Growing up we had a “huerta” in Spanish (vegetable plot.. weird) in my grandmas home,
and as she was the own,
we had the ingredients to make … Gazpacho!!!
Here is a nice photo for you rich people, just making friends
Although it is healthy, but I like the old way as the grandma did it.
Ingretients-Tomato,cucumber,garlic, onion. Plus other things but those are the essential.
Spanish Gazpacho made from the “huerta” you could not taste it better.
That is not his food,
but i do look at
what engredients he puts here and there
i am always aware, seems not like a person like me
but in my old age, it seems that shit food
i just try to make good tasty and healthy food,
although it was my mother who raised me and i learned from her cooking,
once in a two moons my father cooks,
and is not only the great experience of cooking,
it is also learning from him his way and aftermath of his food result.
Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.
I dine
and intertwined
with the M and M wich is my shrine
Vegetables
are just collectibles
but make good decoration on my genitals
Some people call me fat
but I’m at least a bit smart
so I look at them and just fart
Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.
My country
does look kind like a face doesn´t it? If you add Portugal into us that is. We should invade Portugal and make it Spanish just so the face is complete. And we would be remembered in history as doing something great, invading another country just so our country has a nice look from the sky.
The land of the wild bulls, right now the festivities are coming up, and my town is one of the first that has the bullfights. And what they call “encierros” which is when they let the bulls loose at 9.a .m and they run through the streets and ofcourse if my body lets me I´ll be in the mix. I´ve been seeing this and doing it since a young kid so I know bulls and they know me…..I should stop actually in the middle of the run and have conversation with one of them. So I´ll probably be one of these dudes this month
and after the early morning running of the bulls we´ll have some great “paella” to recuperate our mangled legs and bodies and minds, that´s it
how in the world can people not like this type of food? Bunch of weirdos. After the paella which we eat here between 2-3 p.m ofcourse it´s the traditional cigarette
Now that I´m looking at the picture I do have a boyish face, and I´m going to be 32, always get mix that I´m turning 33 and it probably has to do because 33 was when Jesus died, so since my life expectancy I´m not too sure about it ,I might as well check out at 33. Same age as Jesus that might help to get a ticket into heaven. Fuck, what a stupid face. I actually don´t look at myself a lot in the mirror. This is weird. I look at my teeth when brushing, at my face when shaving(not in this instance though) but not really really look. Freaking strange again. I´m actually promoting smoking, there´s already a bunch of ads anti tabacco so it just seems fair to be pro tabacco. Have to have variety in a democracy. And after by glorious cigarette a well Spanish person goes to the “siesta” or nap time so light out for an hour
. That´s the Spanish way, no hurries no worries. And you should see the southern part of Spain, Andalucia, it takes out about one quarter of the map up over there, I know this place since I bounced quite a lot during these days
the 24 year old version of me of I´m too cool to go to school and I´m a mean tough bastard. Well I was posted in Viator to the south east of Spain over here
so I did spend some time around there, or here 
in the Spanish Legion and not a lot to see to tell you the truth, it´s hot but the Southern girls of Spain are also very hot. And Andalucia, this southern region of Spain is the poorest one that´s probably why most of the guys in the Legion came from there, not probably that´s just a fact really. So hot days, surrounded by men almost 24/7 and that´s not counting the deployments. So you can imagine the conversations what was the most talk about topic….pussy. We actually had some quite interesting philsophical debates about what type of vaginas where out there like taste, colour, dimensions, the flaps of them, we covered everything. It´s all part of breaking a routine and the conversations got even worst if deployed. They should have gave us the Nobel Philosophy price for our understandings and findings. Good old soldiering humour when violence is the norm and death is real possibility. So what if the casket didn´t fit you, did they brake a leg, or cut it? There was actually a guy who said that if his legs where blown up, this conversations happened usually after some days passed after on attack that took half of the leg of one of my guys, which I still see once in a while and he´ll tell you that no regrets but we don´t talk about that, now he´s married and going on with his life working in the shop of his father. Anyways this dude, funny bastard, well he very seriously said that if his legs where blown off and he died he wanted the casket to be a small one in order to save money. Money? For what you idiot is the government who´s going to pay for your funeral not your family, but it seems we didn´t convince him. So bunch of dudes, put in a bunch of strange situations to say the least you might as well have fun with it, keep morale up. And sex, girls, the southern girls of Andalucia
yep, beautiful women down there. It is true that most of them are dark hair and skin, probably since the Marrocans invaded us some centuries ago they left a mark in the genes that has passed down. Plus at first when I got there I had no clue what the hell they where talking about, just the accent. It would be like a guy from New York to go to the deep South and try to understand every word of a tick southern accent. But there they are with the traditional flower on the head, it´s the traditional custom
there you go, now as we say here you have to say….Ole! Although you don´t have to put your palms up like her if you don´t want to but the Ole! shouting it is mandatory. So from Spain with love I leave you with a little bitty of my country.
Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.
They say the way to the heart of a man is through food, not very sure about that but if you mix a bit of banana pudding with some rough sex I can guarantee you, you´ll have my heart. First off, bananas are great protein products and rough sex keeps your heart pumping thereby you are doing some cardio, which will decrease you chance of high cholesterol or high blood pressure and increase you chances of living up until you are 100 years old . So that is the key to a long and prosperous life…Banana pudding and rough sex.
Why a prosperous life you might ask. Easy, beassy, (don´t know what that means). I do know that there has been a recent study by some little brainy person in Harvard that if you have sex more than 200+ times a year you are more likely to be a much more happier person. So this led me to think, if you are happy happy, then you are probably more sociable, and probably have more stamina to get your ass out of the couch and go find a job, or get a promotion in your work. You can be the jack of all trades, a renaissance man, the next Bill Gates which just this simple formula.
So ladies I´ll encourage you for the sake of humanity, for the sake of world peace and world order that you´ll start baking and some rough sex added to the equation. Believe me, happy people don´t go to wars, so we got that solved. Happy people are more likeable so we will live in a much better society where everybody will be walking around with a big fat smile plastered on their faces. The world will be a much better place, scratch that, the world would be a perfect place with just banana pudding and rough sex.
I have what I call my little book of secrets, my notebook that I walk around with and write things that catch my eye or brain? Here is my knowledge passed to you, a little at least, you´re welcome.
-There where none before me there will be none after me that makes me the one and only. I´m young and single and love to mingle certified bonafied, and double qualified to bring you satisfaction with a hole lot of action. Look out baby, I´m your love man! I AM HUNGRY.
-I belief that the biggest differences between artist and normal people is the artist ability to describe what everyone else feels, and sometimes if their lucky to describe something no one else has felt before.
-love them and leave them.
-Maximize efficiency.
-He´s as jittery as a sinner about to enter the pearly gates.
-Don´t put the pussy on the pedestal.
-Happy as a hippo.
-Consistency is the worst enemy of the imaginative.
-Adversity doesn´t build character but rather it reveals character.
-Loyalty above all else except honor.
-What´s cooking good looking?
– Peace through brute force
-Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that most frighten us. You playing small doesn´t serve the world. Theere´s nothing enlightening about shrinking so that others won´t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine in our own ways as children do. It´s just not in some of us is in everyone of us. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do so. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.(True?don´t know but sounds good)
-Symbiosis
-Calibrate yourself to even and then click another notch to yourself. Remove yourself from the equation. Once you´re calibrated you are free to be an ass hole.
-Talking to women is like shouting down a well
-Donating your eggs is exchange of currency. The World Bank needs you ladies!
– Good strategy is not only doing the right thing, it´s about doing the right thing at the right time.
– A cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen.
-You nickname goes against all nickname protocols.
-Demoscratos(greek for democracy)
-Americana
-Contrafactual
-Question everything, a life without questioning is a life not lived.
-Live fast, die young and leave a nice looking body behind.
-Everyone has its own destiny but not everyone makes the choices to follow it.
-A little violence never hurt anybody( said by a gangster from the Bonnano family)
There is this blog by a woman(check it out) called datingdramasofathirtysomething, she´s fun to read. She wrote a piece called What woman really want, and I made the fateful error of commenting on it, so she challenged me on writing what guys wanted. So here you go, this is what guy´s want. I´ll go quick and to the point. And maybe a little crazy.(The letters you see in bold are hers, and then is my reply.)
1-If we love our mother,you love our mother. And the other way around, so you say woman express extreme opinion about other women…that´s the freaking problem, going down the middle of the road is not that bad of idea. Plus you put us in a situation where out of the blue the other girl is going to be pisses off because the guy went along with what the girl said. Screwby that.
2-To be told we´re beautiful. Not on the days when we are feeling low, because we know you´re saying it to make us feel better….Say it when you mean it. Maybe we do mean it when you get out of bed with your hair all rattle up, that is love.
3-..Being dependent on us is a strain we can´t always handle. We are not your mother. That would be a gay guy, but at the end of the day if you love a person you share things with them and support each other. Tell Bill Clinton and Hillary, tell me if those two were´nt dependent on each other to win, maybe this is a bit extreme example but somebody should understand it.
4-Answer the damn text message, Make the promised phone call.That would mean we are dependent on you, you don´t really want a guy that is constantly drooling over you.
5-To be proud of you. Don´t drink to much. Don´t embarrass us by drinking too much.. I can´t be a good candidate to challenge this point, but I will say that you woman will be proud of your man even if he makes a dick of himself, that is love. Then in private you can smack him around, but in public defend your man. He won´t be always perfect, neither are you!!
6-Nothing is more attractive than laughter… Agreed, although there is a fine line by crossing to the side of becoming the joke of town. So we men have to be careful, and some man are not funny and girls find that sexy, and what the fuck….it´s not all black and white.
7-To be confident in our relationship. We may pretend that we don´t care what people think, but we do. Don´t openly flirt with our best friend in a room full of people… What if we are just being funny and cordial? It´s not flirting it´s being cordial you take it as being a dick and that is your insecurity, if you really believe and know your man love you and only you, you won´t even notice that.
8-To be kissed…and by someone who knows how….. That takes practice so if you get a guy who knows how to kiss you, it´s probably because he´s a man whore, like me, so you pretty much feel your way with whatever woman your with, make her see the stars.
11-We can smell bullshit a mile away. Do yourself a favour and don´t lie to us. Know this is a put down for men, we smell bullshit the same mile away, or maybe even more. Of course we´ll lie, and you know what you will believe it because you wan´t to believe it. Most of the time though.
I´m just writing little fragment´s from her post, and she has 15 points to make about men, there interesting and funny, so I´m being maybe a little…tell you the truth a can´t handle it more. I´m getting a headache. We don´t like to be told what to do, we are men and as men we rule, unfortunately for you we are the majority in the global world, meaning the successful majority. And at the end of the day girls will always be attracted to bad boys. And when I say bad boys I´m not referring to rock stars, I´m referring to a guy that has two good pair of balls, know how to take care of himself,is confident with himself, helps her in what she needs, and he´s the Alpha male. Period. That´s what the fuck is the love doctor is saying after I just got back again from the hospital. But when I saw that comment and challenge I had to write.
The priest came running out of his office sweat pouring from every pour of his thin body starvation was hitting every person of catholic belief. Starvation of liberty. He just received an unexpected phone call, no matter how much he prayed to his dear God his prayers went unanswered and he was starting to doubt his own faith the world was swirling all around the Catholic Church debris hitting her like a human being hit by a hurricane so frail compared to the outside forces. They would not survive for long. The priest entered the Bishop´s office.
“What´s the matter? Compose your self.”
The priest finally caught his breath, “The archbishop of Boston has been killed.”
“It´s the second fatality we have had in less than a year, are my suspicions correct when I state that they are the same people who killed our bishop in San Francisco.”
“There is no doubt.”
“O.k, you go with the congregation, they are looking up to you and God for support. Reassure them that God will amend all these atrocities, we will survive, the church will survive. Go on and God be with you.” The priest nodded and took off to pas mass for his followers.
The bishop stood for a minute staring at the brown wall ahead of him, so empty of photographs or paintings, just as empty as his thoughts. The thought´s that had also been stolen like the pictures and photographs that had once been on the wall a year ago. They had full power now although it had taken them years to achieve this they where now on top and it seemed that no line was too red to be crossed. Here he was in the twenty first century and his thoughts retrieved to 708 when Islamist invaded and decided to wreak havoc among the christian population of the Iberian peninsula. He reached for the phone and called the Vatican. They gave him the go ahead.
She was sitting on a black chair standing out like an elephant in a room with her white nursing uniform, but she had been in that chair in that office for over two years and people had gotten use to see her. She actually was part of a greater campaign to have the people who didn´t live in the house appreciate even more the owner of the house. She could sense the stares that some of the people working there would throw at her and the nice phony conversations they would share with her thinking she was just another stupid prop they had to use to get the outside people keep on liking the inside man. She was there for a purpose, when God will call on her she would use her skill to do what HE needed her to do. She knew every single room every single closet and what where inside those closets her situation awareness and hearing where amplified. She was the only one who could administer the shot of morphine every day to the inside man. That was the only thing he wanted her to do, she had accepted with the condition she could bring with her her dog a picture perfect beige labrador-retriever,who wasn´t camera shy and very photogenic which suited fine the hole image of the the beautiful white house she was working in.
The dog stood up and started liking her right palm. “I know honey, I know it hurts, but the time has come.”
It had been in the making for years. The Pope had designated her, she had a unique ability that God had given her, compassion and the gift of not being able to see. Being born blind never stopped her from accomplishing when at a very early age she heard the calling from God of what her destiny and purpose in the world would be. She graduated with honours from Harvard walking out with a nursing degree. Her not being able to see never got in the way of being the best. When the inside man stood in front of the house giving a speech about universal healthcare and the right of a woman to choose, but at the same time proving to the world he was respectful of everyone. He would point out at her, Clemencia. The dark hair hispanic christian nun who had graduated with honours from Harvard like he had he said jokingly except he said she was the precious jewel of the american people. Then jokingly added, “She´s the one who keeps me going every morning, literally.” People could see her disability and at the same time see the heart of the man they had entrusted their country to move in the right direction. It was perfect for him, his numbers at the polls had been declining week after week and scandal after scandal was hitting the house. She was in effect, his precious jewel.
The time had come, the microchip implanted on her labrador-retriever more than three years ago had finally given the signal so she stood up with the dog and walked towards the east wing of the house passing by ten secret agents before she reached the door. She knocked.
“Come in Clemencia.” The deep voice called out.
“How are you feeling today sir?”
“I will be better now, that´s for sure.”
She could smell the the distinct damp odour of the musallah as the president stood up from it after being on his knees for his six minutes of prayer. Since he was in the United States he had to face east-north and that way he would face Mecca. This meant a five minute fast walk from the west wing. But he too was on a mission from another God.
“Well, how was your day Clemencia?”
“It has been fine, the dog seems a little hungry.”
“Ooo, cute dog we´ll get you some stake after my shot, best in the free world.”
She administered the shot into his rear end. “I didn´t even feel it.”
“I´m glad Mr. President, you will feel another thing in a couple of seconds.”
“What?”
“My name is Clemencia Mr.President and it translate to clemency in english, which is what I´m giving you for your faults.”
The next day the nation mourned.
CRAZY LIFE 
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