Archive for December, 2011

Pi-pi-pitter patter

Posted in Uncategorized on December 31, 2011 by Cristina

Those middle school choose-your-own-adventure books gave the genre a bad rep. Julio Cortázar’s novel, Rayuela, is pretty amazing if you have the patience for nearly 600 pages of stream of consciousness fiction. Last night, my mind and heart nearly exploded at Sleep No More, an interactive performance of Macbeth set in the historic McKittrick Hotel. My pulse was already heightened at the coat check and my sis and I gripped each other for the first 5 minutes. After a couple of hours of wandering around taxidermy-filled rooms following actors from floor to floor, I stumbled upon an intense strobe-lit dance scene that will likely haunt my dreams forever. When a drop of fake blood splattered onto my hand from the naked goat-headed man, I realized that this was the most phenomenal piece of live entertainment I’ve seen.

Luckily, that damned spot came off easily. If this is the direction theater’s going in, I might need a heart transplant. Bloody brilliant!

The future isn’t now, it’s later

Posted in Uncategorized on December 29, 2011 by Cristina

I don’t have an iPhone and while it may be acceptable in Portland, it’s an object of astonishment in Gotham City. When I take out my phone, people exclaim “what is that?” as if I’d just donned a monocle. I’m in the process of deciding whether I should join the technological present (which, as a friend pointed out, I mistakenly refer to as the future).
I had dinner with a blind man last night and he was talking to his iPhone. Talking TO the phone, not VIA the phone! Robot lady didn’t have the answer to his question and when he told her she was dumb, she replied with “I respect you.” Whaaaa!?! I don’t want goddamn r-e-s-p-e-c-t from technology, I want HELP!
Later in the evening, I sat at a bar, flanked by my sister who wields a Blackberry and a wild-eyed boy with his iPhone. I proposed a game: let’s compare your last two phone photos. The first juxtaposition was quite nice: his, an airplane sunrise and my sister’s, a Brooklyn building-rise I captured.

Fun game! We played again with “five photos back” and that was also interesting. I don’t remember who said it, but “last X-rated photo” was the third category. The result went something like this:

We should have just ended the game with that winning hand, but “No, no, no!” sister & I said. “Your photo isn’t risqué at all, we have a bare ass here!” Big mistake. He said, “Well, the last thing I have is a video of a cum shot on a girl’s ass. She wanted me to film it.” Oh.my.god.the.horror! Game over! I can’t tell if we won or lost, which is a telltale sign of technology overload. The iPhone resistance continues…until the future.

Fat is phat

Posted in Uncategorized on December 27, 2011 by Cristina

My sister likes to wear pants that fit like this:

Snug and sexy. I’d been wearing her expensive size 27 skinny jeans for a while and one day, the button broke. It made her cry and that’s when I knew that it was time to get my reverse anorexia under control.
These examples illustrate my distorted self image:
1. When shopping, I usually go to the size 4ish section and hold things up thinking, “Yeah, this is my size!” My sister looks at me and says, “Bitch, keep moving down the rack to the size 10!”
2. If I walk toward glass doors and see my reflection, I’m usually pleased. Only when I’m walking with someone who I’d previously thought to be my size do I realize that I’m twice the width. Not trick mirrors, Cristina, they’re not trick mirrors.
3. I often try on size small clothes and have that laughable moment in the dressing room when I can’t pull the shit up past my thighs. I never learn this lesson, keep doing it and doing it.
4. I eat the portions of 1.5 adults because things taste too good.
The symptoms are unmistakable: full-blown reverse anorexia.

I lack the self control and also the control top tights that most reasonable women have. Reverse anorexia is good for the self-esteem, but bad for my sister’s ‘cigarette-fit’ jeans and my arteries. The solution isn’t a diet or an attitude-shift, but rather getting into some ‘cigar-fit’ jeans, sinking into a couch with Christmas leftovers. I have reverse anorexia and accept the fact that I’d rather be the dude on the right than the one on the left:

The most beautiful thing

Posted in Uncategorized on December 18, 2011 by Cristina

On the A train home from the airport at 5:30am I didn’t expect to see this most beautiful thing. A sequoia of a man with graying, shoulder-length dreadlocks sat across from me for half an hour. He was either going to or coming from a construction job that covered his clothes in white plaster, but his hands were spotless. After looking around really attentively for a while, he took out half of a grapefruit that’d been carefully peeled to the white pith. With more gusto than I’ve ever seen anyone eat anything, the man went to town on that juicy grapefruit like he was eating pussy.
It reminded me of this album cover, but was infinitely better:

I went out and bought grapefruit the next day. Does that make me gay?

No rocks at the rock show

Posted in Uncategorized on December 3, 2011 by Cristina

I give up. No more trying to hide from students in public, it’s futile. I was at a show last night, waiting for the apathetic bartender to make eye contact when I hear, “¡hooolaa, profesora Cristiiina!” Yes, yes, ¿Qué tal? to the student about to wave her hand off her wrist. Damn, they spot me fast! I headed up to a balcony area to watch Mimicking Birds and Typhoon from this nice vantage point:
Typhoon @ Mississippi Studios
This is why I can’t have nice things: I set my beer on the wooden ledge, Typhoon’s rockness was so raucous that the beer shimmied its way to the edge and ermmm… dived in all of its 12oz glory into the poor drummer below. I stood there, not touching anything, mortified as the fella rightly looked up with a stink-eye. After he finished the song with his beery-bells, he said, “Why don’t you throw down a towel next time?!” Arghhh, not being able to explain to him that sound waves were to blame, I unraveled my scarf and lowered it down. By now, the whole crowd was watching, judging with their beady eyes. A kind soul brought a towel and
drummer-boy threw the scarf back up to girl-who-shouldn’t-be-taken-out.
A-puh-puh-puh-puh-plause. The show went on, sticky drum and all.

My friends kept offering me sips of their beers, but all I wanted was a huge rock to crawl under. At the end, I passed along my apologies to the nice ladies at the merch table and paid my dues. This album is fantastic, listen to it and understand how it could make a glass of beer want to crowd surf.