Friday, August 1, 2014
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Sleeping bag fort?
Sleeping bag fort!
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Pardon me while I pull ten days of work out of my butt for someone who suddenly changed their mind.
Falcor isn’t even buying this Fla-Vor-Ice/Malört “cocktail”.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Today is my Dad’s birthday. He would’ve been 74 years young as funk. I’m having dinner right now as I’m writing this in a Cuban restaurant to celebrate his dope Cuban self. I called him my Pop’s. The Mayor. Buddy!!!
The pic above is my Mom, my Dad and I. June 1989. 13 years old and I’m on the brink of graduating Haugan Elementary. To the naked eye that would look like the pic of a boy surrounded by his parents excited to be entering the next phase of his life but to the trained eye of a professional that’s the look of a young man who know’s that Tim Burton’s Batman is less than a week away from being released son! Quick background here, I don’t have a lot of pictures with me today from living back in Chicago. Young people who move away from home. Make sure you take pics of your family with you. If there’s one thing I’m always disappointed by it’s the small amount of pics I have in Los Angeles of my family. Looking at that grammar school pic which isn’t even mine, someone posted it on Facebook a few months back made me realize I have zero pictures of my family from my college graduation. I don’t have a lot of pictures just memories I play back in my head. Here’s two of my favorite memories involving my Buddy.
Memory número uno, the day I drove out to LA I dreaded saying goodbye to my Pops. I took a fuck ton of deep breaths and walked down to his basement of our apartment in Logan Square where he’d always be building things. My dad. Buddy! He could turn the saddest moment into a thing of beauty. He hugged me and said “Well, This is a hug from your mom and I to you as you leave.” My mom was so sad that I was leaving she refused to be there when I left. “Now this is the same hug that I got from my Mom when I left Cuba that I get to give to you.” I don’t know if anyone has ever felt this but that second hug I got from him felt if I could describe it in a word generational. It’s like he opened his arms even wider to gather all the familial hugs he’d gotten or missed from Cuba and passed it on to me. I shook a little bit when he gave me that hug. A pure moment of feeling like a son. My parents chose to leave their families in pursuit of what they wanted. I was doing the same. Full circle. It has happened before and it will happen again. So say we all. Just like Red believes “Hope is a good thing” I do believe a good cry is a good thing. Then I cried.
La otra memoria, I’m the only one in my family to have graduated from college in my family and I have absolutely zero pictures of the event. Actually I have one. I keep it with me everywhere I go. Ingrained in my brain from when I graduated college. All I wanted to do when I got my diploma was to give a karate kick onstage. Just like Dirk Diggler does in Boogie Nights after he wins the award for best new actor. People who saw it from the stands would hopefully get a chuckle from seeing a dude do a karate kick after he gets his diploma but in my mind that inside joke to me was going to be the dopest thing that happened in the UIC Pavilion next to Ricky Steamboat defeating Ric Flair for the NWA title. What ended up happening was I did the kick and it just felt meh. I didn’t do my research y’all! Didn’t take into account robe length, robe width, how high I could actually get my legs, bottom of my dress shoe slickness, in a word, form y’all! But it was all good. I got my diploma so now let’s walk off this stage and all up into this real world that everybody be jibbajabbing about and let it know my name is Ricky. I cross the stage, flip that tassel and immediately look out into the stands to get a look at my family. They’re not in their seats. They’re all jogging down the aisle in the stands but they can only get so far because there’s a guardrail. There’s a lot of clapping. And there’s my dad coming down the steps and leaning over the guardrail with this smile the ultimate smile (goddamn I wish I could Dirk Diggler kick that guardrail right now!) cheeks bouncing cause the tears are flowing. His arms are reaching out for a hug. He’s giving me the thumbs up. I could tell he was going into emotional joy overload. It’s like he was trying on each mode of showing happiness like a t-shirt until he found the right size, “Clapping? Si pero lemme try thumbs up? Si pero ahora lemme try throwing my hands up and down. Okay y ahora yelling Bravo!” Bravo. Ha! My Buddy. Leaning over that goddamn guardrail. I laughed cause I knew “Ricky this is a moment. Everything is right. Nothing is wrong. We’re doing alright.” Rarely in my life had I seen him happier. Happiness to the point where he was able to flip it and I was proud of him. My Pop. The Mayor. Buddy.
Bless The Mayor. Ricky’s dad was one of the greats.
You are doing him proud, my man.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
This is a real thing that happened to a woman that I know. Apologies for the janky privacy edits. I’ve got the misandry shakes.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
“Nekozushi, or Cat Sushi, is exactly what you think it is: a series of felines placed on top of a bed of rice and playfully adorned with props to make them look like different types of sushi.
"Last year a Nekozushi shop opened where you can get your very own Nekozushi postcard or calendar. They even have a buying guide in English.”
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Manses knows me
He just did a bit about all of this shit that we’ve both been dealt and it ruined me in the best way. Open mics are for working shit out, and he sacrificed that valuable time to talk about the traumatic shithole that we’ve been stuck in.
Of course I’m just now crying about something that happened almost two weeks ago. I’m blaming Falcor for it because he’s been so sweet through the whole thing. He can’t defend himself from my judgment!