I never did get to go on that Art walk. I mean I did, I just zipped right through it though, didn't go into any galleries or anything. Que lástima. But at least the dinner was like a work of Art in my mouth. Picadillo, I think it’s called, or as Vida put it, Cuban Hamburger Helper. Ground beef with cumin, garlic, raisins and tomato sauce, served with white rice and yucca. It was good.
I almost let this food go cold in front of me though, just to post a few, measly sentences for resolution’s sake. It was the first time I'd really used that BlogPressLite app on my iPhone, and I got a little lost in it. I even got a "who are you texting?" from the ol' man, and he never asks me that. Just the same, I think we are all quite used to zoning out in front of eachother, I myself missed about three good punch lines last night alone.
When I finally came to though, Michelle was quick to bust out with, "Why don't you blog about real stuff, enh? I mean like, what we really do." By this my little Puerto Rican mama meant, why don't I write what we really do when we all get together? Tell it like it is, if you will. Why don't I just expose our naked ass selves, pulverize those little calaveras in our closets and sprinkle the dust all over the blogosphere?
My only response was that if she read through each blog, which I wouldn't wish upon anyone, she'd see that I do. But shit, I'm about as honest on my blog as I am in, um, real life, is that what we are calling it? But blogs, they allow for a certain amount of calculated coyness that you can only hope happens accidentally in, well, real life. I mean if my friends want to read it, the real stuff, I'll write it. I'll just call my lawyer real quick and have her draw up the paperwork. But just between you (that being anybody) and me, these people, from last night, Vida, Michelle, Walks with Moon, Angelina, Monica, Tyson and my little Babetron, they all get themselves into some crazy, blog worthy shit and I'd be honored to have the opportunity to smear it all over the internet. Maybe I will Michelle, maybe I will.