Would somebody PLEASE hook a Brotha up?

I'll make is short and simple. What does a Brotha have to do around here to get in some good commercials. As most of you know I live in a small town in Wisconsin. I haven't been subjected to much racism, just a few occasions where my mind goes into overdrive and digs the prejudice minds of small town America.

There aren't many minorities around here. The biggest minority group here are the Hmong people, then followed by blacks and then Hispanics.

I don't have cable so all I watch is local T.V. I noticed something the other day. First, there are NO commercials that have Asians (putting Hmongs in a big category) or Hispanics in it.

The lucky ones to have spots on local commercials are my African American brethren. But are they lucky? There have been about 3-4 occasion where blacks were featured in the commercials. The funny thing is that they're always in commercials for "Are you strapped for money, can't pay the rent until next month? Well Here at Fast Money we can help you out"

Aint that about a bitch. Can you give a brotha a break? I thought they got a break when I saw a black couple in a clothing commercial. Finally, a minority gets to represent right? Wrong. The commercial was for the local goodwill stores. There's nothing wrong with Good will, other that it only sells used clothing, but why can't they get a spot for Sears or even JC Penny. I'm not even asking for a spot for Marshall Fields, or one of the Boston Store affiliates. All am asking is the get a spot where it's not assumed that a brotha or sista needs that extra cash because they don't make enough money, or that they're so strapped for cash that they only shop at the local Good Will store. This commercial couldn't be father from the truth. A brotha may have a small house or apartment, and it may not be nice, but THEY ALWAYS dress nice because they always gotta look KRISPY.

Here's the other messed up thing. I have seen a commercial for a Mexican restaurant. This should tell you how white this town is. The Waiters and waitresses were white, even the two of the three cooks there was white. When I saw the commercial for the Restaurant, who do they show? The two white cooks and three fine white girls waitressing.

I thought for sure that Hispanics had a strong foothold in the waiter business, here white people managed to even take that away.

Here is a public announcement calling all Blacks, Asians, and Hispanics. Infiltrate every small town America. You know white girls love color. I say, in the wise words of King Richard the Third "If we can't kick them out, we'll breed them out." Maybe then we'll get to be in better commercials and be able to shop in finer clothing stores and always have money to pay the rent

Welcome to Miami, Bienvenidos a Miami.

I love that Will Smith song, and that song takes me back to when we first got off the boat and into the paradise called AMERICA. Well it wasn't quite like this.

My family and I came to the US in a plane (no we did not swim from Bolivia to the US). My Dad wanted to live my brothers and I do have a good future here. When we first got to Miami, my father had one friend who rented an apartment for us and was waiting for us when we arrived.

My Dad's friend rented an apartment in the famous area called Little Havana in Miami. We lived in the middle of it, on 8th street (those not familiar there is a huge festival every year there and it's crazy).

We lived half a block from this monument (is that you Conneticut Brown Sugar?).

When we first got there, my dad's friend gave my brothers and I three warnings:

1. Don't talk to strangers

2. Don't go wondering around, because you'll get lost

3. Be careful of voodoo rituals in the neighborhood

The third warning is the reason for the post.

Right in front of our window there was a huge tree. If you haven't noticed some trees have markings on then and some are in the shape of an eye. The tree in front of our apartment had this marking in the shape of an eye, so the local voodoo doctor drew another eye next to the one that was already there. People made several offerings, and buried them at the foot of the tree. People would bury money and jewelry and part of the sacrifice is that they would kill chickens.

The people had a name for the tree, I don't remember the name they had but we'll call him JOBU (This is from the movie Major League, Cerrano's god. Freakinrican knows what I'm talking about, this is one of his favorite movies.)

Sometimes after someone made an offering (these were done in the middle of the night) they would yell "Don't take from Jobu or you will die," or something to that effect.

Here's the crazy part. One day our neighbor knocked on our door asking to borrow some money. We didn't give him any because first, we didn't have extra money laying around, and second, he was a drugie so even if we had money we wouldn't have given it to him. That same day, it was around Midnight I saw him walk in front of the tree. He was talking to the tree, I couldn't hear what he was saying but I could tell he was talking to it. I was 10 at the time and I didn't want to see the ritual, because I thought he was going to sacrifice something.

I later found out that someone else saw him there and he didn't make a sacrifice to Jobu, he stole from Jobu. Someone saw him run away with jewelry and money.

The next morning someone knocked on his door, and he didn't answer. Then the manager of the building opened his door and he wasn't there. I don't know why he did that but that's what happened.

I didn't think too much about it until I heard the manager talking to people about this guy. I overheard him say "he's gone and I don't think he's ever coming back. He stole from Jobu and who know what happened to him."

A month later the manager went into his apartment. Everything was still there, all his clothes, furniture, even all the stuff he had in storage in the basement. A lot of things could've happened; 1. He could've been deported (he was Cuban and many times this is what happened).

2. He took the money and ran like nobody's business

3. He got could've gotten arrested for stealing

4. The local voodoo doctor punished him somehow

5. The one everyone believed to be the answer was that Jobu made him disappear.

I don't know what happened because two days later after no one knew what happened to him my dad found a better place and we moved.

I'm a religious person, and I know not to mess with this stuff. It's real and if you mess with it you could get hurt.

I really don't doubt that something bad happened to him for stealing. I don't think the tree did anything to him but maybe the voodoo doctor did something to him.

The Goldnugget of the day is: if you play with fire, you're gonna get burned. If you mess with this YOU could end up like the neighbor we never saw again. YOU can be the next victim of JOBU.

Part Deuce - Keeping it Reeeeeal

Homer reminded me of a funny story that happened my first year of Law School. I lived in a rougher part in Madison, mainly Hispanics and blacks. A good friend of mine lived in the next building, he was white and we'll call him Big Mike (because he was big and his name is Mike).

Any way, one day we're heading home in Madison's best public transportation, the bus. It's late and it's me and Big Mike in the back and 2 or 3 black dudes towards the front (isn't is supposed to be the other way around?). We're talkin about school and then some how we get talkin about stand up comedy and Dave Chappelle and Chris Rock.

We're talking about the shows and we start quoting parts from Chris Rock's Bigger and Blacker. I say a few and then Big Mike decides to say, trying to imitate Chris Rock's voice and slang "Just trying to keep it Reeeeeeeal." Big Mike, in his excitement and feeble attempt at imitation, doesn't realize how loud he says it. He said it loud enough for the bus driver to look from his rearview mirror. The 2 or 3 black guys there turn around to look at Big Mike, with a look that said "Look at this white guy, what the hell does he think he's doing and who is he talking too?"

I did what any good friend would do. I looked at the opposite direction of where Big Mike was sitting and acted as if I didn't know him. He then notices that those guys are looking at him. In order to cover his ass, he belts out a nervous laugh and says (loud and lookin to the front, not looking at the guys) "Oh God I love Chris Rock, he's so funny."

I just shake my head, laugh and give him a look that says "Oh white boy, what have you done."
We got out of the bus, he got a weird look from one of the guys again and we left. He then looks at me, and with that nervous laugh asks me "was I that loud?" I say "Big Mike, you were loud enough for Chris Rock himself to have heard you."

Shout out to Big Mike and all the white wanna be Chris Rocks'.

Keeping it Reeeeeeeeeal

Did anyone happen to catch the tonight show yesterday? Well if you didn't you missed a good one.

I like Chris Rock because everytime he says something, he laughs about it but it is something that is closer to the truth than any of us would dare say.

Chris (look at me, I talk about him as if he's my best friend) starts talking about the Hurricane and black people.

One of the things he said was, and the quote may not be exact but you'll get the point: "I'm proud of black people, the Hurricane tells you how strong black people are. White people aren't as tough, you know why don't see white people on the news, cuz they either ran away or they died, and Black people survived around water, and we don't take well to water" The last part was tough for the crowd to swallow, they laughed a bit but not a lot because, although it was funny, just the situation itself is nothing to laugh about. No one wants to laugh at the death of others.

In the same segment he said the following "You know all the people that didn't vote for Bush, they were the ones left up in the roof tops. Damn man, I'm surprised he didn't blast them away, you know he could've done it!"

How is that for truth. He may not say it in a politically correct way, but calls it as he sees it. That's the great thing about comedy, if you're a good comedian and you say something that others wouldn't but you can still laugh about it, the point made really sticks to you.

I guess I like this kind of humor, that and watching people hurt themselves, although I have cooled down a bit from the latter because of Karma.

Anyway the gold nugget is this: If you got something to say that is a bit edgy throw in a funny twist it may help you, if anything else just quote Chris Rock and even white people will get away with saying something racist.

Fatherhood

This post may be a bit cheezy but for some reason I feel like writing about it.

I was home this weekend and my wife gave me one of the best compliments I've heard in a while.

We were sitting together in the couch looking at TV and there was this furniture commercial on TV, and at the same time we were looking through the new Pottery Barn catalog.

She looked at me and said "You're such a father." What does this mean and what prompted this comment? Let me tell you.

When we were looking at the TV there was this commercial from Ashley Furniture and there was a really nice sectional with end tables. My wife says "that would look good here." My response was "Nah, we can't get that because the corners look too sharp on the end tables and the girls could get hurt."

Then while we were looking through the catalog my wife points out to this shelving unit and says "how cool would it be to have that in the kitchen." My response was "Nah, we can't get that, the girls would climb that and then all that stuff will fall on top of them."

To complete the trifecta we looked at the TV again and saw a commercial for some dolls. My wife says "I think the girls would like that, they're getting to the point to play with that stuff." My response "Nah, we can't get that. Did you see the size of those accessories? They could choke on that stuff, that looks unsafe to be advertised for kids from 2-8"

That's when my wife looked at me and said "You're such a dad." I don't think my wife meant it as a compliment but for some reason it felt like a compliment. It's funny how fatherhood changes you and it takes things like these to make you stop and see how much you've really changed.

Long live the game

GTA does not mean Grand Tourismo Auto (right papI?) It actually means Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. This is not a review of the game but how it affected my law school performance and perhaps that of Homer's.

I love playing video games, but I am more into sports video games like FIFA, Madden and the like. When San Andreas came out, Homer heard all the great reviews and wanted in some of the hype. So I brought my playstation to his place and we rented the game to see how it was. We rented the game in December of our third year, as if we needed distraction before finals.

I played the first GTA and wasn't a fan and I didn't think I would be for this one either. We started playing and it was interesting, then it progressed to funny, then exiting then obsessive.

How obsessive you ask? It became to the point that I was crashing at Homer's place 3 times a week because we would play the game from 8 to midnight and most times even later. We took turns solving the missions. When we failed we started again and again until the mission was accomplished. During lunch times most of our conversations were no longer things like "did u get what Bush v. Gore has to do with the Schiavo case?", it was more like "when you approach the ballas turf what weapon do you use for CJ," or "Make sure that when you make the turn by the pizza joint you have the SMG ready to fire at the ballas." Pretty pathetic right? It got worse. At times we would skip class just we could be a mission. It gets worse.

After playing the game so much, I think we started thinking like the main character Carl Johnson (CJ). Homer and I would be walking outside and see a bike unchained and jokingly we would say something like "hey we should steal that, we'd get to class quicker." One time there was a armored truck parked outside Homer's house and we said to each other "bazooka would take that truck right out."

I'm telling you the game was obsessive. A lot of the missions interesting and exiting and others were just plain dumb and long. We discussed strategy during class. We inquired info from other fellow GTArs. More importantly we consulted the geniuses of the internet that had hints on beating the game.

Then came exam time. The hours spent studying decreased and the hours spent playing increased. I was hopping for a successful semester grade wise. It wasn't, but at least we conquered all of the Ballas (rival gang) territory, and we knew when to use the AK-47 and an SMG.

We talked about it during class, during lunch and online. How nerdy right? We had no control over this. It took over our lives and the only thing we wanted was for CJ to have his revenge against Ryder (Eazy E look a like) and save his brother Sweet.

Oh how sad it is. This reminds me of a funny story. Homer and I were talking about the game in the phone when I was home. Some background; CJ's girl in some scenes was this annoying ass Bitch name Catalina. She was bossy, bitchy and annoying, like most girls only she had a really annoying voice (just kidding ladies). Homer and I were talking about Catalina when my wife walks in and asks "who's Catalina." I didn't want to tell her who she was because she didn't know how much time we actually spent playing this game (I hope she doesn't read this post, otherwise I'm fucked). I tell her "Oh Homer met this chick at the bar, her name is Catalina and he liked her at first, but is now starting to annoy him." I describe Catalina just as she is in the game. She buys it, I'm home free.

The game took us into second semester of third year. Freakinrican will attest as to how often we talked about it and how annoying it was, and how nerdy we sounded.

It was a sad day when we completed the game. All the highfives were gone (we did this after completing every mission and getting "Respect") no more screaming "RIGHT ANALOG" (it took us a while to figure out what this was, but when we found out, we were unstoppable) and no more booty calls with Catalina. After the game was finished life didn't have much of an importance, we were left with nothing to accomplish. The neon lights in the street lost it's meaning, we didn't want to steal bikes or cars anymore, and we stopped scheming how to steal that armored truck. I miss those days

I think that is as much as I will bore you with the obsession of GTA. By the way, I did really bad that semester and the one after that, but by then I had a job lined up and didn't worry too much about it.

LONG LIVE CJ and GROVE STREET

"The Man" did it to me again.

It's been a while since something like this happened to me.

Two weeks ago my wife and I decided to sell our baby's clothes. I went to a place called "once upon a child." They buy and sell used kids clothes. We figured we'd get good money considering we had a lot of it, most of it was in really good shape and most of the clothes was name brand clothing. I went there dressed as follows (I mention this because I'm covering my bases as to what set it off): I had a yellow Ralph Lauren T-shirt Ralph Lauren Cargo pants and Diesel shoes.

I go the store and tell the lady, very politely "Miss (the bitch was fat and older), I would like to sell these clothes." From this point on she will be known as the Fat Bitch, or FB for short.
FB "sure, name, number and I'll let you know in 20 minutes."
me "OK, thank you and see you in 20 minutes."

I walk around a bit go outside go to Blockbuster and check out the new releases. 20 minutes pass and I go back to the place.

Me "Miss, are the clothes ready?"
FB "yes, this is how much we'll give you for the clothes" Shows me a ticket for $1.50.
me "$1.50 for all that? I think I'll just take it back."
FB "OK, but just so you know we were only going to buy these two items." She shows me two items of clothing that still had the tags on them, they were brand new.
me "oh, well, like I said I think I'll just take the clothes back."
FB gives me a weird look and says "ok."

I don't think too much about it, just surprised we didn't get more. I go back home and tell the wife. She is also very surprised and jokingly says "well maybe they didn't take it because you're Hispanic." At that moment I think and say, ala Jerry Seinfeld to Newman "Fat Bitch."

It's time to think what to do. We decided that my wife would take clothes this weekend and see what happens. Maybe out clothes is not as nice as I thought they were. We decided on my wife taking it for two reasons. See if the Fat Bitch denies her and many have said that my wife looks more Italian than Hispanic. So we decided to test it this weekend past.

I dropped my wife off at the front, just in case the Fat Bitch remembered. She goes in drops off the clothes and we leave. We come back in 20 minutes and we both go inside. The FB is not there, instead it's two young girls. They comment on how beautiful our daughters are and tell us that they're Buying almost all of it and giving us good money for it too.

Apparently the process is that the employee's call in to their regional office and then they tell them what to buy. I think the FB never called it in. I think she saw me and automatically decided not to buy it.

We leave the place, and at this point I'm pissed. I feel like beating up the next white guy that passes by. Now don't say shit, I really wouldn't beat anybody up, but just saying how pissed I was.

Maybe I'm overreacting, Does anyone else think this is a sort of racism? Obviously a lot more went on but the fact is this. Lady sees me, doesn't buy clothes, Lady sees my wife and buys clothes. WHAT THE FUCK. I feel like suing the place, but who knows, maybe I should say something about it so I give them bad publicity.

Some people reading this may think that I'm just playing the race card. Maybe so, but if not racist motivation here then what. Or if I'm right and should do something let me know.

Going down Hill

I'm going to need some corroborating stories after this post. I was talking to a friend of mine last week about how time flies and how old we felt after talking about the glory days. Then, the Rican had a post about old school jams, and that got me thinking about today's post.

I remember turning 25, aaaaaahhhhhh the great days. Some people told that when I reach 25 I would feel old, but that was not the case. For some reason to me that felt like the perfect age. I wasn't too old to hang out with the college crowd and not young to hang with the professionals (30 somethings).

At that time I was in fairly good shape, went to dance clubs a lot and played soccer regularly. I drove a green Honda civic that was new at the time and was a nice ride. It was fast, had a good stereo system and had nice rims. Anyway, I really felt cool (I dare not say hip, see previous post), and mature.

Then I hit 26 and for some reason I felt old as hell. What the hell happened!!! All of a sudden, my car didn't seem that cool, I felt old around the college crowd and I certainly wasn't up to date with the latest songs and slang. I Suddenly became disconnected from everything I knew to be cool. I felt old in dance clubs (I don't feel like that anymore about dance clubs, but since it's been a while since I go to one I dare not step on the dance floor, unless is Latin dancing and then I have no shame of my skills) .

Luckily around that time I was in Law School and a lot of my friends are a lot younger than me, and hanging with them didn't make me feel as old.

Fellow bloggers, what was the age that hit you the hardest. Like I said, for me it was 26, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Gone too far?

Some may think this inappropriate, but it's my blog and I'll do and write what I want.

Lets proceed.

Everyone has done things that maybe regretted later. I'm talking about sex stuff one regrets. Whether is doing something with an ugly ass girl/guy or having sex in a place they shouldn't have.

One of the things I regret was getting a blow job in the back of a restaurant. I wont go into details because they're inconsequential to the post (at least that's my excuse). Long story short (ala Homer), I was drunk, she was drunk, I kissed her, she kissed me, I asked for a blow job, she gave the blow job and went back to eat.

For some that may be too much info and may think it was inappropriate to do. But when you're 20 and horny not much matters.

The following story is the top of all the things I've been around that I think is going too far.
I was in High school, I think I might have been a junior or a sophomore. There was this chick who had transferred from a school in the city (I went to a suburban school, yes I bussed it from the city to the suburb). From what I remember she was white, skinny and ugly.
I was in class and a friend of mine comes in and tells me "dude, there's a line to go to the guys bathroom. When do you ever see a line to the guys bathroom."
I say "that is weird." So in my highschool curiosity I look outside and I don't see a line. I think to myself "did something happen like someone got into a fight or something?"

What happened I could not have guessed it in a million years. Apparently this new chick got busted for giving blow jobs in the boys bathroom. I don't know what is worse, for the girl to be giving that many blow jobs or to be the last guy on the line. Bottom line, the girl got expelled and some of the guys got suspended .

Some girls may say, that's bull shit why does the girl get kicked out and all the boys get is a suspension. Can you imagine your parents getting a call from the principal saying "I hate to tell you Karen but Jonnie has been suspended for (clear his throat)inappropriate conduct, he got his dick sucked by a girl." I know my parents would literally kill me if they got that call. I digress.

That's not even the worse part of the story. Apparently she went to the rival school were she also got kicked out for giving blow jobs, this time somewhere near the lunch room. I can't say for sure that this is true, but if a girl gives 10 blow jobs in one sitting, she's bound to do it again.

I knew one of the guys that got the blow job, he was happy recipient number 3. A few days later he went home for having a burning sensation when peeing. Hummmm, I wonder why he got that.

Here's a gold nugget to the guys - If you meet a girl that has the nickname blow job Betty, chances are that it's the same chick from highschool, and chances are that if you get some from her, you will also have a burning sensation everytime you pee. Bottom line, don't do anything with a girl that has a nickname like Blow Job Betty, or a similar nickname.

Vehicle of choice

I went back to Milwaukee this weekend and I had to drive around the Hispanic ghetto. Coincidentally the Hispanic ghetto is right next to the black ghetto and right above both the Hispanic and black ghetto is the Asian ghetto (surprise, surprise, do you think the government planned this?).

Anyway as I was driving trough this area I had stop and look at what these people were driving, it's funny but certain cars are associated with certain people. Let the stereotypes begin:

Puerto Ricans - They LOVE Toyota. I don't know why, but every PR I've known has or has owned a Toyota. Maybe Mr. Toyota married Ms. Diaz (I know 7 girls with this last name that aren't related so I picked this as the common PR last name). What ever the reason, you will not find a PR with out this car. If they can't find a suitable Toyota then Honda will do. The car is usually beat up and if it's new it's probably stolen.

Mexicans - Chevy is their first love and if this doesn't do it then Ford definitely does. Mexicans love American cars. You ask why? The reason for this is that American cars are BIG, and they need to pack every single family member in one car. There's a reason why Mexican travel in packs (in one car), it's most likely their immediate family, but in case their immediate family is small, they'll pack cousins and uncles if they have to. Just so they can fill the space of their Chevy (pronounced like the actor Chevy Chase). The car is old and if new then it's probably Stolen.

Blacks - Cadillac. Most of the time is a busted ass Cadillac. They like it because Cadillac is a luxury car and a busted ass Cadillac is a luxury as they'll get. They also like big cars so they can put "Big Mama" in it and all bebe's kids. And if the Cadi is new, it's probably stolen.

Asians - They stick to their own. They only drive Toyota, Honda, Kia and Nissan. They like these cars because their small, compact and fast. They don't need a big car because they're small and want to be able to see over the steering wheel. Asians have money so it's not surprising to see then driving a new car.

I gotta tell you, with the other races they have very seldom been in other cars, but I have never seen an Asian on anything else but an Asian car. If they want luxury then they go with Lexus or Infinity.

Jews - I don't know the reasons why, but whenever I drove through the predominately Jew neighborhood it was always a Lincoln (continental or LS) or a Mercedes Benz. I'll let Homer explain that on his blog. My guess is that since they're all doctors, lawyers or bankers, they can afford these rather expensive vehicles. And, if the car is old then they're not Jewish.

Rednecks - Only American. They wouldn't be rednecks if they drove anything else. It's usually a pickup truck and it's usually not newer than an '89. It usually has junk on the back, and it's stuff that at some point they will decorate their house with (or should I say trailer). They don't keep their cars new so, even if it's a "newer" model, it looks like shit because of the junk in the back.

How far is too far.

Aight. As I mentioned in the past I just started bloggin about two months ago. Prior to this I would make fun of Homer and freakinrican about it. I would call them nerds, PCG's (popcorn geeks, that is a geeky term on its own) and anything else I could think of.

I was then convinced by Homer that I should start one just for the hell of it. After much debating and peer pressure, I decided to enter the world of blogging.

I gotta tell you, it became addicting right off the bat. I really got into it after I had some people comment on my posts. Holy shit!! Others like what I have to say. A friend of mine once said "you gotta be full of yourself if you think others want to hear stories about a complete stranger and like them." My response to him was "don't hate nigga, cuz I know you gotta blog too and no one comments on yours." That is one of the meanest things you can say to a fellow blogger. Comments make this really worth it.

I often pressure others to comment, and I'll leave comments on other's blog just so they can comment on mine, or I'll even do something as desperate as tell them "good story, check my blog out and don't forget to comment." If that's not reaching out for help I don't know what is.

Anyway, where do you draw the line about blogging. The following story is, I think, where I would draw the line. Homer and freakinrican were at a party this past weekend. They drank, talked, flirted and laughed. All normal so far. They also went into a conversation about blogging. That did it for me. If I'm at a party I don't think I would talk about blogging. I would try to avoid it. It's one thing to say
me "did you see my new post"
other person "no"
me "check it out, you'll like it"
other person "ok"

and leave it at that, but to engage in a long conversation about it seems excessive.
The goldnugget is: learn where to draw the line. Homer and freakinrican are cool people, and something like this could damage their image. If you're in a room full of computer nerds then the conversation may be warranted. But if there's tons of hot chick around and the possibility of some play, refuse to drag yourself down that road.

I'm married and so is the rican, so I guess for us trying to get some play is out of the question, but I tell you this, I will not bring myself to where I'm so obsessed with this, that I would bring it to a party.

Many will tell me I'm wrong. That's cool and if your right is there a way to stop this madness called blogging? This is coming from the guy who repeatedly wants comments, comments and spends an hour each day hitting the button that says "next blog," in hopes to find some one like the nugget.

Stupid Hypothetical/Disturbing commercial

Here's another disturbing commercial. Have you guys watched the Mountain Dew commercial where the two friends are by a Dew machine and one of them turns around and clicks the alarm for his car and his friend says "why do you lock that thing?" He then clicks it again and he starts changing cars. He then turns to his friend and changes him to a hot chick.

This is the stupid hypo and disturbing part of the commercial. The chick is HOT not doubt about that. BUT who in their right mind would do anything with a chick that just moments ago was his friend. If that were me, everytime we had sex, I wouldn't think about the hot chick, I would think "damn this is nasty, this is my guy friend." At that point I don't think it would even get to sex. Maybe this is just me again, but think about it guys (I don't say girls because maybe girls wouldn't find it as disturbing if they knew the guy really is a girl, or maybe it's me that thinking "hey that chick is doing it with a chick, now that's hot").

But seriously people there has to be someone out there that feels the same way maybe freakinrican wouldn't because when it comes to that he would do it with anything that breathes (Sorry papi, I couldn't help it).

Someone out there, PLEASE ADVICE!!!

I was really tempted in putting another picture here, but I refrained from it because I don't want to take away the effect of the pic in the future.