Imagine when you're at the beach and there's like 60 fucking seagulls and every time you see the flock of seagulls you need to run into them to see if maybe THIS will be the day where you either catch one or get close enough to touch one? Well, I am just that. I am chasing my own brain, for it only to break apart into a million seagulls and fly off into distance. I smile, I giggle - and then I realize that I am left with no seagulls to play with, I certainly didn't close enough to touch one and now I just looked like a damn fool running to them thinking I'd get one for once. I guess if I caught one I'd probably try to eat it because that's what I do with everything else.

I suppose the point I'm trying to make is that I am incapable of writing what I wanted to. It's probably because I'm either too deep in thought or because I'm not deep enough. You know sometimes when you're so deep into whatever you're thinking about you can't put it into words because no matter how you say it, or write it, it just doesn't make sense because they're just jumbled thoughts that are barely lucid in your own mind? Or maybe I am crazy. More than likely the latter, which is nothing surprising.

I should probably smoke a bowl, relax, get in my writing zone to get these thoughts out of my head but i will probably start having paranoia over my itching foot or i will have closed eye hallucinations of form interrogatories. the last thing i want to think about is lawyer work when i'm in la la writer's land.

i'll get back to this blog when i'm either really pissed off or just back to being plain ol' crazy.

Blood Thirsty.

The past week has been challenging. I feel like this is a week-long rite of passage test and if i do not argue with everyone in my path than i am not a fully-fledged Cuban woman.

In the past week I have argued with nearly everyone and now I'm on the path for pure blood. I might as well take up murder as a hobby because clearly arguing with idiots is not solving any problems. Lately I've been arguing about everything from politics (extremism/radicalism and lack of compromise and alternative answers), eating habits/choices (animal rights and tasty dishes), children (no thanks), marriage (no thanks), life (mine's great, thanks) and bullshit (literally).

See, I do not do well with people telling me what to do with my life. I've had more people in the past week telling me to do things in my life, all of which make ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE that I'm just at the point where the next person that tells me what to do I am probably going to put a bullet between their eyes and eat their brains with hot sauce. if currently no such thing as "mad human disease" exists, there will be by the time I am done. Cows will not be the only subjects of foaming madness.

The most ludicrous shit I've heard this week is that i need to get married and have babies because i'm not getting any younger. if someone could tolerate me for life that would be a devil's dream come true. i am like horny Satan; i need my dildo carrying, dirty-talking Saddam as my abusive partner. sometimes i need to get slapped in the face with rubbery red dildos and chained up in a ring of fire. I need to be told to "relax... guy" and be verbally and physically raped. The only difference is that since I'm a dirty Satan I'll tolerate it and eat it up rather than to banish him from Hell. And of all things, if i was pregnant, the baby would probably come out feverishly angry and try to eat me for subjecting it to my madness for 9 months. i wouldn't be surprised if i somehow had a glock 17 in my womb and when the fetus had fully formed hands it decided that suicide would be its best way out than to have to deal with me until i die and then incurr the costs of getting rid of me. i feel sorry for the bastard child i will have one day. that poor kid will need a lot of therapy.

Insatiability.

Chardonnay... The end-all of boundaries, internal filters and the barely measurable iota of sanity.

I'm considering a career in drunk blogging. Fuck sobriety and any ounce of hope I had in owning a Cuban restaurant. What i really need is a world-famous drunk blog. See, what I need to share with the world is that being a sloppy drunk can be a GREAT thing. What I've learned through Big-Bird and a couple of idiots that I know is that drunken honesty is the key to life. It will help you tell a person you love them. It will also help you tell a person that you want to fuck his/her brains out and when you're done you'd like to eat his/her body like a praying mantis would but only to be half-eaten and left alive with rabies. Honesty is infectious. It's necrosis of the mind. It's incurable, untouchable and painstakingly difficult to battle. Don't bother even trying to fight it because you will be left with scars so deep that all the laser treatment in the would could not erase away the memories.

Drips.

I want a caffeine drip. Caffeine keeps me going when I don't want to be - or have to be. Sometimes I wonder how caffeine is legal because I swear nothing can be worse (i say this with love) than a pseudo drug that is available everywhere: markets; gas stations; STARBUCKS; restaurants; movie theatres and probably public bathrooms and when I find that public bathroom I will never leave it. I'll be the creep in the corner stall with my pants down, glued to my seat ordering a venti latte to be delivered under the stall door. i'll keep buckets of quarters around me at all times for tips.

I just wanted to say that caffeine is the greatest thing in the world. I'm not trying to deflect the negatives of caffeine, but rather, support the goodness of the 'evil' world of arabica and robusto. to support my argument - here are a few 'unknown' facts about caffeine:

1) When you're wanting to diet and dieting isn't working, caffeine will curb your cravings for everything.

2) When you're tired, grumpy, hungover or in a comatose, caffeine will energize you without the side effects of a major drug habit. plus, it's not as costly.

3) Did i mention caffeine is cheap drug?

4) When you're stressed, hate life, want to kill everything and everyone around you and think your world is going to shit, caffeine will give you the biggest anxiety attack in the world to prove to you that YOU ARE NOT DYING and to worry/care a Hell of a lot less.

5) It makes conversation a lot easier. You'll become chatty, thus, taking over any awkward silence between people and allowing limitless banter to flow from your lips, drowning out any BS that may come from another person you'd rather not be talking to. and;

6) it's tasty. and i mean - sincerely. it makes everything taste good. it would make dog shit taste good if you dipped it in a latte or something.

For now, that will suffice as my argument to be pro-caffeine. Be prepared for a much more indepth, obnoxiously written post about caffeine. but i do ask that in the meantime, you support your local coffee shop (corporate or otherwise) and indulge in legal crack.

Filters.

I have disappointed myself. My mind has been flaccid and I'm not sure what I need to stimulate it. Clearly not drugs, not alcohol - food is always stimulating but it's just enough to get me by without falling asleep. I've had a couple of good highs being head deep in farmer's market bins with legumes and rice but I haven't had a major mind orgasm in a while and I guess that's why I have not blogged. Or maybe another reason is that I am just lazy and have chosen to occupy my free time by reading books revolving around nutritional anthropology, therefore making me just 1 step up above awesome because it just shows that I take my food seriously. The incessant need to know absolutely everything about food is just as bad as people with OCD washing their hands 100 times a day. I wash my brain so much with information that every once in a while it gets jumbled in my mind as one fatty, grizzled thought and then I sit there blank-faced trying to remember what I just read, with all my dates and names and miscellaneous mental notes i've taken. Sometimes it feels like someone crammed a ton of newspapers in my head, got frustrated with trying to find a certain article and then said FUCK THIS and lit it all on fire. Of course I feel like my head is made out of something flamable (is crazy flamable? is it even an element? can it be put on the table of elements?) and said fire just completely blows my mind off. Well, whatever chemical reaction it is in my brain, the outcome pisses me off. I just know that I know why British food sucks a fat one and although I get the reason, it does not mean that TODAY it should still suck. My theory is that what the English believe is "aint broke" they "aint fixin' it." Well, someone get a loud speaker and park me on Big Ben because I would like to proclaim to all of London that I can fix their shitty food problem with a bit of history and a plan to NOT keep repeating it. It's really that simple. I will fix the world, one shitty dish at a time.