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.


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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!

Kittens and Cougars, Oh My!

Ah....Thanksgiving is here! This is one of my favorite holidays of the year. This is when Cowboys and Aliens can set aside petty differences and break bread mano a mano (I believe that is Swedish for "cheek to cheek"). I have so many things that I am grateful for, that I decided to write a list. Let's see how many of my thoughts make your list.

I am thankful for:

1. Serving a forgiving and a loving God
2. My smokin hot wife
3. Cheech, Baby-girl, and The Boy
4. My ridiculously good looks
5. My dance battle skills
6. My writing skills
7. My extremely good taste in clothes
8. The internets/interwebs and The Google
9. Sugarpop Music
10. Pirates
11. My friends
12. Having a G.O.B. (That's how we say J.O.B. in the ghetto)
13. Being recognized as Cougar-Bait Kitten Dreams
14. Being of sound mind

I'm sure that some of you will argue with #14; but hey, you're reading this aren't you.....

Point number 13....it kinda hurts...but I have crossed over from Cougar-Bait to Kitten Dreams. This is the year that everything changed. I'm now 35, and of course older women are attracted to me, but I can longer be labeled as "cougar bait."  That esteemed title now belongs to much younger men (teenagers) like Isak Adamson and The Fresh Prinze.

Before going any further - Cougars are older ladies that like young dudes; kittens are 20-somethings that like older dudes.

As some of you know, I was running a social experiment that I fiendishly dubbed "Project Fauxhawk."  I won't go into the details of said experiment, but I did get some surprising results. Only 2 people ever commented on my hairstyle but so many more were staring. Looking as good as I do, this is a normal day occurrence. The difference was that the kittens were not only staring at me like I was fine ham sandwich, they were no longer pretending not to look when I noticed. They were blatant in their oogling of my goods. I was ready to credit "project fauxhawk" for this change when something surprising happened. As part of corporate restructuring (I got a new G.O.B.) I had to end the experiment and go back to a more "professional" look. I naturally assumed that things would go back as they were - with men cursing me and women undressing me while I was unaware. Things did change...more kittens are making it a point to let me know that I'm hotness.

This usually happens during lunch. If I order a burrito, I get some extra guacamole free of charge. If I get a side of tots, they are magically upgraded and topped with chili and cheese. This last week I ordered a 2-scoop sundae and the girl behind the counter stuffed about a gallon of Mint n' Chip into my little cup.

Being a Kitten Dream is actually better than being Cougar Bait. The older ladies still gawk and make off-hand remarks as I stroll by, and that's awesome, but they are set in their ways and have no need to try to make me happy. The Kittens, by contrast, are still getting themselves established. This means I get free food a lot. The Kittens are also aware that when I'm with my wife or kids that they should not look my way. The cougars take a more "museum" approach and look but don't touch. This, of course, gets Nelly ready to cut someone - meaning me. Is it my fault that the older ladies make it obvious that I'm hot?!

Ultimately, I am thankful that I still look as good as ever and am generally the most attractive man in the room. Sexy isn't easy - but I wouldn't want it any other way.


To all my friends in Cyberspace, I wish you well this Thanksgiving. Eat. Drink.Read. Be Merry!

Ooooooh....Reeeaaally?

I know the most finicky man on the planet. He is a Persnickety Little Texan (PLT). Very high-brow kind of guy and is fond of peacocking. He hasn't had an idea or opinion that he hasn't loved. I ran into PLT last week during lunch; he was wearing a hand-tailored, very fitted, cream colored suit with a pumpkin orange Forzieri, a crocodile belt (brown) and stingray boots (black). Every time I talk to PLT he is quoting the Harvard Business Journal or Yogi Berra. To my surprise, and enjoyment, he referenced my blog. You can only imagine my amazement upon hearing this news. PLT has known me for the last 5 years and has seen me accomplish technical and business miracles - the only compliment he ever gave me was on my choice of clothes (I was wearing windowpane pants). To hear that he read my blog was like hearing the Pope say was hooked on 16 and Pregnant. That's when I realized that my blog was his Guilty Pleasure.

A Guilty Pleasure is something that you shouldn't like, but you do anyways.

I'm fairly certain that PLT wants to institute the caste system here in the states, but he thinks my blog is absolute genius. He can NEVER admit that he believes I'm the voice of my generation; but he will read every post (mindful not to comment). In my quest to become famous, I'll take any fans I can get.

That little run-in made me think about the whole "guilty pleasures" thing. I'm sure that everyone out in the world loves doing something that they dont want to admit to. It could be a that a very handsome, ridiculously talented blogger enjoys a nice hot bath at the end of a long ass day. With bubbles. And Candles. That smell like vanilla. Maybe some bath salts. With a chilled Zima. With a pixie stick. I don't know who this guy is, but I'm sure he wouldn't admit to this, even though it's like a little piece of heaven.

My guilty pleasure?  90210. I have seen every episode since it debuted. Every Monday at 8/7 Central. I actually DVR it so that we can watch after the kids are asleep. Every Monday at 9, I have a 2-scoop sundae and am enthralled in the high school drama. I've been waiting for the return of Ethan since the 1st season. I don't think he's coming back, but he was my favorite character. I think that Navid deserves better. I think that making Teddy gay was the wrong move. I think that Adriana will always be her own worse enemy. I think that Dixon and Anny aren't selling me on being brother and sister. I think that I know way too much about this show. I shouldn't like this show, but I do.

Some of my buddies have guilty pleasures of their own.

Dallas Jabbawockee is addicted to Jersey Shore. This may not sound bad since most people like this show. But most people are ghetto and dig raunchy stuff - like Jack Ass. Dallas is an Artsy-Fartsy cat. His entire life is centered around the arts. Very abstract and profound - like a modern day Socrates that looks like Joe Jonas. Because of his stature in the art world, he can't come out and say that he loves watching the train wreck that is Jersey Shore. This would be like Edgar Allen Poe thinking that Stephenie Meyer is pure awesomeness.

Big Ass Guy has a simple, but delicious guilty pleasure: Heath Bars. He is roughly the size of a real-life Shrek and is addicted to this chocolate-covered treat. He sneaks them from his wife and has a drawer full of them next to his bed. He is like a 6'6, 280lb 6 year-old sneaking candy. Awesomeness.

Zergio Jutierrez has some guilty pleasures that puts everyone else to shame. I've said before, Zergio is as close to a clone of me that this world will see. Because of this, I find his general ridiculous logical. Here we go! Zerg is hooked on the Rachel Zoe show. I never heard of this show, but after a quick google, I can see why this made the list. He hates it but can't stop watching it. Like the good husband he is, he watches other chick shows with Zara, but he secretly loves them. Another good one, and probably the best guilty pleasure that I have heard of, Zerg watches the "hot topics" portion of The View.

I'm sure that all of you out there have things that you're embarrassed to admit to - I'm thinking that the comments field will be light today ;)

Holy Frijoles!

I am an American-born Mexican from California. This means I have a kick-ass surname, attractive olive-colored skin, and speak absolutely no spanish. It also means, while growing up, all the holidays were spent at Grandma's house. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easters, Labor Day, Boxing Day, Yom Kippur, Teacher-in-Service Day, Saturday, Sunday; all of them spent with cousins, aunts, uncles, and people that were some how related to us via marriage. My parent's cousins and their cousins' cousins were all "family" and introduced as aunts and uncles. The best part of all was 99% of the "family"only spoke spanish. So we would generally have 156 people in a house drinking and eating like only Mexicans can do, talking at each other, and trying to communicate with me as I clung to my mommy. Like a stranger in a strange land, I navigated my youth with all the gumption and care of Magellan mapping out the Straits. As I grew up, beginning my journey to become the FamousRay that you have all come to know and lust after, I put that world behind me.

For those of you that don't know, my wife is a Central American import. From the land of San Salvador she flew on angels wings to be delivered to me. Not really - she rode on the back of a coyote and landed in Los Angeles. Most of her family is in the States and spread across from LA to the Inland Empire. Her childhood was much like mine, but she can actually speak spanish. So every holiday (Sundays included), her entire extended-family would show up at her parent's house and party like it's 1999. Two hundred Salvadorians packed into a house and doing pinatas in the front yard. Nelly absolutely LOVED it and figured that the whole world was this way.

Being Latino, there are just somethings that we must do as a people. The "family-get-together" is just one example. Here are a few more so that you get a better understanding:

1. We must stay with a family member when we visit...even though I have a million Marriott points
2. Because someone will end up Butt Hurt if we're at a hotel
3. We have to eat meals with the family
4. Grandma, grandpa, tio, tia, and cousins all having dinner together
5. Every night
6. If we leave the house, the entire herd is coming along
7. All in the same car
8. Even if we don't have enough seats for everyone
9. Only 1 car is used to transport up to 15 people at a time
10. Leaving the house without everyone will result in Butt Hurtness and we just can't have that

Since I have lived in the Great State of Texas, we go back to Cali every summer; that's how the above truths were revealed to me. Every summer I find myself in the whirlwind that is Chino aka El Salvador. I can remember a particular 4th of July when I drove from Irvine to Chino to Rancho Santa Margarita to Chino to Montclair to Chino to LA to Chino. For those of you not familiar with SoCal, let's just say that I was on the road for 26 hours that day. I'm sure that looking at the list of places we drove to you can see one place pops up more than the rest. The best part was that the family was Butt Hurt because we weren't making time to be with them. All the holidays are this way. We are split driving between families trying to keep emotions at bay while enjoying my relaxing vacation.

As an added bonus, there are subtle difference between my extended family and Nelly's. My family plans get-togethers - complete with menu and start time. If they say 3 o'clock they mean 2:55. If we are not there by 2:57 the phone calls start. They will not start eating until we are all there. Together. Nelly's family doesn't plan anything. Ever. People start showing up at her parent's house throughout the day. And they never go home. If we are not at the house when they randomly show up, they get their feelings hurt. Then the phone calls start.

This last trip out I had a revelation. While I took 20 people with me to Sam's Club to buy toilet paper and cereal it hit me. I was surrounded by at least 1 million people from morning to night, all eating and drinking and talking at each other, all in spanish, and I still don't speak a word, people are trying to communicate with me and I'm there clinging to my wife. I was reliving my youth and remembering all the reasons I joined the military when I turned 18. Nelly was reliving her youth and still loving it. She was wondering why we just didn't sell the house and move back in with her family.

The only reference I have of El Salvador comes from watching HGTV's House Hunter International and FX Network's The Shield. I know for damn sure that I'm not at Playa El Suzal but I'm not being chopped up into little pieces either - though Nelly has threatened me a few times. I'm somewhere in the middle of those extremes. I love going home and visiting family. It makes me feel like a kid again. It makes me realize why I love Texas so much. In a twist to this whole thing, I'm contemplating retirement in San Salvador just to get away from them all.

In all seriousness, everyone's family is jacked up. I just get to write about mine. I'm sure my kids and their spouses will say the same about us. For all their dysfunction, I love and miss them all very muchos. I'm sure they will be Butt Hurt when they read this and the phone calls will start. That's why I have Caller ID.