The Bean Story

As it turns out, the majority of my devoted fans (casual readers) are women. I have a few theories on this...1) I'm an amazingly good looking man, 2) my sexiness abounds, 3) they can't believe that I'm married, or 4) they are waiting for Nelly to grow tired of my antics so they can pounce!

Whatever the reason, I do have a strong reader-base of smart women. Why is this important? Because today I reveal a story of my very early days of marriage. A time of innocence in a the land of milk and honey. I will be asking for some feedback at the end of this story...I need to know if my fans can see my side and agree that I did nothing wrong. This is "The Bean Story."

A long time ago, in a land far far away, Nelly and I lived in harmony: we were Newlyweds. We lived in the area known as "The Triangle" in North Carolina. Life was grand living in the South. All the children called us "ma'am" and "sir," the ladies wore sundresses and big hats, the men were weekend warriors. A hot Salvadorian and Sexy-Mexi (yes, that is me) fit in just fine...though most people thought I was black or in the Marines...and everyone assumed Nelly was a nanny.

Being a newly-wed meant that things were a bit different. Before all of today's running about with tournaments, practices, play-dates, science fairs, dance recitals...we actually had time to sit down for dinner together. I remember my Latin Hotness (Nelly, not me) would call me at work and ask, "Sugar-bear, what would you like for dinner tonight?" Like clockwork she would call me every day. Almost every day I had the same response, "Kitten-whiskers, I think I'm in the mood for chilidogs and tatertots." We must have went through 350 cans of Hormel that year. And who doesn't like tatertots!?! They are little golden-fried pieces of heaven.

Ahhh, life was grand....then one day...I veer off course...and things have never been the same. One particular afternoon while I was slaving away for the firm, my Honey Muffin calls me to inquire about our dinner plans. I still opted for the franks n' tots, but I asked for something different next week. I believe I said something along the lines of, "Apple-dumpling, do you think we can have beans? We haven't had them for so very long. What do you think?"  Being the awesome, hot, newly married wife, Nelly says, "of course!"

Next week's dinner was set! I'd have a big pot of beans and I'd eat like a king! Well like a peasant, but you know what I mean.

I had never cooked beans and neither had Nelly. We had some thoughts around this, but figured we should ask the experts. This was before "google" existed so we had to revert to caveman style of searching. We had to talk to people. So I call my mom and sister and Nelly calls her mom. We have a game plan. We know what to do. We are set.

It's at this point that I need to pause - I need to explain something before we go any further. We all know that Nelly is from El Salvador. We know that I'm of Mexican descent. It stands to reason that we know beans. I grew up having beans with every meal:

• Breakfast: cho-reets-o, tortillas, and beans
• Lunch: fried weenie, tortilla, and beans
• Dinner: steak, potato, salad, and beans

I would go see my grandma and have a "taco de frijoles" and Pepsi for lunch. My whole life I have eaten beans...

Back to the story

After an exhausting day at work, I come home to my lovely wife and beautiful daughter. The aroma of freshly stewed beans fills my wondrous home. I walk into the kitchen and passiontely kiss my wife hello. I bend down and kiss my lil girl. I walk over to the pot of beans, take a look, pause quizzically and say, "those don't look like the beans my mom makes."

It turns out that Salvadorians eat Red Beans ..... and I grew up on Pinto Beans (frijoles). There was no compare/contrast of cooking styles...there was no mention of my mom's beans being superior (as they are not)....there was no criticizing of the cooking methodology....there was no "tone"....there was only sheer and utter amazement that more than one type of bean existed.

This happened many years ago before my many travels. This was before my time in New Orleans, eating Red Beans n Rice. I hadn't yet been to Guadalajara to understand the many varieties of beans. I had not yet had Chilean style barbecue with an assortment of beans. In short, I had never seen a Red Bean in my life.

I now implore the court to render their verdict. To once and for all clear me of all charges. To understand that my question came from absolute befuddlement when coming upon a pot of Red Beans. For the record, my wife makes the best beans and rice, not my mom, not my tia. My wife adds that extra ingredient: Love.

Welcome me back, Cyberspace. I know you missed me. You're welcome!

Artsy Fartsy or The Green Eyed Monster

I can't believe that I'm actually going to write this...against all that is me....I have to admit it: I'm jealous.

Now this isn't your run-of-the-mill type of jealousy. I'm not jealous that my wife watches Twilight everyday, eating bon-bons in a seductive/suggestive manner while rockin a "Team Edward" extra-tight T. I'm not jealous that skinny people can rock extra-tight jeans, Baby Gap T's, and moccasins. I'm not even jealous of people that can show their tats and wear a fully formed mohawk to work.

I am, however, envious of creative people that put it all on the line....the artists that are "all in."

Most of you won't believe this....but you're only really getting somewhere between 30-45% of me. Even in writing, it would be 45% max. Some people think that this blog is an exageration of who I really am. Not true. Others think that "FamousRay" is a caricature of the real me. Also not true. This blog and FamousRay are a watered-down version of the real deal. Scary, I know...but all true.

So much more I'd like to do...but I am holding back. If only you could look into my mind - you'd be blinded by sheer awesomeness. Or at least pee yourself laughing.

Since I began making your lives awesome by allowing glimpses of my thoughts, some things have changed...I see the world differently. I completely dig the creative process. Not just writing....drawing, painting, music, movies, singing, dialog...all of it. Because I'm an awesome person and kick-ass writer, I appreciate other awesome people and their works. Hence, I have become Artsy-Fartsy.

You've all read about RyuKen in the past. I'm jealous of that dude. If you take away the leather jumpsuit, ditch the cape, remove the custom-made full body leotard...if there were no man-splits, no more jump splits, no more back hand springs, if he didn't tickle the gnarly sythe...you are left with an awesome singer. RyuKen sings with a passion that is palpable. To be honest: His soul bears witness. This guy is all in.

I went to the Katy Perry concert last week - it was greatness. We all know that she is talented and her songs are hella-coo. I want to talk about her opening act: Robyn. This chick was in-it-to-win-it. Her music wasn't really my bag. It was some sort of intergalactic, space-age rock. But, I did appreciate her music and her performance. I was in awe of this girl that was on stage in front of thousands and dancing like she was in her living room. It was easy to tell that the performance wasn't for the audience. I don't mean this in a bad way. I mean that she was so wrapped up in her music that it could have been 5 people sitting there or five thousand. She was so comfortable in her own skin. I was jealous.

The PARTY ROCK ANTHEM! The number one song and going strong. This song just makes me happy; it brings me joy. When I saw the video...I almost fell down. I think that video is absolute genius. When I see something creative and I think to myself "maaaaan...I never could have thought of that!," it really takes me back. Puts me on my heels. Makes me question my own awesomeness. I dig that video.

Sure I'd like to do more...take some risks. Some include a luchador mask, a camera, and a bull. Others include all the public restrooms in the immediate area. Another has a singlet and booty-pop on the list. I am hoping that I can break these chains of normalcy and just be me - I'd rather be Artsy-Fartsy than a Fuddy-Duddy any day of the week.

I love you too Cyberspace.

You're welcome.

The Day the Sexy Died

Not sure if my sexy is dead; but it's in a coma at the very least. A fat/food induced coma. Today I am tipping the scales at 204 lbs.

I would love to blame this all on my broken back. I'd like to suggest that the 3 rounds of epidurals and the final surgery that severed my  back muscles was all to blame. Truth is I love food. My steady diet of stuff-crust pizza and chili-cheese dogs has finally done me in. And I can't discount the tots - they are little golden-fried pieces of heaven.

Now I sit as a blob. Not just any blob; but a blob that acts as a monument to a once great and sexy man. I know what some of you are thinking...that a few extra pounds won't make a difference. I am here to assure you that they do. I can't get into my skinny jeans. Not even when I do the trick. The closest I'll get to showing off a six pack at the pool is if the HOA will allow brew-doggies passed the gate. I have to go commando so that my shorts will fit...well, I would go commando in any case. But still, this layer of fat and apathy has softened my once rugged features. I'm no longer ruggedly handsome; not even classically handsome. I am now "that cute husky guy."

You men know what I'm talking about. Ladies, let me help you out with this. All men (starts around the 10th grade) will look at a heavier-set girl and make comments like these:

• She's cute, but she'd be HOT if she dropped 15 lbs
• Ya know, the cute husky girl?
• She has a really pretty face
• She's really cool

Now I'm that girl...er...guy. I'm the cute husky cool guy with a pretty face that would be HOT if I dropped 30 lbs. 

I'm so used to be the sexiest man in the room that I'm a little distraught. I don't know if I should just accept this and take advantage of any Papa John's latest deals. Should I just have a brownie sundae with extra brownie...and extra sundae?

I thought of doing a video series of me struggling to lose weight. I called MTV and was told that I was not enough of an ass-clown to get a series...they also muttered something along the lines of "we want someone that can't spell contract negotiation"...

I then thought of doing a self-produced, self-starring, self-recorded, self-edited video diary - but we all know I'm too humble for something like that.

So, this is what I plan to do. I will share my sexy greatness with you all! This is cyberspace! I can be anyone! I'm still 3 times as great as anyone else you know in real life! So of course you will keep reading and sharing this blog. What am I crazy!?! To think some baby weight could keep me from being awesome!? That's crazy talk!

I know that I need to get my food under control. I know that I need to exercise. Well, all I can do is walk...doc says I can't do ANYTHING until the muscle is completely healed. This is bad news - I have a ShakeWeight just sitting here...it's the big gray one, cuz I'm a man. Now it just lies in the corner; unshaken. What am I  supposed to do for dynamic-inertia?!?? Not being able to exercise was an excuse for my chocolate dipped strawberry waffle ball breakfasts for a few weeks. But, NO MORE!

Veggies, lean meats, complex carbs, and me shirtless in biker shorts doing laps around the neighborhood. I may get arrested for indecent exposure. I'm hoping that my fans will bail me out.

To the haters: Suck It! 

To my millions of fans: I love you like I love chocolate cake!

To cyberspace: You're Welcome!

If I Could be Anyone for a Day

This was not a college paper and I'm not sure why. You'd think that our Institutions of Higher Learning would stress not only the sciences but the art of being awesome.

If it were a writing assignment, I think my paper would go something like this....

For Just a Day

by

Famous Ray

The annals of time remember only the greatest of men and women. Studying their history can give us a glimpse of former glory and inspire us to be better people. While analyzing this project, a few characters came to mind:

• Abraham Lincoln
• Albert Einstein
• Winston Churchill

These were leaders of their time. They were literally writing history with every step taken. They will forever be etched in history and steeped in greatness that will overshadow lesser men. Their absolute resolve and monumental tasks would have crushed others under the very weight of their decisions. For those very reasons, I never considered being any one of them for a day.

For this assignment, I filtered out many candidates and came to three very strong possibilities:

• Bruce Lee
• Michael Jackson
• Stan Lee

You see, I don’t want to be steeped in greatness. I want to be clothed in AWESOMENESS.

Bruce Lee – He single handedly (or footedly) revolutionized the world! Before him, there was no Black Belt Theater. There was no understanding of the Eastern world. The Last Dragon would never have been filmed. Every boy wanted to grow up to be him. He had a cool accent and even cooler hair. What man wouldn’t want to be him for a single day?

Michael Jackson – are you kidding me!? Without Michael, the Kinect wouldn't have the best game ever! He is the greatest showman of all time; a musical genius. He could hit moves with such precision and control that people today are still copying his choreography. Why wouldn’t  I want to play to sold-out arenas and inspire generations?

Stan Lee - who doesn't know this man? Really...you don't?!? He is only the creator of some of the world's greatest heroes: Spider-Man, The Avengers, Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, Fantastic Four, Hulk. He created a complete UNIVERSE. In his mind! Talk about creative writing.

If I could be anyone for a day it would be Stan Lee. I'm sure people are wondering why I wouldn't want to be a great fighter or a dancer. I already am. But Stan Lee has taught us all about being a hero. That we sometimes don't get to pick our battles. Sometimes the odds are stacked against us. There will be times when we get knocked down. He also taught us how to rock spandex and look good - I think the first male skinny jeans were modeled after the Fantastic Four uniform.

To give you the gravity of what Stan Lee has created, let us look at some of our recent history:

1. Hugh Jackman is the sexiest man alive - because he's Wolverine
2. Robert Downey, Jr is once again recognized as a great actor - because he's Iron Man
3. Toby Macguire will never again be mistaken for Frodo Baggins - because he's Spiderman
4. Scarlett Johansson rocked a leather cat suit - because she's Black Widow
5. Halle Berry went topless in multiple movies - because she didn't get enough lines as Storm in the X-Men movies

The list of why Stan Lee rocks goes on and on. The biggest reason that I'd want to be Stan Lee is his creative genius. Comic books are a lost art. No one is making new heroes because all the cool ones are already out there. Stan Lee wasn't confined to what was real in this world. He created a universe where a 17 year-old kid raised by his elderly aunt could overcome impossible odds. In Stan Lee's world, might wasn't used for power - it was used for justice. In the Marvel Universe all women are scantily clad and unreasonably nice.

Stan Lee has saved a lot of childhoods. He also instilled a great truth in little boys: we should protect everyone around us.


#########################

Grade for this paper: C-
Notes: Mr. FamousRay, your prose were weak and grammar was absent. You did not end with a complete thought. There is literally no conclusion to this paper. You have a flawed view of history and pop-culture. I suggest you take some time and actually research before writing anything else. Don't think that I didn't notice your juvenille attempt at crude humor by using "annals" and "anal-yze" in your first paragraph. You switched from 1st to 3rd person views without cause. You asked questions that were never answered. If not for the saving grace of letting me know that Halle Berry has nude scenes, you would have failed this assignment...and yes, I know you are saying "ass-ignment" in your mind. You are receiving  a passing grade so that I will no longer be made to read your ridiculousness.

Trade Secrets

I'm disclosing sensitive information today. This may label me as a "Benedict Arnold" or a "miscreant" or a plain "fink." Today we are discussing the Top 10. I've heard of this mythical list during my travels around the world - whispers in seedy bars; knowing looks traded across dark rooms; drunk ramblings while visiting the jiggly room. We are talking about the list of Top 10 Women that men keep in their heads.

I don't have such list so I can't write about this from a first-hand account. I'll have to do my best to report my findings. The first of which is that EVERY MAN (besides me) HAS A TOP 10 LIST.

What is this list exactly, you ask? From what I gather, it's an eclectic collection of celebrity females. This is finding number 2 (hehehe "number 2"), THE LIST CANNOT CONSIST OF ANY ONE YOU KNOW PERSONALLY. This is extended to friends of friends, minor/local celebrities, cousins - none of them can make the TOP 10.

Here is an example of a TOP 10. Keep in mind that this is not my list. This is a make-believe list being used for instructional purposes only. This list is NOT in any order:

1. Cheryl Burke
2. Tyra Banks
3. Ema Watson
4. Kim Kardashian
5. Constance Marie
6. Taylor Swift
7. Ashley Greene
8. Meagan Good
9. Natalie Portman
10. Salma Hayek

Since this is not my list and I only have eyes for Nelly, I cannot tell you why anyone would find those ladies attractive. But with my keen eye I can see the differences. This is finding number 3: THE TOP 10 SHOULD BE A MIX WITH NO SEEN PATTERN. In the above list we see a lot of different features - tall, short, curvy, slender, dark, light, brown, blonde, brunette. Besides that they are all women, nothing is the same. From what I have heard, this is the beauty of the list.

Now, let's take this list for example:

1. Nelly
2. Eva Longoria
3. Shakira
4. Rosario Dawson
5. Vida Guerra
6. Jennifer Lopez

All latina. Can't be a true Top 10 - this is more of a Hot Latin Ladies list. How can I tell? Because my hot wife is number 1!

Some other interesting finds reveal that women also have a list. They crafty at hiding the existence of their list. A common man will say things like "she's hot" or "jinkies! she's hot" or "did you see her? She's hot." Women, on the other hand, will disguise their attraction with a mix of words. Here are somethings that you may hear a woman say: Classically Handsome, Ruggedly Handsome, Exotic,  Good-looking, Distinguished, Athletic, Strong, Boy-Next-Door, Virile, Vigorous...

Women are very protective of their lists - just look at Team Edward vs Team Jacob. A woman's list is even more varied than most mens. Let's take this example:

1. Famous Ray
2. Zac Efron
3. The Rock
4. Robert Pattinson
5. Joey Mcintyre

I don't know how all these men could all be on a list. I only know that it's a SEXY MAN list because I'm on it. 

The last, and most important, finding is NEVER DISCLOSE YOUR LIST TO YOUR MATE. Under NO circumstance should you feel compelled to tell your mate the degree of hotness of another person. Women will bait you, "She's hot huh?" or "Do you think she's pretty? I think she's pretty." Women are masters of manipulation and should never be trusted. Everything is a test. Everything.Is.A.Test.

This Public Service Announcement has been made possible by my adoring fans and multitude of haters.

YOU ARE WELCOME CYBERSPACE!

Whatchu Call Me!!?!!?

Ah, the sun is back! Flowers are blooming....Ladies clothes are getting smaller....I'm turning brown...It's SPRING BLING! What an awesome time to be in the Great State of Texas! So how the crap did I end up back in the Pelican State???

I recently returned from Lafayette, LA. As you know from reading posts past, LA is a little different and I always come back with a story. While I was driving around this thriving metropolis built on craw-fish tails and bread pudding, I made an odd observation...I was going to post on FB for the world to enjoy...it was going to read: Only in Louisiana would you see a Ruth's Chris and Sonic share a parking lot. 

As I pondered my unparalleled wit it hit me. Man, I'm boojee! Besides PLT, no one is even gonna know what I'm talking about!

You won't find the word "boojee" in the Oxford Dictionary, but who the crap are they? They think they know a butt-load about words, but they don't. So here is the Urban Dictionary definition:

Boojee
adj. Derived from the french word Bourgeois, Boojee refers to a *black person who acts stuck up; acts like they are to good for everyone else *Yes, I know I'm yellow right now, but same-same...

As you can imagine, this surprised me. I did what I always do when I have an epiphany - I called Nelly. Still in awe, I hit her with this new found truth. She replied with the beat-box: psshh, I could have told you that!

Nelly is the devil.

I'm not sure when I changed. I don't think it was a light-switch thing. It had to be a process. I'm pretty sure it started when we moved to Texas. When I was an Average Joe, I could go to Micky Deez or Jack in the Crack for lunch and be happy. I enjoyed Western Bacon Burgers and Double-Doubles when the desire arose. All that changed on my first day at work here in the Lone Star state. Man, these dudes can eat!

The guys from work went out to lunch EVERY DAY. I'm not talking about burger and fries,  I'm taking about sit-down, water-up-front, salad,  main dish, maybe-dessert type of meals. I can remember going to lunch with Nelly when she recommended Subway. I thought she had lost her mind. I looked her up-n-down then sideways and then said, "I want to be served!"

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....that IS boojee! But that was the start of my downward spiral. Now I rock a mini-fauxhawk, wear extra-tight skinny jeans, throw on Baby GAP t-shirts and minimize manual labor every chance I get. Check this out, I have white guys mowing my lawn. INSANE! I know! It's a good thing my dad doesn't read this blog. He would have a crap-attack if he knew I was not in-charge of my own lawn care.

To add to that nonsense, we have a crazy, old white lady cleaning our house. We have a maid service! My Salvadorian wife and I pay someone to come clean.

I've never painted a wall in this house. Five rooms here have been painted, one of them twice, and I never shook a can, popped a lid, or grabbed a roller.

I'm a Mexican that doesn't mow lawns or paint.

I drive a Lexus. Of course I look gorgeous in it. But, I looked just as delicious when I rocked my sweet-ass Toyota Matrix XR. To date, that Matrix was the best car I have ever owned. It just wasn't boojee enough for me. It didn't have "nalgas." So I sold-out and upgraded.

My favorite artist is Avril Lavigne. Scratch that...it doesn't really count 'cause no matter where I live or what I do, she so EFFEN rocks!

So, my secret is out. I'm soft. No, we're not talking about my goods. We're talking about my distaste for perspiration due to work.

Truth be told, I'm looking for someone that can type this blog while I sit back can spew greatness. And awesomeness.

There you have it, cyberspace. You're welcome.

Why I Left Facebook

I am a stat-whore. There...I said it. Every time I post awesomeness for all of cyberspace to digest, I run to www.statcounter.com and begin the painstaking process of watching how many of my devoted readers actually read my greatness. I've noticed that my numbers go up when the Greatest-Facebook-Fan-Page-Ever-Made is updated showing my blog link.

But the  numbers really don't shoot up like they should. Then I wonder what kind of people are NOT reading my literary hotness (not to be confused with my literal hotness). I blame my true-fans for not getting word out. I can only be so awesome alone. Let's face it - even Muhammad Ali had a team.

I left social networking as part of an experiment. This post will be done without the aid of Facebook - being the stat-whore that I am, I will be watching the numbers.

I am hoping my real fans will spread the word that the Shogun is back on the scene! And the Shogun is the master!

So, I learned a few things while I've been unplugged. The WHOLE world just kept going on. I was starved for  pop culture news.  I had to get all my information from CNN, FOX News, Good Morning America, NPR, and other network controlled media. Even worse than that, it took a whole 2 days for any one to notice that I was gone. The first person to reach out to me was Corki Shitz; she was trying to post something mean on my wall. The only other two people to notice were Xena Boobage and Nikki Night. Xena and Nikki are roommates and 2 of the best people that I know. Xena Boobage actually played a big role in my recovery. She's my personal nursemaid. They were both very distraught without having instant access to me - I'm sure everyone feels this way, but they were able to express it. It makes me sad that the world is being denied my awesomeness and attractiveness.

Disconnecting from cyberspace had a few unforeseen side effects. I lost touch with the world as things went along without me. Here are some events that occurred during my absence:

1. The Rock has returned to the WWE. How the crap did the most ELECTRIFYING man in entertainment come back to the ring and I was unaware?!?!
2. Apple released the iPad2. Really? Didn't the original debut less than a year ago?
3. Apparently a war broke out because gas is $19.99 a gallon

As all this real news was happening (and I was missing), I was stuck watching GMA and gaining non-vital information such as:

1. Japan was rocked with the largest earthquake ever registered
2. Japan is then hit by a tsunami that further caused structural damage to their nuclear reactors and a meltdown is threatening the region
3. Gadhafi is refusing to step down and casualties are growing daily. The world is waiting to see how the U.S. reacts.

Without Facebook, I have no idea what Wonder Woman's new costume looks like. I don't know anything about Will and Kate's wedding. I haven't read about anyone's baby-mama-drama. I haven't seen any thought-provoking personal opinions. No updates on workouts and/or diets. No prayer requests. No pictures of kids birthday parties or team events. Nothing on Brittney, Taylor, or Avril.

Some good has come of this. I have spoken/texted with friends more than ever. I speak with Xena Boobage, Nikki Night, Zergio, and Bobbert Fernandez on a daily basis. In a day when Social Networking is king, it's nice to know that I can reach out and talk to my buddies. 

Cyberspace, you have been missed. And I know you missed me. I'm back. You're welcome.

Holy Paper Mache, Batman!

Ah, the piñata. What a wondrous tool of festiveness! Little is known about the origin of this formed paper of joy, so I will share what I have pieced together from meticulously studying the annals of time:

• Vikings invented the piñata
• They used it when they conquered China
• The Chinese overcame the Vikings, but also start using the piñata
• China invaded Greece, but were thwarted by Alexander the Great
• The Macedonian Ass Kicker collects a Chinese stash of piñatas
• Alexander takes the piñata to India on his failed campaign
• India uses the piñata while invading Spain
• Spain holds them off, but loves the piñata
• Conquistadors use the piñata while riding horses and capturing Aztecs

And that brings us to present day. Because of all that history, we can understand why every White, Asian, Black, Indian, and Mexican kid grows up with piñatas at their birthday parties. It is the game that transcends all races.

For anyone that has never seen a piñata, it is a paper mache goody-bag that comes in shapes of drums, stars, superheroes, cartoon characters, animals, just about anything you can think of. This giant goody-bag is filled with candy then a rope is attached. The piñata is hung from anything that can be found - tree, ladder, banister, basketball hoop, etc. The fun begins when a bat and blindfold are added! Children are blind-folded like hostages then spun around until wobbly and vomiting is induced. They are then handed a bat while onlookers scream instructions: LEFT! RIGHT! LOWER! HIGHER! SWING! SWING! BEHIND YOU! SWING!

It is awesome fun.

My earliest birthday party memories are filled with piñatas. Like a gladiator that was forced to fight for his life, I was sent to be shamefully made fun of while drunken uncles and aunts yelled instructions at me in spanish. Great times. This is the Mexican right of passage where we show the world our battle instincts. The candy is used as bait. Back in my day, when the piñata broke and candy crashed to the floor, a mad rush of children dove onto the heap to collect their prize. Diving on to blacktop is dangerous enough, but when you have others diving at you head first and a kid swinging a bat wildly....well, that's where you separate the men from the boys.

Things have changed since then. I think kids are too soft nowadays. I remember drinking water from the hose when I was outside playing. Now we have little Johnny carrying around his bottle of EVIAN. A few weeks back, I took the kids to a party where a piñata was on display. I was ready for a rowdy bunch of kids to see who was king of the mountain! That did not happen. Instead, I saw these little kids get 1 swing each. When the piñata finally broke, the kids had to wait while the candy was collected and handed out. What Kind of Crap was this!?!?

During this fiasco, I was talking to one of the moms that also brought children to this so-called party. She then says "I'm surprised they don't have a sting piñata." I have no idea what she is talking about so I press her, "I have no idea what you are talking about." She goes on to explain that there are new piñatas where you don't swing a bat violently and the kids aren't blindfolded. Apparently in this sick and twisted take on America's past time, kids are given a single chance to go and pull a string from the bottom of the piñata. If it is the right one, it opens and candy falls. I assume that this has to be a White-People invention.

I call my foremost authority on all things Caucasian: Na'shell Oliveria. I ask Na'shell if she has heard of this ridiculousness that is parading around and pretending to be a piñata. I also asked if this was something that White People dreamed up to keep their kids soft...er...I mean "safe." In my mind, I am thinking that they have changed this and are now selling it to make themselves rich. Just how they changed tortillas to "wraps" and charge a premium.

I am flabbergasted as she explains that this was actually not a WP thing. Turns out all parents (White, Mexican, Asian, Indian, and Black) all want their kids to be safe. You can go the swapmeet/fleamarket and pick these up right next to the battle ready piñatas.

As I look back on my awesomeness, I am saddened to see that our days are winding down. Kids can't drink from the hose. Kids can't play outside till the lights come one. Kids can't be blindfolded then made dizzy and forced to swing like Hank Aaron while others laugh at them. Times are changing. In an effort to keep my past alive, we got the Champ a piñata for his birthday. I real piñata. It is over 4 feet tall and will take a Louisville slugger to crack. On that day, only the strong will survive.

The Completely True Made-Up Story of How I Broke My Back

Ok readers, we need to clear a few things up. As many of you are aware,  I am on the road to recovery after suffering a broken back. When news hit that I was down, rumors abounded; mostly because my sexiness was in danger. Others were just haters and glad that I was out of the running for People's "Sexiest Man Alive". As if....

Today I am setting the record straight! Not only will I put these rumors to rest, I will finally reveal how I was left broken and shattered. Of all the possibilities that can break a man's back, only a few were spread about my greatness:

1. I broke myself during a dance battle
2. Nelly broke me during a vigorous sexual encounter
3. During a gymnastic display, I zigged when I should of zagged

I will address these in order.

STEP UP: I completely understand how dancing was top of the list. I would rank the believability of this rumor at 98%. Why so high? Because everyone that knows me knows that I rarely turn down a battle. With a personal soundtrack playing in my head, I AM ALWAYS READY TO GO. Here is how the story goes: I was at the club with my crew breakin fools off and talkin about their mamas'. While in a drunken stupor, I was challenged to a solo dance-off. Jack G. Gargoylewitz IX walked up to me with his crew (The Holy Rollies) and said something to the effect of  "I got sum'in real fo yo azz n deez feet!" Without a word, I slapped him, and made my way to the center of the dance floor. From there, I was a combination of David and Elgin from You Got Served - I looked more like Marques Houston, but the part were he was dancing in the rain without a shirt. Of course, Jack G. Gargoylewitz IX was a combination of Wade and Max - which is fitting because he does his hair like Wade. So there we were. All eyes on us. Two superhuman-dance-icons locked in an epic battle of epic proportions that was purely epic. The story continues, we were going move for move, lock for lock, pop for pop, tut for tat. As I was ready to put him down for the count, I went for the killer kombo: Elbow Air Flare-Munchmill-Gorillas. On my 3rd flare my elbow slipped into a spilled sour-apple-martini. I twisted and flailed around landing in a crumbled heap. In slow motion, I heard Jack announced as the winner. In a fashion that is all too much Jack G. Gargoylewitz IX, he walked up and kicked me the back (breaking it) then whispering, "You got served, biznitch."

The true story is that Jack did beat me in a RAZOR-THIN battle that left us both bruised but not broken. He has since been practicing daily - should we meet other in battle again.

Kama Sutra. I would put the believability up around 99% - who isn't up for new and exciting moves that require stamina and the ability to be bendy like liquorish?  Let us rattle off a few possibilities:

• The Brazilian Cowboy - you have to love those Brazilians; they are true innovators. Any move that has a Cowboy and a Brazilian has to be tried at least once. 
• The English Bagel - this is a cleverly disguised "French Butler," but since no one really likes the french since dubya dubya 2, the British put their own twist on the move. They substituted bangers-n-mash for the honey and strawberries....then added tongs. This is complicated poetry.
• The Lemon Wedge - really nothing more than a modified Orange Bang that uses the left foot as a rudder.

Of course we are married and do what married people do. None of these moves/positions can break a back - the swing takes all the pressure off the spine.

Gymkata A less known rumor has to do with a mix of music and gymnastics - this is all about performance. As this story goes, I was working with RyuKen on some new chords. RyuKen just doesn't play the guitar and sing; he is living, breathing entertainment. So he has me in a power-stance rocking out. From there, I'm supposed to do a back handspring, back tuck, land in "man splits" then pop up and continue with my song. I hit the back handspring and going into my back tuck when the cord from my amp gets wrapped around my legs. I land off-kilter and go crashing into the drum set and take a Hi-Hat to the center of my spine, severing my nerves and leaving me paralyzed. Believability at 4%

The truth is that RyuKen has moved on to greater things and won't give me the time of day. He is in league with Jack G Gargoylewitz IX

Now for the real story:

I was out enjoying some cold, frosty beverages. I was taking a night off from crime-fighting. I had just finished up 72 straight hours of rounding up super criminals and felt like a brew doggie was well deserved. As I'm relaxing, in walks a masked luchador and starts hassling the bar patrons. He is a short, powerfully built man - as wide as he is tall. He is shirtless, completely waxed and oiled up - this is a sure sign of aggression from a luchador. His name is "El Lobo Fuerte", it was stitched across his tights. As a side-note,  I believe that means "The Fierce Lion" in some dead language. He comes over and starts rattling something off to me in spanish. I explain that I'm from SoCal and don't speak a word of "espanol". This sends El Lobo into a rage! A great battle ensues. We are locked in mortal combat. I am putting these soup-bones on him. He is dazed and in an act of desperation, he grabs me. El Lobo is freakishly strong for being only 5'5. He lifts me overhead and crashes my back down over his knee. He then puts me into a suplex and I fly into a table, back first. He is not done and does a flying elbow to my lower back. I'm down but not out. Feeling enraged, I hulk up and grab El Lobo. I fling him into the wall face first. As he falls, I drop a big leg across his chest and he's out!

I leave the bar and head outside for some air. There I'm confronted by a Kung-Fu master that has been hunting me for years. He is upset that I have been teaching non-Asians the secrets of martial arts. He is here to make sure that I never teach again. He jumps into a Tiger stance - this is a  powerful style...but my Kung Fu is strong. I go with Eastern Dragon style. The battle lasts less than a minute but is packed full of combinations and strikes that would blind most men. After missing a wing strike, I was kicked in the center of my weakened back with a flying side kick. The strike was blazing! I am unsure if I can move. With my superhuman strength, I summon all of my awesomeness and stand back up. In a flash I use the secret of Miagi-Do Family Karate and knock out my foe.

Bruised and weakened, I start out for a long walk home. Half way there, on a long country road, I see a cow falling from the sky and it lands in front of me. It was gross. As I look out into the horizon I see what I think is a massive bull. This bull is the size of a bus - not a full yellow bus, but a VW bus from the 70's. I see that this bull is angry - like an old man trying to send soup back to the kitchen. As he is charging towards me, I notice that something is not quite right. He seems to be running on his hind legs. Then it hits me! THIS IS NO BULL! IT IS A MINOTAUR! I know that I'm in for a gladiator-style fight. The winner will be the one left alive. He lowers his head and rushes me. I take him by the horns and stand firm. He throws a left hook to my body and I go flying into a tree. He rushes again and this time connects - I am put through the tree. My back was a battering ram and the tree the Gates of Camelot. I can barely breath and am lying against a huge tree. I know that the end is near. It must have been a rush of adrenalin that allowed me to move. As the minotaur lowers his head for the final blow, I fling myself out of the way. A single horn is stuck in the tree that was propping me up. As he struggles to break free, he shatters the stuck horn. He is reeling in pain and I have to act fast. I use all the supernatural strength that I have left and pull the the horn lose. The minotaur is up again and charging. I stand my ground and lunge at the beast, plunging his horn deep into his chest. He falls into heap and I collapse. I can no longer move. The 3 battles have taken their toll - my back is broken.

So that's my story. This is completely how I remember it. I mean, really...who would believe that I was walking around Nashville and feeling achy? Then, after arriving home, while lying in bed I sneezed and my body was set on fire - herniating two disks and causing nerve compression...

Now, like Bruce Wayne and Bruce Lee before him, I am on the road to recovery. They both emerged better versions of themselves. As hard as it is to believe, I will be even better than I was - I know...crazy huh.

Lucky Lady or How Nelly Caught Me

I was thinking the other day, "How did Nelly get so lucky, and not only catch me, but keep me?" Was it just pure hotness? Did she have some kind of voodoo spell over me? Was it the hotness and the spell working together? As I pondered this, I began thinking back on childhood crushes. Now, these aren't crushes on real people, but crushes I had when I was a little tyke (much like my champ is today). I could only think of 3:

• Elvira
• Wonder Woman
• Mary Ann

Some of you that know me may be thinking that I omitted Thelma from Goodtimes - she wasn't a childhood crush; that crush started in the 90's and ended the day I met Nelly.

Going back to my childhood, we see some simple, but drastic similarities among the 3 ladies fore-mentioned. If we were to stand them all next to each other, in a line, very very close to each other, we see that they have 2 really BIG features in common. The more we stare at them, the more apparent they become. That's right! They are all brunette with brown eyes!

Nelly also has brown hair and the most beautiful brown eyes I have ever seen. As a side note, baby-girl's eyes are a very close second. Was it all really that simple? Of course I like brown hair and brown eyes, but was my animalistic attraction only based on those features? When I looked closer, I saw the resemblance to my childhood crushes was much deeper.

Mary Ann - She is sweet, old-fashioned, friendly, the-girl-next-door; and despite all these differences, she still reminds me of Nelly. It may be because she's short. I'm just playing :)  My Nelly is all of those things and so much more. Nelly is very compassionate and is a friend to everyone. Remember how Mary Ann was always there for Gilligan? That's how Nelly's friendships are - she is there for everyone. And she's short.

Wonder Woman - She is an Amazon Warrior! If you were to challenge her to a duel, she would win and possibly talk about your mama as she did so. This is the Nelly that I love! The fiery beast that will cut someone given the chance. This isn't a contrast to Mary Ann - this is a defense mechanism. Wonder Woman protected the innocent, Nelly protects her herd. They also have a great sense of style - Nelly has an assortment of clothes that cause mere mortals to stop and stare. Some of you may be saying, "HEY! Wonder Woman doesn't have brown eyes!" To that I say, "She can stop bullets...and did you see her costume?"

Elvira - She may be the one that reminds me of Nelly the most. When I was younger, I didn't know why Elvira captured my attention so much - I know now. It's her big, bubbly, bodacious personality and her awesome sense of humor. Nelly is ridiculously funny and has great comedic timing (almost as good as me). One of my buddies put it best, "You and Nelly are perfectly crazy for each other." He didn't mean that we were crazy in love for one another; he meant that our varying degrees of craziness where in perfect sync for us to be the ultimate compliment to each other - think of yin and yang or peanut-butter and jelly. Perfect balance. Elvira is easily one of the funniest people on the planet. Very quick-witted and she owns an awesome couch. I can hear some more complaints, "HEY! Elvira doesn't have brown eyes!"  To you haters, I say, "Elvira has eyes???"

Nelly is the combination of all my childhood crushes rolled into one sexy person. She is short, wears small, tight clothes, and has Double-D's (Mary Ann, Wonder Woman, and Elvira respectively). And she is a brunette with beautiful honey-golden eyes. I didn't stand a chance. It's like she's all sparkly like Edward and I'm Bella - everything about her draws me in. But I'm really Jacob, not really, but yes I am. It's no wonder that she caught me and made herself the luckiest woman in this world.

To my beautiful wife, I salute you! I salute your perfect you-ness that I can't get enough of!