<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112</id><updated>2011-10-04T17:34:51.705-06:00</updated><category term='West Valley Utah'/><category term='shoes'/><category term='lobster.'/><category term='Valley Fair Mall'/><category term='Murray Utah'/><category term='Fashion Place Mall'/><category term='Retro 11&apos;s'/><category term='Jordan&apos;s'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='food'/><category term='Eastbay'/><title type='text'>My take on sports and other stuff.</title><subtitle type='html'>My new attempt at sports writing.... and stuff</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8278749994136562849</id><published>2011-01-06T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T13:30:36.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its the most wonderful time of the Football Year!</title><content type='html'>Its that joyous time of the year again, playoff time people, and I am very excited to say that my Colts are playing for a chance to make it to the Superbowl once again. Lets hope that they don't squander their chances early in this 2nd half of the season. &lt;br /&gt;Its important to look at the whole picture before one starts making predictions (Colts vs Eagles is my pick) out and making a complete butt of themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The AFC has a bunch of teams that can scare the living poop out of anyone going against them, you have the once again incredible New England&amp;nbsp;Patriots who have only lost 2 games this whole season and may I point out that one of them was a shellacking by the Cleveland Browns, yes the sames Browns who finished 5-11.&amp;nbsp; The Pittsburgh Steelers are as always the defensive minded juggernaut who they always are and have shown to be for many years. After an awful off-season plagued by media scrutiny because of their QB's stupid decisions (who we hope are now behind him) finished the regular season with an outstanding 12-4 record. &lt;br /&gt;The Indianapolis Colts once again finish&amp;nbsp;the regular&amp;nbsp;season with a playoff appearance. The Manning era has been good to the Colts making them one of the most consistent offencive teams&amp;nbsp;in the league. This year was not as decorated or as rich as past years, mainly, due to the slimming down of the roster which was riddled&amp;nbsp;with injuries. Payton had to make something out of nothing almost all season long, passing to no names, and, in Manning fashion making all them look like rock stars. We will see if they can pull yet another upset as they did in similar fashion in the 2006 Superbowl run. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kansas City Chiefs, Baltimore Ravens and New York Jets round off the AFC teams who are trying to fight for top honors, and all of them are playing with a chip on their shoulders. The Jets as usual running their mouth claiming to be the best team in the NFL have something to prove. The Ravens like always bring it with their D, and the offense just hangs on just a bit longer to win close ones, in my opinion they look old and a bit worn, but hey this is the NFL and anything could happen. And at the bottom of the pile you have the Chiefs who with a loosing record last season have somehow rebounded to an impressive 10-6 record that mirrors the Colts record. This team can truly be the Cinderella story of the playoffs but they face the Ravens in the first Wild Card round and I don't think that their offense can truly hang with the Ravens seasoned D. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all I'm going with the Colts to take the Jets, the Ravens to beat the Chiefs thus giving us the Colts vs the Steelers and the Ravens vs the Patriots. From there I have the Colts getting their revenge on the Steelers once and for all, and the Patriots running over the Ravens, to give us the AFC Championship classic Colts vs Patriots. Once again these two Elite teams will be&amp;nbsp;going at it for&amp;nbsp;a chance to represent the AFC in the Superbowl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8278749994136562849?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8278749994136562849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8278749994136562849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8278749994136562849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8278749994136562849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-most-wonderful-time-of-football.html' title='Its the most wonderful time of the Football Year!'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2959519051477305048</id><published>2010-12-10T12:40:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T13:18:05.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JJR</title><content type='html'>This isn't goodbye, this isn't so long&lt;br /&gt;its an "Ill see you later," an "ill hold you again"&lt;br /&gt;the love of a father, the pain of a son&lt;br /&gt;the loss of a friend, the grieving within&lt;br /&gt;not able to speak, I'm at a loss for words&lt;br /&gt;its been some time now, just barley feeling the loss&lt;br /&gt;I got tatted for you, on my right arm I'm wearing a cross&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you so much, its hard to imagine&lt;br /&gt;that you wont see me grow, my kids you wont hold&lt;br /&gt;my wife you won't know, ill grow old without my old man to hold and to love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I was your little boy?&lt;br /&gt;your everything, your pride and joy?&lt;br /&gt;how often you held me, how often I cried&lt;br /&gt;how often you left me, how often you lied&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All is forgiven, all is behind&lt;br /&gt;all is well now, I have peace of mind&lt;br /&gt;The Lord took it from me, both the pain and the joy&lt;br /&gt;The Pain being the past, the Joy being you Dad&lt;br /&gt;I pray that my last gift to you was accepted&lt;br /&gt;taken and put to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ill see you again, Ill hold you once more&lt;br /&gt;But not yet, not yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2959519051477305048?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2959519051477305048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2959519051477305048' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2959519051477305048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2959519051477305048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2010/12/this-isnt-goodbye-this-isnt-so-long-its.html' title='JJR'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3484508645969905593</id><published>2010-11-23T13:12:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T13:10:03.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stranded and Grounded</title><content type='html'>From up here everything looks so small, its almost as if you can hold everything in eye sight in the palm of your hand. Its amazing how minuscule one can feel when you see everything around you, the majesty of this world is amazing and a bit much to take in at times. But at this moment I was just at ease because after waiting in a plain for 3 hours for it to take off I was grateful to be on my way home from what seemed like a nightmare situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see after being 5 minutes "late" for check in, we missed our flight home from our vacation in Orlando. We were instead put on a flight that was grounded for 3 whole hours due to thunderstorms, and while we waited we were tortured with the acting chops of Mr. Demi Moore himself. At times I was waiting for the crew members of his show "Punk'd" to show up with cameras as I reacted with amazement, shocked by the outlandish antics of Ashton's amazingly "creative" brain. But after the end credits of Valentines Day rolled I realized that Ashton wasn't going to Punk me today, maybe next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and her husband were going to pick us up from the airport now and at last I was able to relax a bit. I just liad my head back and rested my eyes for a bit, but my mind was racing, I couldn't stop thinking that something else was going to happen, but honestly what else can happen after something like this right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we landed in Atlanta, we learned that our next flight was boarding and we had to make our way from where were all the way across the airport, in length terms we had to run about half a mile dragging our bags, before realizing that the flight was going to leave us if we didn't speed things up. We stopped right in time to catch the subway that took us to the other side of the terminal. In there I was looking at the time realizing we only had a few minutes left. The tram came to a stop and we busted out of there, running as fast I could hauling all the bags and my wife running ahead of me with the tickets in hand trying to secure our spot in the plane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right in the nick of time we made our way to our gate with about 2 people in front of us. Again I was able to take a breath, and thank God for helping us so far, but to my surprise our struggles weren't over just yet. I got a call from my sister, with a bit of hesitation I answered the phone. She told me that they weren't going to be able to pick us up because her husband had to work in only a few hours (he worked the graveyard shift) so we, once again were up a creek without a paddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No longer caught off guard by bad news we were trying to wrap our head around this new problem that was in front of us. My wife called her sister to see if she could pick us up but her voice mail is all we got. I had no one else to call, every one of my siblings was dead asleep and not in a position to assist. As we finally landed in Salt Lake City, it was about 12:30 am now, we thought about taking a taxi back home. We made our way to the exit and asked a cab driver what the cost of a taxi would be from there to Pleasant Grove. The answer hit us hard, picture a deer caught in the headlights kind of look. "An estimate?" he asked "about 80 or 90 give or take" "Dollars?!" I answered with fright in my voice, and yes he meant dollars, pesos, dinero, cheese, cash flow, chedda, mula, bills, how ever you want to call it he meant just that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again defeated and baffled by our current dilemma, we asked ourselves what more can we do. I suggested renting a card but that would put us back money wise. Jenny called her sister one more time and this time she struck gold, she answered the phone, but to our disappointment she said she couldn't because she was with her boyfriend. With our options slimming down by the second I was getting very angry, I definitely wasn't thinking straight but as always my wife was the one with the brains. She took my phone and looked down the contact list and began to dial numbers. A few calls later she look up at me giving me the thumbs up signal. At last someone was coming through for us, but who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time was now 1:30 am and I was sitting down waiting and recapping the day's events. It was a bit soothing to think that after all that we had been through so far we were only 40 minutes away from home, no matter how dark and crappy it seemed it always got better. It was now 2 am and I got a call from our Knight in Shinning Armor. "Whats up Foo!" he said as I answered the phone and its s all I needed to hear to know who it was. My big loving father figure Andres, as loyal as any best friend could ever be, there he was with his wife. When no one was able or willing to pick us up we had to relay on a friend who was harder to get hold of than the president, but somehow he was here ready to take us home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally we were going home, after hours of uncertainty and frustration we were for sure going to make it to our warm and cozy bed. Talking to Andres about his lack of pick-up-the-phone-skills, he told us that he always leaves his phone on vibrate so that people wont bug him in the middle of the night, but for some reason this night he felt impressed to leave the ringer on, and by his bed. So when Jenny called him he picked up, which is not normal for him, and specially not that late at night. About 35 minutes later we were home, thanks to my gentle giant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3484508645969905593?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3484508645969905593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3484508645969905593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3484508645969905593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3484508645969905593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2010/11/stranded-and-grounded.html' title='Stranded and Grounded'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-6914292528130620816</id><published>2010-11-16T13:06:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T13:41:57.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>45 minutes before take off</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;There we were, enjoying a nice Cuban sandwich in Orlando Florida. Getting ready to go back home to Utah, back to the cold and crappy weather. It had been a great week, full of fun and joy with each other, and now it was on to the real world, no more Disney world, no more sandy beaches, no more sunny drenched days sweating just by doing nothing, oh no we were going back to our reality which was Pleasant Grove Utah and not Kissimmee Florida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our last day in paradise was nice, we got ready and packed. Checked out of our temporary home called the Ramada Inn, and on our way we were, ready to spend our last few hours here before boarding time came. We wanted to eat out one last time and enjoy this day as much as possible, so we drove around near the Airport's proximity to make sure we would be back just in time for our flight. We tussled around as to where to eat, and after a few failed attempts at eating in the fancy likes of TGI Fridays we settled for a Cuban restaurant called Mi Tierra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jenny chowed down that Cuban sandwich in matter of minutes with a bit of my help, and off we were to the airport. Our rental car a 2010 Nissan Cube was filled to the top when we got it and as it stated in the guidelines we needed to return it with the same amount of gas as when we first got it. On our way to the airport I noticed the the needle that read the amount of gas was slowly dipping bellow the F, so I drove to the nearest gas station. I topped it off and off we went again.&lt;br /&gt;I was a bit worried that we wouldn't make our flight but we still had plenty of time, or so I thought. We pulled up to the car garage of the Orlando International Airport and parked, grabbed our bags and bid farewell to our trusty white Cube. There we were hauling our bags through the huge masses of people piling all over getting ready to leave, some with tears and hugs others with "Ill see you later" goodbyes. Finally we got to our flight check in line, and just in time, with maybe a minute or two to spare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was our turn to check in, and I handed the guy behind the counter our itinerary and I loaded the bags on the scale. The guy looks up at us a and says "So are you guys running late?" to what I said "No were not, why do you say that?" "Well" he said with a tone one would only have right before bad news were about to be given, "there is no way you are going to make this flight."&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me?!" I said with a tone of disbelief "how is that possible? our flight is not leaving for another 30 minutes" to what he said "Well sir you are right but we still need to get these bags checked in and with the time frame that you have left us there is no way we can get you there in time, I'm sorry."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could not believe my ears, it was like the beginning of a bad family comedy movie, you know the kind that has the main characters stranded in an airport thousands of miles from their destination or home and they have to drive cross country and go through hell to get back. A few days later, and after several near death experiences that one would probably never encounter in their whole lifetime (like fighting a dear, or falling off a cliff in your car and only having the tiers and doors fall off like in "Are we there yet?") and more in love than before they left  because along the way they fight and hate one another, only to fall madly and deeply in love all over again because of all the "I almost lost you moments" they finally make it home with nothing but the clothes on their back with a bloody lip and torn and dirty shirts-kind of movie? well this was beginning to feel like the start of one of those movies, we were in for a long, long day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"its 45 minutes before take off sir. We ask all of our passengers to check in no later than 40 minutes before take off. Its posted all over the airport." "Does it look like we have been vacationing in the airport to you?" I barked back at him with the tone of frustration lingering in my voice. "We need to get in that plane, I don't care what we or you need to do, we need to get back home for work." There was a bit of desperation now and I was not happy and if I wasn't happy, my wife was furious. The guy behind the counter was typing like crazy, going back and forward, talking to people trying to get something worked out but it just wasn't working out. Finally he got his manager after several verbal threats made by my wife, but his manager had no better news for us than what the other guy had already told us. We weren't making that flight, and it was more obvious now that the time came for the flight to take off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There we were stranded in Orlando, needing to get back home. The manager did however work things out as to placing us in another flight, one that would leave in about an hour, but it would have to stop in Atlanta and then from there we would board another flight to Salt Lake. In all we would be getting home at about 11 pm that night when we should have been home around 6 pm. It was about 1 pm and after all the drama and frustration I finally got my wife to calm down. Sitting now waiting for the flight to board. We boarded the plane at about 2:30 pm and it was all over, we were heading home, well it seems that we were fooled once again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Siting in our seats, giving thanks that the nightmare was finally over, we held hands and tried to make the best of what was given. It was raining now, the summers in Orlando are wet and humid, giving way to the tropical storms or Hurricane seasons of the summer. "This is your captain speaking, welcome aboard, I have a bit of bad news" Oh no you don't, you just can't. "Seems like we are being grounded until further notice, lighting storms are keeping us here for a few folks, as soon as we have more information we will update you, thanks again for choosing us." I wasn't happy, this just kept getting worse, and to top it all off our ride wasn't going to be able to pick us up. My sister in law had committed to pick us up but now with the delay she wasn't going to be able to do it, so I called my sister and had her do it for us. "Ill call you as soon as we land in Atlanta" I said to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over and over we got the same lame news from our captain, we were to remain grounded until the weather cleared. To ease all of the angry passengers they gave drinks and peanuts away, as well as some infligh entertainment to delight our pupils they made us watch "Valentines Day" a romantic comedy that was mediocre at best, with a huge bill of stars. It was now about 5:30 pm, we had been sitting in the same spot for 3 hours, and finally it came, the news we were all praying for "we are clear for take off." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540242117268818546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/TOLk2il3SnI/AAAAAAAAATw/eor-9mQzAAQ/s320/Orlando-International-Airport-Security-Checkpoint-Florida.jpg" border="0" /&gt;To Be Continued.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-6914292528130620816?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/6914292528130620816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=6914292528130620816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/6914292528130620816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/6914292528130620816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2010/11/45-minutes-before-take-off.html' title='45 minutes before take off'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/TOLk2il3SnI/AAAAAAAAATw/eor-9mQzAAQ/s72-c/Orlando-International-Airport-Security-Checkpoint-Florida.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2900538892479090555</id><published>2010-11-02T14:19:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T13:43:13.810-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Big</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dreams:The succession of images, sounds &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a title="Image" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Sounds" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sounds"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;or emotions&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Emotions" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotions"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; that the mind&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a title="Mind" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mind"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; experiences during sleep.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When you hear the words "Dream Big" what comes to mind? My guess is that for most people this sparks thoughts of lots of money, a huge house and expensive toys. And why not? its totally normal to think of a lavish lifestyle. I would also dare to guess that most of us will never see that kind of life. Does that make us less than those who can live that way? No it does not. One can also make the argument that money doesn't determine happiness, or does it?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For many years I have been thinking about my future, and the older I get the harder it gets to come to terms that I might never have the McMansion, or the sports car of my dreams. But does this make me a lesser person? or does it diminish my accomplishments so far in life? again the answer is a big fat No.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My happiness is not determined by how much my bank account has, or how big my TV is, or how many shoes I have, but by what I have been able to accomplish so far in my life. Lately I can feel myself growing as a man, as a husband and future father. The choices I am making now are literally affecting the future of our unborn children. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You see in high school I was for the lack of a better word an Underachiever. Not because I was dumb or had some sort of learning disorder, but because I didn't care about my education. How could I? an illegal immigrant teenager, who as I put it best "will one day own the airways, and MTV's convented VMA award," care so much for an education. That just wasn't my cup of tea per say. High school was more of a popularity contest for me and my pals. When in class I was more worried about who I would bump in to in the hallway and what the girls would think of my outfit that day, I was more focused on things that did not matter one bit, but try to tell a teenager who's hormones are in full rage that School wasn't a place to hook up but a place to learn and get prepared for whats ahead of you. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Late in to my senior year I was falling behind and little by little the thought of graduating was slowly fading away, and not just for me but for many others in school. I guess I should have payed more attention in class, but it was too late now. I was passing the majority of my classes with low C's and high D's, and somehow (by the grace of God is my best guess) I was able to pass all my classes. I walked with my classmates, I was able to get a diploma, I was able to show my family that I wasn't a compete failure, and most of all I was able to show myself that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. Given that I didn't pass with honors but I passed none the less. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So now here we are, 9 years later and I am finally in good shape to start college, a long time, I know. But late is better than never right? I think I have found a career that makes me tick, something that actually gets me excited, not just something to do for the rest of my life, but something that I am mediocre at. If you haven't been following my blog then you probably have no Idea what makes me tickle inside, well that is a passion for writing. I honestly and truly think that I can have a career in journalism. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Is this my version of "Dream Big?" maybe, I just can't come to terms or grasp the fact that I can actually be good enough at something that I can get payed for and make a caereer from it, this sort of stuff dosen't happen to me and others like me, we usually end up working for a factory and or a call center (and not that those are bad jobs, any job is a good job, but its not something that you are trully sold on or happy doing, its something that gets you and your family through. This is not what I want, I want the oportunity to do something I love untill I retire. I am dreaming big, for once I can see my future as I want it, a family man with a great wife and amazing kids, doing what he loves, not just for himself but for them. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2900538892479090555?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2900538892479090555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2900538892479090555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2900538892479090555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2900538892479090555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2010/11/dream-big.html' title='Dream Big'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2509953358400655595</id><published>2010-05-03T14:12:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T11:44:54.372-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Battle for the J's II: Blood, Tears and Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/S-BTVx8WpbI/AAAAAAAAATY/xqv2jHGrtOU/s1600/RiccartonBlog1-3rvyntib.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467461581276620210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/S-BTVx8WpbI/AAAAAAAAATY/xqv2jHGrtOU/s320/RiccartonBlog1-3rvyntib.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After tasting defeat it took me a few hours to regain my composure, I was determined to get those shoes at any cost, even if that meant fighting for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday morning came and I was fast on my feet, driving on the I-15 with only one thought in mind, to be the first to own a pair of those beautiful shoes. I got to the mall at 6:00 am only to realize that I wasn't the only one there, I was one of many to be there ready to fight it out, ready to die for what I wanted and desired, my Retro 11's. I wasn't about to go down without a fight. Oh no, not this man. Not today baby! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"LETS GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!!!" &lt;/strong&gt;is all I heard in my head, I ran towards the crowded hallways of mad men fighting for a spot in line, only 12 pair and I was going to go home with a pair, oh yes I was! by golly I was ready to die. I caught one trying to body slam someone so I took him out with a chair I got from the food court, as this happened I felt the sting of a fist connecting to the back of my head, I dropped flat on my face, glass braking all around me, body's dropping like flies all around, blood stains all over the shiny Mall floor, I started to give up but something inside of me kept pushing me to get up. "&lt;strong&gt;Get up you fool, you are almost there, only 3 more hours and you will have them, GET UP&lt;/strong&gt;!" I felt renewed so I pushed my self to get up and as I was beginning to get back on my feet I took one on the Kisser, left hook, right hook, uppercut to the gut and I was flat out. So much for fighting for what I wanted, well maybe next time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;NOOOOOOO&lt;/strong&gt;!!!!!!" I woke up screaming, sweating and on the verge of tears. Oh my gosh it was only a dream! I looked at my phone and it was 5:50 am, I still had time to do this. I was fast on my feet, driving on the I-15 with only one thought in mind, to be the first to own a pair of those beautiful shoes, but this time no fighting. I drove up to the mall around 6:20 am and I walked in expecting an angry mob of people waiting, fighting each other for a spot but I was wrong, only 7 other people where there waiting. Some sleeping on the floor waiting for the doors to open. I quickly made friends with one of the guys there and we talked about life and Jordan shoes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soon enough the store opened its doors, only letting 2 people in at a time. I was next and I was able to get in and get my hands on those lovely white shoes. I never knew people went through so much to get shoes but I think its well worth the battle. It was a new experience that I would put myself through again. Talking to the first guy in line I realized how deep and committed these people are, he worked at this Foot Locker and the night before was his turn to stay late and close. After his shift was over he did what any Jordan hungry person would do. He stayed the night in the mall. He hid himself from the security guards inside the T-Mobile kiosk, waiting for that clock to display 6:00 am, and once it did he jumped up and lined up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The things people do for shoes, crazy people. I would never do that.... OK I would, sue me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2509953358400655595?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2509953358400655595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2509953358400655595' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2509953358400655595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2509953358400655595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-battle-for-js-ii-blood-tears-and.html' title='My Battle for the J&apos;s II: Blood, Tears and Dreams'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/S-BTVx8WpbI/AAAAAAAAATY/xqv2jHGrtOU/s72-c/RiccartonBlog1-3rvyntib.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8220641633386675042</id><published>2010-05-03T09:04:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T13:03:04.567-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='West Valley Utah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Murray Utah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Valley Fair Mall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shoes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fashion Place Mall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Retro 11&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jordan&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eastbay'/><title type='text'>My Battle for the J's</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/S97yOXg27MI/AAAAAAAAATQ/RgqAWtNnIh8/s1600/air-jordan-silver-anniversary-detailed-look-4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467073326318283970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/S97yOXg27MI/AAAAAAAAATQ/RgqAWtNnIh8/s320/air-jordan-silver-anniversary-detailed-look-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "&lt;strong&gt;One of our representatives will be with you in a moment&lt;/strong&gt;" Those are the dreaded words I was trying to avoid all night but somehow I found myself in that predicament and I could do nothing to change it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me take you back, way back. The year was 1996, Tupac was still the King of Rap but his murder was close at hand. The Dallas Cowboys beat the Steelers to win their 5Th Superbowl, and the Chicago Bulls defeated the Seattle Supersonics in the NBA Finals. This is the year I feel in love.... the memory of that shoe is still crisp in my mind, its shiny patent leather mid and toe box was just breath taking. The Air Jordan 11's where the thing of legends, not even the Barkley's came close to these baby's. Everyone I knew was sporting these shoes as soon as they became available, everyone except me. I remember walking around school and thinking "&lt;strong&gt;Man I wish we had the money to get them&lt;/strong&gt;" but the truth was that those shoes where way out of our price budget, so Hand-Me-Downs would have to do, that or Payless shoes or better yet salvation army.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK flash forward to present time, as I stated before, the Jordan 11's became the stuff of legend and are now one of the most sought after shoes out there, but like Disney classics they are only released every now and then, and after they sell out they are locked away for a long time. Its like seeing a Unicorn, trying to find these shoes in stores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday of last week I was browsing through my facebook account and I noticed something that made me stop abruptly what I was doing. In Bold letters their post read "&lt;strong&gt;Who's going to cop their 11 Retro's this Saturday May 1st?&lt;/strong&gt;" I almost pooped myself when I saw that pots along with a picture of the shoe I have wanted since I was 13 years old. I had recently told my wife that if they ever re-released that shoe, I would go in debt for them and I wasn't kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday they would be released online and through Eastbay, right at 12:00 am EST so 10:00 pm my time, not a minute early. The actual shoe would be available at only 2 stores in Utah, the Foot Locker at the Valley Fair Mall in West Valley and at the Fashion Place Mall in Murray, and each store only had 12 pairs each, one of each size, from 8 to 13. Lovely! Here was the chance to fulfill one of my childhood dreams and yet it felt so far of a chance to achieve that it made me sad. I decided that I was going to call Eastbay and order my shoe that way, because I was not about to go fight for a spot at a mall waiting for hours before they opened the doors..... right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 30Th 2010, 9:55 pm: I was on the phone waiting to talk to a customer service rep for Eastbay, credit card on hand ready to go, I had my game face on and there was nothing going to stop me form getting this shoe, NOTHING!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 30Th 2010, 10:00 pm: I was still on hold listening to that annoying recorded message "&lt;strong&gt;One of our representatives will be with you in a moment&lt;/strong&gt;" and my hands where sweating with anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 30Th 2010, 10:10 pm: I was still on hold, the phone was hot now from being held so tight to my ear, just waiting for that Darn rep to answer the call, but nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 30Th 2010, 10:13 pm: "&lt;strong&gt;Thank you for calling Eastbay this is&lt;/strong&gt; (I don't remember her name so lets call her Tiff) &lt;strong&gt;Tiff how can I help you?&lt;/strong&gt;" with excitement I said "&lt;strong&gt;I need to place an order please&lt;/strong&gt;!" I was just thrilled that I was about the get the most import shoe I would ever own, "&lt;strong&gt;OK, can I please get the product number of the item sir" &lt;/strong&gt;to what I said with a confident tone "&lt;strong&gt;Why sure&lt;/strong&gt;" after I gave her the number she said the following "&lt;strong&gt;I'm sorry, sir but that item is completely sold out&lt;/strong&gt;" WHAT?!!! you can't do this to me, you just can't!!!! Why?!!! with a deflated tone I responded "&lt;strong&gt;Are you serious?&lt;/strong&gt;" to what she said "&lt;strong&gt;Yes sir I am.&lt;/strong&gt;" I just ended the call, I couldn't take the disappointment, and the pain it caused me to hear those words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What to do? should I go to the mall at 6 am to see if I can get a pair? No! that's dumb, I don't do that kind of thing, but this was different, this was for the Retro 11's. I should do this! right?.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To Be Continued......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8220641633386675042?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8220641633386675042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8220641633386675042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8220641633386675042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8220641633386675042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-battle-for-js.html' title='My Battle for the J&apos;s'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/S97yOXg27MI/AAAAAAAAATQ/RgqAWtNnIh8/s72-c/air-jordan-silver-anniversary-detailed-look-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3641703254844182383</id><published>2010-04-14T14:13:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T13:35:59.441-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Taco Wars: The Evil HIM</title><content type='html'>My wife had been craving Mexican food, and around the corner of the Provo Mall there is a new place called &lt;strong&gt;Taco Riendo&lt;/strong&gt; (laughing Taco... yeah I don't get it either), we had been there once before and fell in love with the food there. Big portions, real good taste and the customer service was good, no complaints. But all that was about to change in a big way. We get there and order, my wife got the same plate she had last time, The Carne Asada Platter which comes with rice, beans, tortillas, guacamole and some sour cream and lettuce to make tacos with. I had the Asada Quesadilla and 2 tacos, the total damage was at about 18 dollars. Not bad for all the food we were about to take down right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;After a few we get our food and my wife just stares at her plate in disappointment and anger. She gets up and goes to talk to the cashier about it and she is told "Ill let HIM know." She comes back and sits down a bit irritated, to this point I haven't really noticed what the big deal is, until she pointed it out. The piece of Asada (Asada is a type of meat, for all my White Folks) is supposed to be big, and fresh, instead she got 3 pieces of old crusty looking meat. About a hand full of Beans with cheese on them and the same size portion of rice, and a mountain of Lettuce and Guacamole. My girl wasn't having it, not one bit so she needed me to take care of it. With hunger still there and a bit of a head ache I get up to talk to the cashier. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She looks at me and says "I will let HIM know," Him who?, who is this HIM she keeps mentioning? I ask for a manager, to what she said "I am the manager but don't worry the owner is here, Ill let HIM know (ahhh so that's who HIM is) and Ill come back." I was pleased with that expecting the owner to come back to talk to us and make us happy right? right?........&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The young lady comes back to our table and informs us that the Owner (HIM) told her to tell us that these are the portions they are giving out now, the reason we had such big portions last time was because the old cook was giving out bigger portions, so In other words we got lucky last time. At this point I wasn't having it, I was angry so asked the young lady to have HIM come back and talk to us. About a minute passed and here HIM comes....... I was ready for a duel.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The following is a reenactment of what took place that fateful night at Taco Riendo (this whole conversation was in Spanish):&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HIM:&lt;/strong&gt; How can I help you?                                                                                                                   &lt;strong&gt;ME:&lt;/strong&gt; My wife and I came here before and had the same platter and it was way bigger last time and the meat was fresh, this one isn't.                                                                                               &lt;strong&gt;HIM:&lt;/strong&gt; Well the reason is because our old cook was giving out way too big of portions and she is no longer here, now I'm in the back making sure all is well portioned.                                          &lt;strong&gt;ME:&lt;/strong&gt; Well we just payed 10 dollars for this plate and I honestly do not think that this amount and quality of meat is worth that much money, she has more lettuce than anything man!            &lt;strong&gt;HIM: &lt;/strong&gt;Well if you go somewhere else they are charging you about 13 dollars for that same plate, plus I pay about 3 dollars and 90 cents per lbs for the meat, that's not good for me to do, to just give away huge portions of food.                                                                                                          &lt;strong&gt;ME: &lt;/strong&gt;Well I didn't go elsewhere, I came here and I need you to do something about this plate.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HIM: &lt;/strong&gt;What would you like me to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ME: &lt;/strong&gt;I need a new plate for my wife, more meat and rice and beans, less toppings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HIM: &lt;/strong&gt;Well if you want a new plate your going to have to pay for it.                                               (Time out.... can you believe the nerve on this fool?! OK Continue) &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ME: &lt;/strong&gt;I'm not paying for another plate man, and I'm also not going to have my wife eat this crap, I need another plate of food for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HIM: &lt;/strong&gt;And what am I supposed to do with this food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ME: &lt;/strong&gt;I don't care!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HIM: &lt;/strong&gt;I can't do that, you need to pay for another plate then.                                                           &lt;strong&gt;ME: &lt;/strong&gt;I'm not doing that! either that or I need my money back! (He looked at me with a long frustrated pause, he inhaled)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HIM: &lt;/strong&gt;OK, give them their money back&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He stormed to the back to continue riping people off with small portions of dry old meat. We didn't even touch our food, I was shaking from anger. We walk up to the cashier and got our cash back. Before I left I noticed everyone there was looking at us, I told the cashier "This is horrible customer service, we are not coming back. Tell HIM I said that." Taco Bell was where we ended up eating that night, and as my brother said: "&lt;strong&gt;A&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Cheaper and Better Meal&lt;/strong&gt;" He was right.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3641703254844182383?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3641703254844182383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3641703254844182383' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3641703254844182383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3641703254844182383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2010/04/taco-wars-evil-him.html' title='Taco Wars: The Evil HIM'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-7783708553172824560</id><published>2009-12-31T12:46:00.009-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T14:27:58.229-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shoes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lobster.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The Lobster Tale II: The Search for Food</title><content type='html'>Hello fellow followers, (Maggie) the last time you were here you learned a&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sz0Ej69zn5I/AAAAAAAAASw/NtfzYwKeKK4/s1600-h/snowbird_logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421494541594369938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 104px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sz0Ej69zn5I/AAAAAAAAASw/NtfzYwKeKK4/s200/snowbird_logo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;bout the dreaded horse back riding at the Sandy Utah Ski resort that shall not be named -----------&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well these are the events that follow, and now without further ado I give you &lt;strong&gt;The Lobster Tale II: The Search for Food&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I can't believe they did that!, the nerve of that lady!" my wife was spiting out with a bit of anger, I promise I think I saw fumes coming out of her ears. Well I was very upset myself but I had to stay calm so that she would calm down as well, we swore never to do that again, and if you are reading this DON'T EVER GO HORSE BACK RIDING AT THE SKI RESORT THAT SHALL GO UNNAMED (snowbird)&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;EVER!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We tried to get that lady in trouble but it turns out that she was the owner of the Horse Trail thing which is not part of the resort, she rented a spot there so we had no manager to complain to. Well on to the second part of the day. I wanted to get my wife some shoes that she had been asking for and so the new quest began, we had to find a bank to withdrawal more money for the shoes and food. So when we Finlay found the bank I got out to make the transaction from the ATM inside. I was so stressed out about the early events that I took the money from the ATM without realizing that I had taken it out from Checking and not Savings which is where we had the money. So this means that I left our account at about $20.00, freaking out after I realized what I had done I ran outside and told my wife what I had just did, she calmly told me "Don't worry baby, just call them and have them transfer the money over the phone from savings in to checking." This i did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were on our way to forget about horses and Ski Resorts, looking for shoes was our new quest. This had to be less stress right? well we get to the Gateway in Salt Lake City and we searched all the shoe stores there and found ZERO shoes that were of my wife's liking. So on to the nearest mall it was. We drove back down to Murray to go to the fashion place (This is a mall there) and for once we were having fun, we were trying to make the best of what had gone down that day and we were trying to forget the bad and get on with the good. We found the shoes she wanted, and on top of that she bought me my Madden 2010 as it is our tradition every year. Life was sweet again right? right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For dinner Jenny wanted Red Lobster because she had never tasted Lobster, so our new quest was to find a Red Lobster near where we were. So on to find the food, I map quested the nearest Red Lobster on my iPhone and it looked like there was one in Sandy which wasn't that far from where we were, so we drove down to Sandy. When we get there to our surprise we could not find this place for the life of us. We called and no answer, we drove around for a good 30 minutes looking for this blasted place and nothing. We asked around and nothing, turns out that Red Lobster had closed down about a month or two before, on top of that we actually missed a Red Lobster that was right across the street from The Fashion Place Mall where we got the Shoes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jenny and I were so drained from the events we just decided to eat at Mcgrath's fish house that was right there, but as soon as we walked in Jenny changed her mind. So we hoped in our car and headed back home. I was determined to get my wife some Red Lobster if that meant I had to drive for hours, by golly I was going to have some sort of success today! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On our way home Jenny was so down that she just said "Babe lets just go home, its late" and that totally put me in a crappier mood than the one I was on already. So I said "Fine then!" Defeated and tiered I drove, quiet and dark was the mood that hung over us. Jenny looking out the window, I'm sure allot was going through her mind but for me this day, a day I had been planning for months was slowly slipping away as a failure, a complete disaster. How do you go from A to Z so fast? how did this day turn out to be so crappy? It was supposed to be one of the best Birthdays for my Jenny ever, but somehow it turned out to be one of the worst, of that I was sure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was about to turn my blinkers to take our exit and Jenny came back to life, she said "You know what, lets go to Red Lobster in Orem. This is OUR DAY and it is going to go OUR WAY." giving me a smile that was half forced and half real. "You sure about that?" I said back to her, "We can just go home" "No I want to eat lobster" and so I dove us to Red Lobster. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421507710898659266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 92px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sz0Qiecn38I/AAAAAAAAAS4/ZsylrNkX11I/s200/logo_Red_Lobster_3D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;There it was shinning in red and blue making contrast against the dark sky. My eyes were droopy but as soon as we started walking in, our moods became more cheery, as if the whole day had been a success. Jenny had her lobster and shrimp and I had stake and lobster, the mood in there was so mellow and lay back, the music making a great contrast with the dimmed lights. The tranquil feel that overcame us was great. "I'm so sorry this day turned out to be so crappy baby, I didn't see it this way at all" I said to my wife as my eyes watered up in defeat. I hated the feeling that she didn't enjoy her time as I wished she would, it was overpowering me and she was able to tell. She grabbed my hands and looked me deep in the eyes "Baby don't you ever be sorry, this was a great birthday. The fact that you went through all that to make me happy is all that truly matters to me. You know me, I don't need big and loud to be happy. I am just as happy with small and sweet. But I thank you for all of this, I love you." her eyes were watering as well. There we sat listening to the music that was playing in the restaurant, eating and enjoying what was left of this &lt;strong&gt;Great Birthday&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;p&gt;The moral of the story is this: In order to make those you love happy, you don't always have to go all out, you don't have to go above and beyond to bring a smile to their faces. Simple and sweet will do just fine. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421511768531277986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sz0UOqToGKI/AAAAAAAAATI/tjDCZy4_JvU/s320/j.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421511696776196482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sz0UKe_4cYI/AAAAAAAAATA/GwogcpG2jzE/s320/d.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;THE END&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-7783708553172824560?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/7783708553172824560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=7783708553172824560' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/7783708553172824560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/7783708553172824560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/12/lobster-tale-ii-search-for-food.html' title='The Lobster Tale II: The Search for Food'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sz0Ej69zn5I/AAAAAAAAASw/NtfzYwKeKK4/s72-c/snowbird_logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-5284122678333046139</id><published>2009-12-30T06:25:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T08:44:56.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lobster Tale</title><content type='html'>How can you make the best from what so far has seemed like one of the worst Birthdays ever? Well this is &lt;strong&gt;The Lobster Tale&lt;/strong&gt;, a story of Epic proportions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me take you back before the day took a turn for the worst. It was a sunny Saturday, September 5Th if I'm not mistaken. This wasn't an ordinary Saturday though, oh no this was the Saturday after my wife's birthday and as always I was going to try and make it as special as possible, even if that meant death!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Horses are beautiful creatures meant for us Humans to use for travel, in the old days that was the only means of transportation and so it went. Now thanks to technology and modern advancements we have cars, bikes and motorcycles so the use of horses is not as popular as it once was, thank goodness. I am one of those people who would rather walk 500 miles than ride a horse, the reason behind this is too long to recount and may one day make for a good story so I will leave it as that. The only kind of horse I like is Horse Power in a car, and the only Pony I will ride is a Ford Mustang, and the only kind of Horse I cheer for is The Indianapolis Colts! and the only Horse that..... you get the point. "&lt;strong&gt;The horse pretty from far&lt;/strong&gt;" the wise man once said. But my wife is one of those "I will ride a horse without a saddle" kind of gal, so you see my predicament here? Well me being the greatest husband ever, I decided to take my wife Horse back Riding for her birthday, and as always instead of making things nice and small I want this to be a Horse Back riding experience she will never forget. I was just about to get my wish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made an appointment for this event about 4 months in advance so as not to leave it for &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Szt1CCGKAOI/AAAAAAAAASo/Dak3BEffub4/s1600-h/snowbird_logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421055254253404386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Szt1CCGKAOI/AAAAAAAAASo/Dak3BEffub4/s200/snowbird_logo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the last minute. I booked a 2 hour trail at a Snow Ski resort in Sandy Utah that will go unnamed, the appointment was for 3 p.m. and we were to be there one hour early so that we could take the tram up the mountain and take the Rhino (this is a 4 wheel mode of transportation) down the other side of the mountain to where the horses were. Well for one reason or another there I was, booking it down the 15 to make it in time. The speed limit signs just kept whooshing past me, I pushed that Nissan to its limit, taking the side winding road like a champ! not stopping for no one. That is until I got stuck behind a slow driver, I was already pushing it kind of close, it was about 1:45 and I had 15 minutes to get there. I called the lady whom I had been in touch with about this whole thing to tell her we were in our way. When I finally get there we have to park about a mile away from the entrance because the October fest was going on. So had to walk from our car to where the Bus was, and then ride it to the entrance, from the entrance we had to go up the stairs to make it to the second level. My watch now read 2:00 p.m. and I was freaking out, it would have been OK if they weren't holding the charge on my debit card just in case. We run to the office where you pay for the horse trails, and up to this point I had not thought about transferring the money from savings to checking and of course I have to do it right on the spot. When the lady told us the total my wife almost pooped her self, she did not know what this was all about until we got there and she was in shock, not because of the amazing trouble I went through to get there but because of the $230.00 charge that I was about to OK. But hey it was her birthday and I was going to spoil her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The tram was about to leave and I was still on hold for the funds to be transferred so the lady already on edge told me, just leave your card here and pay when you get back. We run to the tram and cram in with all the people who were there to sight see and to do other numerous activities. Jenny was quiet and a bit out of it, when I asked what the problem was she said nothing looking around at the beauty the altitude of the tram had to offer. I was not buying it, not one bit. So I asked again to what she said that she was shocked at how much we were about to spend for a horse back trail. I reassured her and I just told her to make the best of it. So that we did. We rode down the mountain on the other side with the resort guide, when we get there it begins to be a bit cloudy, there was another couple with us along for the trip. We get to were the horses are and we are in awe, staring at the majesty that a horse radiates with. We go through a tutorial and get on our horses. Now it gets fun, no more stress but rather relaxing thoughts are flowing through such as "Don't you dare throw me off you Blasted beast!" or "I hate your guts and if you hurt me Ill make sure you are turned in to glue" you know calm peaceful thoughts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had been on the road for what seemed like an eternity and I was ready to leave, when I look at my watch it only has been 15 minutes. Then I feel a water drop on my face, then another and another and all the sudden it all comes down on us. We take cover for a few and the guides radio in to the command center, the voice on the radio brakes in saying that the forecast is stating thunder storms so they gave us 2 options, we can wait it out and continue or go back, so my wife and I choose to go back and the other couple chooses to stay. We are told by both guides that they wont charge us for the whole thing if they charge us at all. So back up the mountain we go, then boarding the tram for the ride down to the resort. We are in a way better mood now, we got to ride for a bit, I wasn't killed and my wife got that ridding bug off her back for the time being. We stroll in the office and the lady that had booked the trip was there waiting for us, we stand there to hear how much she was going to charge us and what came next was more of a shocker than the first outcome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm going to charge you for a full hour" was her statement to us, my wife and I were stunned, "An hour?" my wife shot back at her "We were only on the horses for about 15 minutes Lady, and you are charging us for an hour trip?!" oh yeah it was about to get ugly. "Well you guys took the tram up and down as well as the ride to and from the horses" was the best she could do. "Well I didn't know we were paying for a tram ride,I thought this was a Horse Back Riding trip" was what my wife said next. The lady was rude to us from the go and her statements were flat out stupid. "I had to cancel my 4 o'clock so that you guys could ride, it is clear now and the guides and the other couple are on the trail as we speak" she said "Well the guides told us that we were going to stop and left it up to us to wait it out or go back, so I think that you two have to talk and get your stories straight" my wife said back to her, I was getting mad, and up to that point I had said nothing but her rant about how she canceled on her 4 o'clock and how she should be charging us more pissed me off. "Look lady!" I said with force "I am not asking for a free ride at all, I am willing to pay and if you think that 1 hour is fair than fine, but first you don't need to talk to my wife the way you have been, your tone has been rude the whole time and not professional at all, and second we only rode for about 15 minutes and this is not fair at all but OK here is my debit card!" she took it and charged it, we started walking away and my wife yells at her "NOT PROFESSIONAL AT ALL, YOUR CUSTOMER SERVICE IS HORRIBLE!" I just grabbed her and walked out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What can possibly top this story? well you haven't heard the whole thing yet....... TO BE CONTINUED.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-5284122678333046139?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/5284122678333046139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=5284122678333046139' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5284122678333046139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5284122678333046139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/12/lobster-tale.html' title='The Lobster Tale'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Szt1CCGKAOI/AAAAAAAAASo/Dak3BEffub4/s72-c/snowbird_logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-5885811446104686959</id><published>2009-12-29T06:38:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T06:41:13.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Serch for self.</title><content type='html'>It's been a few moons since I posted anything. The Colts went 14-0 untill last Sunday, Christmas is over with and I am a few presents richer, and I'm still at work at 6 am........ I'm looking for a Good topic to write about and as soon as I find it you will know about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-5885811446104686959?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/5885811446104686959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=5885811446104686959' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5885811446104686959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5885811446104686959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-been-few-moons-since-i-posted.html' title='Serch for self.'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8561668111327851275</id><published>2009-08-18T23:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T23:56:44.334-06:00</updated><title type='text'>NuMeRO FOuR</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SouTtFSJ1TI/AAAAAAAAASY/H1APQTsACsY/s1600-h/9955062.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 406px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SouTtFSJ1TI/AAAAAAAAASY/H1APQTsACsY/s320/9955062.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371549383291163954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wow! its been a few moons hasn't it? well dear people of the world, I just have a few words to say. Brett Favre! what the hell is he doing!?&lt;br /&gt;I find myself a bit at odds, in one hand I am a Favre lover and in the other I think this "I'm done, no wait I'm not, no wait I am, oh OK I lied I am not done" is getting a little old. But hey the man is a genius, or is he just nuts? sometimes he has flashes of pure brilliance and then there are times that he just plain and flat out stinks. But this is also part of that amazing Favre we all have grown up with and learned to love. No matter what happens I will be there watching him like a hawk and I hope that with an actual team around him he will be able to CRUSH the Packers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8561668111327851275?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8561668111327851275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8561668111327851275' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8561668111327851275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8561668111327851275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/08/numero-four.html' title='NuMeRO FOuR'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SouTtFSJ1TI/AAAAAAAAASY/H1APQTsACsY/s72-c/9955062.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-6659186861324470803</id><published>2009-06-26T12:58:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T17:12:20.186-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The star that fell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;The many faces of Michael Jackson. His Moonwalk dance at the &lt;strong&gt;Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, Forever &lt;/strong&gt;special. His glove covered in crystals. His aviator glasses. These are all the things that made him the Icon that he is now. As of lately its been a bumpy ride for the King of Pop but it has finally all come to a tragic and sudden end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351764226260581346" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 79px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SkVJNXvnu-I/AAAAAAAAASI/x2-aF5nvA80/s400/mj.bmp" border="0" /&gt;I was sitting at work just counting the minutes down for me to clock out and as usual I was browsing the net, when I click on the MSN homepage and a picture of a Feminine looking Michael caught my attention, the column read &lt;strong&gt;"Hospitalized Michael Jackson rushed to facility in Los Angeles." &lt;/strong&gt;So out of curiosity I clicked on the link.... my heart dropped as soon as the page changed, the news broke in a blink of an eye &lt;strong&gt;"Pop star Michael Jackson is dead at 50"&lt;/strong&gt; all the sudden my mind took a trip down memory lane, all the countless hours listening to Thriller as a child, Th&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SkU4-9yJm_I/AAAAAAAAASA/qOTlb69Spxc/s1600-h/Smooth_criminal_video.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351746386587655154" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 276px; height: 320px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SkU4-9yJm_I/AAAAAAAAASA/qOTlb69Spxc/s320/Smooth_criminal_video.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;e amount of time I took to learn the Moonwalk, the look of frustration in my parents faces because I would not stop bugging them about getting a white suit with a matching fedora, a blue collar shirt with a white tie and the white spats to cover my shoes, and then doing the dance and falling flat on my face after trying the &lt;strong&gt;Anti-gravity lean. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a sad day for many people, the news were shocking, even drowning out &lt;strong&gt;Farrah Fawcwett's&lt;/strong&gt; death news. This is my generations &lt;strong&gt;John Lennon&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;Elvis Presley's &lt;/strong&gt;death, you will for the rest of your life remember where you were and what you were doing the day &lt;strong&gt;Michael Jackson &lt;/strong&gt;died. Whoever you are, like him or hate him, the man had talent, amazing dance moves, great love for his children, and who are we to judge? If he did the things they accused him of, then he will pay for it. But if he didn't then we judged a man unjustly. What ever the case may be he is gone now and maybe one day we shall know the truth about Michael's true nature with kids. In my mind he will always be that amazing singer who was a massive part of my childhood, growing up listening to his music in the 80's in Mexico City. May he be remembered as the man he once was, before all the media scrutiny he was put through tarnished his image. This is how I remember him, my favoryte face of his if you will.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351768624688013394" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 389px; height: 119px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SkVNNZKcIFI/AAAAAAAAASQ/UEVKZUKel3Q/s400/f0e066a6-b78b-4a50-8cfd-9ad6bdf822a9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                                                          &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Michael Jackson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                                                                                  1958-2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                                                          &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-6659186861324470803?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/6659186861324470803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=6659186861324470803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/6659186861324470803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/6659186861324470803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/06/many-faces-of-michael-jackson.html' title='The star that fell'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SkVJNXvnu-I/AAAAAAAAASI/x2-aF5nvA80/s72-c/mj.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-7183191665934985653</id><published>2009-05-27T18:45:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T20:25:09.620-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerdtacular III: The Wrath of the Über Nerd (Part I)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Commentator's voice: &lt;/span&gt;Welcome back faithful readers. In the last installment our hero, the humble, the great, the good looking, the handsome, the powerful, the magnificent, the acrobatic, the giving, the merciful, the enigma, the potato, the fish, the sock, I love lamp..... wait I'm rambling, Hem! sorry about that. Now where was I?.. oh yeah, our hero &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;David, the Brave Mexican&lt;/span&gt; was in deep poo as he was captured by the Nerds who work for the &lt;b&gt;Über &lt;/b&gt;Nerd. Will this be the last we ever see of our hero as a normal person?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Captains log: &lt;/span&gt;I don't know how I got to this point but it feels right, the knowledge of all the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WOW &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;(that's the acronym for World of Warcraft)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;levels available to Men, the lour of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dungeons and Dragons&lt;/span&gt;, the enigma which is the love affair that one can have with trading cards, the many lost hours one can spend online playing with people I can't even see and probably will never meet..... wait this is not where..... I'm missing something, where did my desire for a normal life go? I love physical activity, I love sports, don't I?. This is all happening so fast, I'm chained up in what looks like a basement with rusty pipes all over the sealing, the smell of mildew and stale pizza is suffocating. I feel my hands thirst for blood circulation, it's hard to move, what happened? I try to move my arm's and they are suspended above my head, It looks like I'm handcuffed. Ah! my head, it aches reminiscing of a night of heavy drinking, I feel a bit dizzy and I'm having trouble focusing my eye sight.  Drip... Drip.... Drip is all I hear, the beat of a single droplet of water obeying the law of gravity on its way down to meet its doom upon hitting the ground which has collected enough drops that a puddle of water has gathered. All the sudden I hear foot steps and laughter, the &lt;b&gt;Über Nerd!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Über Nerd&lt;/b&gt;: Hello David, its been a good battle, but all must come to an end sometime. And now it's your turn to come to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David: &lt;/span&gt;Well well well I see that time has not been kind to you &lt;b&gt;Über, &lt;/b&gt;or is that the lack of sun and motion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Über Nerd: &lt;/b&gt;Funny, I see you haven't lost your sense of humor. I'm glad because you will loose the rest of what makes you, you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David: &lt;/span&gt;What do you mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Über Nerd: &lt;/b&gt;Oh my Nerds didn't tell you? I completely re arranged your thoughts soon enough you will be one of us! hahahahah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David: &lt;/span&gt;Holy Crap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Über Nerd: &lt;/b&gt;Yes I know what you are thinking, "No I don't want to be a Nerd, you guys are a bunch of girls who never date and if you do then its all done online" and maybe that's true but its great!, think about it man, just think about it. You could be my right hand Nerd, the pack leader. Ah, what do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David:&lt;/span&gt; Never! I will fight this to the end, you hear me! to the END!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Über Nerd: &lt;/b&gt;Then so be it!. NERDS! make sure he doesn't go anywhere, I want him ready to serve as soon as I comeback, its almost 8, my mom needs me to clean my room and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Babygotback09&lt;/span&gt; is waiting for our Cyber date. Wish me luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nerd 1: &lt;/span&gt;Good luck Scott!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nerd 2: &lt;/span&gt;Yeah good luck Scott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Über Nerd: &lt;/b&gt;Idiots I told you not to call me that! its Boss when we are around guest. Gosh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And off he went, up the stairs to his room. Now if I can only mustard the strength to get rid of these Nerds and get myself free, there must be some sort of way I can reverse this spell. I got it! his &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dungeons and Dragons &lt;/span&gt;play night dates, they must know how to reverse this. The Nerds are off to themselves playing Pokemon, I must brake loose, this is the time, I won't have a better chance. I start to yank on the pipe that I'm handcuffed to and I notice it's starts to budge a little bit, so I make sure the Nerds don't notice... I'm clear. I tug once more and it rattles more, I feel it coming down, the Nerds are fully aware now, they start to make their way towards me and I, in a panic yank the whole pipe down with me, as it comes down It takes one of the Nerds down splashing the other one with a stream of water. The basement starts to flood, with water up to my ankles I run up to the other Nerd before he is able to get up and I kick him right on the gut, he lets out a noise that resembles a Yelp from a Chihuahua. I pay no attention to it and&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sh3yg1xymBI/AAAAAAAAARQ/ZQ0Jw_QTbzk/s1600-h/IMG_2839.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sh3yg1xymBI/AAAAAAAAARQ/ZQ0Jw_QTbzk/s200/IMG_2839.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340691379136927762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I make sure they aren't getting back up. I take the key from his pocket and undo the handcuffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I run up the stairs and I'm getting closer to madness, I feel weak, my limbs start to fluctuate from muscle to fat and back to muscle, my face starts to hurt as pimples begin to surface, my vision is getting blurry, I must hurry and escape this place before It consumes me whole. As I make my way to the door I see a battalion of Nerds, the&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sh3yxayfMWI/AAAAAAAAARY/qAEzfa8eopg/s1600-h/IMG_2851.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sh3yxayfMWI/AAAAAAAAARY/qAEzfa8eopg/s200/IMG_2851.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340691663949869410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;y are everywhere, this is not going to be easy. I start making my way through the ranks of Nerds, knocking 2 to 3 at a time, 1-2 1-2 combos, chin kicks, kidney punches, I'm laying them down, my rage is strong, my adrenaline is pumping and I come to the end of the line... I'm beat, I'm not myself, I feel like my knees are about to give out on me. Just as I feel like I'm home free I see the &lt;b&gt;Über Henchman&lt;/b&gt;, He is a menacing figure ready to tango, I take one last sip of breath and we engage in battle!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;To Be Continued......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-7183191665934985653?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/7183191665934985653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=7183191665934985653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/7183191665934985653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/7183191665934985653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/05/nerdtacular-iii-wrath-of-uber-nerd-part.html' title='Nerdtacular III: The Wrath of the Über Nerd (Part I)'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sh3yg1xymBI/AAAAAAAAARQ/ZQ0Jw_QTbzk/s72-c/IMG_2839.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-4729377928959157558</id><published>2009-05-18T21:57:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T10:42:34.546-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerdtacular: Part Deux</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Commentators voice: &lt;/span&gt;Our hero is trapped, the nerds are all around him, how on earth will he escape this?!?, please keep calm, he is an expert at evading NERDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Captains log:&lt;/strong&gt; The last time we talked I was surrounded by nerds, I had just taken them down and the Über Nerd was slowly approaching me, with a look of hate, terror and pain. I was getting ready to battle one last time but the movie started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the movie ends and the lights come back on, &lt;strong&gt;An amazing movie it was&lt;/strong&gt; (Wait, did I just say that with a Yoda accent? Oh my!) The nerd force is strong, I can feel my thoughts ramble, all my love for Sports and physical activity is slowly turning to hate and loath, this is not happening!..... must.... fight..... the force!. I notice the Über Ned's hand is pointing straight at me, he must be using some sort of Nerd power he learned at his Dungeons and Dragons game night, what ever it may be its working. I must snap out of it, but the grip is strong, I'm beginning to crave trading cards, I feel the desire of a membership to World of Warcraft, but in my mind I refer to it as &lt;strong&gt;WOW&lt;/strong&gt;. NO! I'm being turned in to another one of his followers, quick man think!. I look down at the floor and I notice an &lt;strong&gt;Obi-Wan Kenobi&lt;/strong&gt; bubble head doll, with all my might and strength I pick it up and throw it at him, and just as I thought, the love of Star Wars was way more strong than his desire to turn me in to a Nerd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After his grip is gone, just like magic my thoughts begin to become normal, suddenly I remember who the Quarterback for the Indianapolis Colts is again, I remember who won the NBA championship last year. Oh that was a close one, but it won't last long, I must make a move while he is in the trance of &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Obi-Wan&lt;/span&gt;. With my secret Ninja ability I jump kick him right on the chin and send him flying down the steps of the Megaplex, I run down to finish the job once and for all but out of nowhere 2 Nerds jump at me, I stand back in my Ninja stance, thinking what the next move will be...... One Two punch to the chin! one down, one to go. &lt;strong&gt;Com on Mr. Nerd, make my day! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;A kick to the head knocks me down for just a few seconds, I get back up and wipe the bit of blood left on my lip, oh its on and popin now! wham! two kicks to the balls and down like a tree he goes, as I laugh and point at the nerd reminiscing of the way people would point and laugh at me back in high school I notice that the Über Nerd has vanished, I run as fast as I can trying to catch up to him, but it's too late. He has vanished, this will not happen again. I run back inside and I grab one of the Nerds I had taken down, as I hold him up in the air with one arm (they aren't that heavy) with my other arm I make a fist and threaten to pop every zit in his face with pliers if he doesn't tell me the location of the Über Nerd.&lt;/p&gt;I sneak up in the shadows, I take a peek with my binoculars and &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/ShrFvZy5aDI/AAAAAAAAARI/IjnLTAqXrtU/s1600-h/100_0928.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339797726370031666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/ShrFvZy5aDI/AAAAAAAAARI/IjnLTAqXrtU/s320/100_0928.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I spot him, the Über Nerd! sitting with his Hench men, 3 of them to be exact. This might get bloody, but I am ready for whats ahead, I must rid this world of its Nerd population once and for all. As I start to get up I feel someones presence behind me, I turn around and just as I thought, a pack of Nerds!, I try to engage in battle but as soon as I start to gather my Fighting thoughts I get knocked out cold by one of the Nerds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Commentators voice: &lt;/strong&gt;With our hero out cold, who, I say who will save this world from Nerd domination?!, will our hero come to in time? or will he be finally turned in to one of them? for the answers to this and other questions tune in next time to the adventures of David the brave Mexican.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-4729377928959157558?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/4729377928959157558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=4729377928959157558' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/4729377928959157558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/4729377928959157558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/05/nerdtacular-part-deux.html' title='Nerdtacular: Part Deux'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/ShrFvZy5aDI/AAAAAAAAARI/IjnLTAqXrtU/s72-c/100_0928.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8084612913627549751</id><published>2009-05-12T10:16:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T13:53:50.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerdtacular: Part I</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nerdtacular, the final frontier. These are the voyages of David. His continuing mission, to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new nerd life and new nerd civilizations. To boldly go where no regular man has gone before. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Captains Log&lt;/span&gt;: Its a sunny Saturday morning in the middle of spring, the mini van's wheels are roaring through the freeway, our destination is the West Jordan Megaplex. I'm prepared for the events that will transpire in a few moments. My hands are sweating, my heart is beating so hard I can almost see it ripping it self out of my chest. My stomach is begging me for some sort of solid matter. The mini van pulls up to the nearby Carl's Jr. In there we enjoy the taste of fresh meat, tots and the thirst quenching flavor of Minute Made Lemonade. The doors slam shut, our belly's are full, once again our minds are focused on the mission at hand. We pull up to the Megaplex and as I had expected, it is full of Nerds. This is going to be tougher than I thought........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgmvbgTeccI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/PQt18Ucsr0Q/s1600-h/IMG_2847.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgmvbgTeccI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/PQt18Ucsr0Q/s320/IMG_2847.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334988120660013506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Live long and prosper&lt;/span&gt;." He gives the proper Vulcan salute, the Star Trek star pin on his red shirt begins to blink with a red light, I think to myself. "Where the hell am I?" this is Nerdtacular ladies and gentleman, the place where nerds from all over the galaxy come, to enjoy each others presence, to finally meet each other, no longer are they just a name on the computer screen, they have faces and bodies. Some are big, some are small, some are tall, some are ugly and some are just flat out weird.  But my mission is not to judge, but to catalog the amazing force that nerds bring to this world. Its amazing to see the outcome for this private screening of Star Trek. They are everywhere, I'm beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed, I'm ready to face off with the best of them.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgnQyPnwK2I/AAAAAAAAARA/FXD1bpiK_oU/s1600-h/IMG_2843.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgnQyPnwK2I/AAAAAAAAARA/FXD1bpiK_oU/s200/IMG_2843.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335024795202366306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We get down and dirty, full on confrontation mode. I remember one of the episodes of the Original Star Trek, captain Kirk is about to face off with an evil martian of some sort. But this is a worse threat, something Mr. Shatner never faced, NERDS! World of Warcraft Nerds, Star Trek Nerds, Comic book Nerds, all sorts and kinds. I take one down and 3 more appear, its never ending. I'm wounded, I'm fatigued ready to give up, but then I get an extra surge of strength and I pin them all down. Just as I am done with the herd of Nerds, I look up and I see the &lt;b&gt;Über &lt;/b&gt;Nerd of them all, the one who set all this up. This is it, what I came here for, as I get in my battle stance the lights go off and the movie starts. Sorry &lt;b&gt;Über &lt;/b&gt;Nerd, this match will have to wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Commentators Voice: &lt;/span&gt;What will happen to our hero? will the &lt;b&gt;Über &lt;/b&gt;Nerd have the upper hand on him? will David come out on top? will he be overtaken by Nerds and transformed to a Nerd himself? For the answer to these questions stay tuned to the adventures of David the brave Mexican!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8084612913627549751?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8084612913627549751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8084612913627549751' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8084612913627549751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8084612913627549751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/05/nerdtacular-part-i.html' title='Nerdtacular: Part I'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgmvbgTeccI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/PQt18Ucsr0Q/s72-c/IMG_2847.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3320431001604477911</id><published>2009-05-05T19:19:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T15:50:52.813-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons learned from Nathaniel</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333182491066742818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgNFOB5duCI/AAAAAAAAAQo/p9MW_uuHjgs/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;"&gt;PART I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?!, 12 main Entrees in this menu? only 12?," these are the words my wife yells to herself looking down at the Menu at The Mayan restaurant in Sandy, UT. You see the night had started out great, happy to know that it was the start of the weekend, as always my wife and I were planning a Friday night date, we figured we'd go get some dinner and then a movie, so far everything was going great, we pulled up at the Sandy Megaplex parking lot and bought tickets for the 9:35 pm showing of The Soloist. We were both way stoked about it, the only thing now was getting some food. I wanted to go to The Cheese Cake Factory but due to the lack of time we had left that was out of the question, here is where our adventure begins. First we decide that the Cheese Cake Factory is too far, and more than likely would be super busy with tons of trendy Men and Women lining up waiting for the chance at getting a table, minimum of a 40 minute wait, no doubt about that. So on to the next step or plan B, there is only a hand full of places were we can eat here, we have Ruby River Steakhouse, Joe's Crab Shack, The Mayan and some crappy looking Italian place which I don't remember the of. So we first hit Joe's Crab Shack, it smelled so bad, and it was so dirty looking that I was not impressed at all. We walked out and headed to the Mayan, again only 12 menu entrees available here, and none are for less than 9 or 10 dollars, not impressed. So on to Ruby River, not that enticing sorry, the smell of peanuts and beer mixed with the sounds of country music just didn't sit well with us. So what are we to do? well we drove down to Carl's Jr and had ourselves a Six Dollar Guacamole Burger, it was great. As all this was going on, I was rather ornery, hungry and a bit depressed, you see I had been struck with bad luck lately, had issues at work, I wasn't happy at all, and to make matters worse we couldn't eat at the restaurant I wanted to eat at, instead I got stuck eating at Carl's. After a small scuffle with my wife about dumn things that I wanted to buy, we started talking about my future, about what my plans were, sure enough I got uncomfortable because I didn't want to hear it at that time. Through prayer and my wife's loving touch and tact, love was in the air again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;PART II&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgNFpQa1GZI/AAAAAAAAAQw/075rV8-1BGA/s1600-h/SoloistPoster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333182958821251474" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgNFpQa1GZI/AAAAAAAAAQw/075rV8-1BGA/s320/SoloistPoster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I am sitting, watching in amazement at how much pollution there is in the streets of L.A.. Its sad to think that men and women can live this way, in the cold concrete, fighting hunger, addiction, rats, gang violence. But sadly enough this is the life that most people live on an everyday basis. Then as a ray of sunshine would give your heart ease at knowing that the storm is long gone, the amazing sound of music comes and soothes the pain that is felt by so many here, it makes it all alright, as if life is not that cruel, not so... unpredictable. The sound is coming from a homeless man playing the Cello, such an amazing talent that can't easily be taught, but yet this man plays with such a confidence, such ease, its hard no to get caught in the storm of sound caressing ones eardrum. Nathaniel Ayers, a musical prodigy who once attended the world renown Juilliard School in New York City, is now part of the millions of homeless men and women who populate Los Angeles. Its a sad way of life, but this is his life none the less. He sufferers from Schizophrenia, this is the reason why he spends his days wondering the streets of L.A., playing in front of no one at all, in front of roaring traffic, in front of so many homeless people in SKID ROW, and not playing at the Disney Concert Hall, a place he idolizes. This movie has moved me, at times I laugh, at times I feel like crying but I hold back, its gritty and real, the way they have captured the horror which is homelessness is great, at times too real to enjoy. One wonders how is it that we can live so pampered, worried about what to wear the next day, what restaurant we will eat that night or week end, what new game or worthless toy to buy, what new movie to go out and see, and yet there is so many people who are wondering if they will be able to eat at all, will they be able to sleep OK, if they will make it another day without being prey to gang violence and drugs. there is a different taste in my mouth now, try not to take what you have for granted, relax and enjoy your blessed life because no matter how much you think you are going through, there is someone that has it worse than you. COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3320431001604477911?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3320431001604477911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3320431001604477911' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3320431001604477911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3320431001604477911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/05/lessons-learned-from-nathaniel.html' title='Lessons learned from Nathaniel'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SgNFOB5duCI/AAAAAAAAAQo/p9MW_uuHjgs/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3013627141634803299</id><published>2009-04-12T11:06:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T14:06:07.813-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith is great</title><content type='html'>What is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Faith&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Faith&lt;/b&gt; is a belief in the truth of or trustworthiness of a person, idea, or thing, that is characteristically held without proof.  There for faith is believing in something that you can't see, touch, taste, or maybe even hear. Faith is knowing that something or someone is there, that something good will come out of something bad, that the sun will always rise to shine after a stormy night, that the light will once again rule over the land. This is my personal story of faith, and what it took for my wife and I to get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you may or may not know, I was born in Mexico City, Mexico. I came with my family to these United States by plane, legally, with a passport and a visa. They did become expired and there fore was in this country illegally, this has been my secret for over 15 years, but now thanks my God and my beloved Wife I no longer have to suffer with this problem that plagues so many of us in the United States. The first year of being married we told ourselves that we would have my papers done by the end of the year. February 9th was our big day, we were married and sealed for time and all eternity in the Salt Lake City Temple, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This was one of the happiest days of my life, as time went on we started saving for the process of our paper work, I say our paper work because as my wife always puts it, "We are One, so your pain is my pain, your sorrow is my sorrow, and your illegal status is my illegal status, there for this is our paper work." How great it is to have such a devoted wife. The time was finally at hand, after months of paper work, meetings with lawyers and waiting patiently by the mail box to see if my case had been approved by the government, the letter finally came that stated my time and place of meeting with a government official to determine if I would be allowed or approved Legal Residency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day of the meeting was October 27, 2008. At 1, I was so thankful to God, to my savior Jesus Christ that this day was finally approaching. But like everything there must be opposition before and or after all that is good. It was now Friday October 24th and my mother had hurt her leg, bad enough that she could not walk, it had swollen so bad that she couldn't place any pressure on it with out pain shooting through her like a shiver, a friend of hers recommended that she take some pills for the pain, something that my mother did, turns out that these pills were way too strong for my mothers delicate stomach so she was throwing up everything that she ate or attempted to eat, to the point that she was throwing up nothing but gastric acids from within her stomach. Green liquid, my poor mother laid  in bed on Sunday as she was not able to make it to church because of her condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I had been prying and fasting (To fast is to go             without food and drink voluntarily for a certain period of             time. Fasting combined with sincere prayer can strengthen us spiritually,             bring us closer to God, and help us prepare ourselves and             others to receive His blessings.) for the upcoming day, that we would be blessed with a kind and understanding person, someone that had the spirit of Christ with in them. We had just come home from church when I received a call from my sister, she told me the condition in which my mother was, and she was asking for a blessing of healing(This is when 2 or more men, holders of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood place their hands above someones head who is ill or afflicted and anointed them with Olive Oil that has been blessed and consecrated and follow to give a blessing for their health or well being) from Alvaro who is my sisters husband and myself, I rushed as fast as I could and saw the condition that my mother was in and it was a bit hard to see, she was almost green, she had been laying in bed all day, her leg swollen and not able to move, with a bucket next to her bed so that when she had to she could fill it up with what was left in her stomach. We proceed with the blessing, Alvaro did the anointing and I the blessing, it was special and moving to know that when in need I could be the one to help with the powers that I hold by having the Priesthood in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was stressed out, my mother laying in bead not able to move, and I was on my way to one of the most important meetings of my life. The blessing that I had ministered on to her worked as she was able to go to the doctor's the following day, her vomiting had stopped and she was able to sustain enough to stand on her leg, it was truly a miracle from God, this I testify of. We drove out to the place were we had our interview, we were early, actually about an hour and a half early, they specifically asked in the letter to not be more that 20 minutes early, so we waited in the car, I was perspiring like never before, I had on my black and white pinstripe suit with my blue collard button up shirt and gray tie, my wife was in a beautiful black dress. We had a package to deliver to someone in California and we figured we go and do that to kill time, but we did not know the area so well and we did not know where the local post office was. I noticed a mail car parked by us so I went to see if I could find the mail man, I had no luck but I was able to find an nice lady, I do not recall her name but she was out there lighting up a cigarette, she had on a red button up sweater, a light brownish shirt and brown dress pants, she had a badge hanging from her neck, I approached her and asked her if she worked here to what she responded yes I do, I had always imagined fat white men, who were in some way racist and angry at the world working here, but there stood the total opposite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her if she knew where the local post office was and she replied with a smile "No I don't but if you find it let me know because I have some things that I need ship out my self."  I said well thank you anyways, shook her hand and walked away, she yelled out "Good Luck" and I said thanks, I got in the car and told my wife what had just happened, we decided to just go to a local gas station as we both had to use the bathroom. As I drove I told my wife, "I hope that we get some one like that lady, she was everything that I thought this place wouldn't be, nice, caring and polite" my wife responded gently and lovingly "The Lord will have someone for us, who ever it is and what ever the outcome is, it is of God, come what may and love it," she always knows what to say.  We were on our way back as time was getting close, we parked and gave a prayer, asking for strength, firmness, and eloquence as we spoke. We walked in and there greeted us 2 security guards armed with guns and a night stick, we placed all our belongings on a tray and walked through a metal detector, we gave them our appointment paper and they instructed us to place it in a wooden box that was near a door and to have a seat and wait for our name to be called. We did so, carrying all of our belongings back, picture folders of our weeding and honey moon and paper work all to prove to the Government that we indeed were married and were living together and that it was not just to get this paper work done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting down just trying to stay calm we noticed several people coming in to this little waiting room adorned with pictures of then President Gorge W. Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney, the American flag and several other posters about immigration laws. I noticed the door behind us open, and to my surprise a fat, white balding man with a mustache came out and grabbed one of the papers that was in the wooden box in front of him, he yelled out a name of a lady, not us. She walked up and went in there with him. I was so nervous by now, my hands were clammy and my gut was shaking.  Remembering the words of my wife "Come what may and love it" I began to say a silent prayer, as soon as I was done, I look up to see the same lady whom with I had spoken outside about an hour ago, she grabbed the next paper on the little wooden box and yelled out "Edgar Roura!" with a smile of disbelief I got up with my wife and started walking to the back with this lady, as we walked to her office, I began to remember what we were fasting for, someone kind and loving who would be full of the light of Christ. She had us sworn in by placing our left hand on the Holy Bible and with our right hand raised to the square, we swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help us God, we did and proceeded with the interview. It was simple, she asked us personal questions as to when and where we met, how long we had been married, our ages, parents names etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember trying to stare right at her eyes and with my shoulders back and chest forward answering with "Yes mam, No mam" trying to be as eloquent as possible. My hand clasping my wife's squeezing it every now and then, every time I felt scared. Not a single doubt is in my mind that the Spirit of Christ was present in that little crammed office were we were sitting. The lady went on to grant my legal residency, stating that she wished that all the cases she had were like this one, no criminal background, no problems what so ever, just get in and get out. We were rejoicing within, and before our meting was over, she asked me if had found the local post office, I told her no. So she grabbed her yellow pages and looked it up and gave us the address. We left that building, smiling, crying, laughing out loud with joy, dancing, singing, this day finally came and I was now a legal resident of The United States of America. This is my testimony of faith, if you pray, and fast and do all that is right to work for that goal, Lord willing it will come to pass. My mother is better, after we gave her the blessing she stopped vomiting, her leg is like new, my wife and I were blessed with a living angel and I can now live life without worries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faith is great, and as long as we exercise it all will be well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3013627141634803299?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3013627141634803299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3013627141634803299' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3013627141634803299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3013627141634803299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/04/faith-is-great.html' title='Faith is great'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-7104026079495963481</id><published>2009-03-24T16:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T16:51:25.652-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Drawing a blank</title><content type='html'>I think that I have run out of stories to tell......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-7104026079495963481?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/7104026079495963481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=7104026079495963481' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/7104026079495963481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/7104026079495963481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/03/drawing-blank.html' title='Drawing a blank'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3482878994651860112</id><published>2009-03-20T15:08:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T23:01:15.620-06:00</updated><title type='text'>MORP</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315382045056000210" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 200px; height: 142px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/ScQHztENYNI/AAAAAAAAAQI/ur38KDQTPQI/s200/Glock22inOliveDrab.jpg" border="0" /&gt;"Gun, gun, he's got a gun!" is all I remember hearing as my friends and I took off running as fast as we could. I kept telling myself "I'm going to get shot, I'm going to die!," how could I have been so dumb? why did I put myself in these situations? but this is not where this story starts, oh no, this starts early on that same day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;It was lunch time, and there I was chilling with my boys at the "spot" which was a rail right in front of the lunch service area, we thought we were tough. It was a Friday and we were all stoked that the week end was upon us, its funny because it's the same now that I'm sitting here writing this story, Friday and I'm ready to go home. Well it was Friday and that was great but on top of it there was a dance, the Morp, which is "Prom" spelled backwards. It's a casual dance, where the girls ask the guys and everyone can attend. It was the happening thing as these dances were the place to pick up on people and just go crazy. The day went by and school was out, I walked home to relax and to get ready for the event that was about to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sitting in my room contemplating the the closet, thinking about what to wear. I kept looking at the selection that was in front of my eyes, and I did not know what to ware, and now you know what time it is.... CHECK LIST TIME!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slightly spiky hair: Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Blue short sleeve plaid shirt from Wally World: Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Baggie Dicky cargo pants: Check &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Brand new Rebook high tops: Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chap Stick:  Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Double Mint Gum (Double the pleasure, double the fun): Check &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cologne (Michael Jordan, not a breath refresher): Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mouth full of metal (Braces): Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I felt like a hundred bucks, I was ready to party, ready to mingle and ready to make out with some poor girl (Imagine, not the best kisser with braces). By the time I was done with the check list it was about 8:30 pm and the dance had started. This is a must when you go to a party or dance, always make it a personal goal to show up late as this will enhance your entrance, unless people see you as a nerd or looser in which case you won't be noticed no matter how late you show up, sorry I don't make the rules. The year was 1999 my junior year, and music was the thing that life revolved around for most teens our age and at that time for me it was Deep House (please don't ask) and I thought that I could dance to it well, Hip Hop was great as well and as always I was all about it but for some reason I was in love with Deep House, and the way the "Rebels" danced to it. If you were in Cali around that time you know what I'm talking about.  There I was walking in and all the lights were off in the Gym, the Strobe lights flashing off and on so fast that it made things look as if everything was moving in slow motion.  Everyone in the middle of the dance floor getting their groove on to the sounds of DMX's "Party Up" , I recall the Bass thumping and rattling my every thought. I walked around to check out the action, as I always did also looking for anyone I knew. I finally found my buddy Chris and his girlfriend Valery (Her and I had a complicated past) So I casually said hello to the both of them trying not to bring up any past issues or memories. I walked away and ran in to my buddy Darrin, him and I were starting to build a good relationship, I was happy to have someone to try and pick up some digits with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The night went on and we danced with a few girls we knew, loving the way the night was turning out, we had run in to some of our friends, Danny was there and he was good friends with Chris and Darrin as well as with myself, as the dance started to wrap up I remember talking to Darrin about 2pac (this was a topic that him and I could talk about hours) and his best songs, all the sudden we hear Valerie crying and it grabbed our attention so we stopped what we were doing to stare at her and Chris talking, I thought "Oh no, they broke up because I'm too much for her to not think about, poor fool but I don't blame her," but I was way off. I saw Chris's face and he was hot (angry) all the sudden I see him walking toward us, I got a little tense thinking of what I could have done or say to make her cry and him so mad, but I was stunned to hear what he had to say.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"What?!" was our reaction, I remember Danny getting so mad it was kind of scary, he was a bit unstable when it came to throwing blows. Turns out that a guy named Jerome got in to some words with Valerie and slapped her, I don't care how in your face or rude a woman is to you, you should never lay your hands on a woman. He asked us to get his back as he was going to confront Jerome outside so we said yes. There we were 4 guys ready for some words and fists to fly, it felt like the movie Reservoir Dogs when all the guys are walking down the alley way in slow motion with some sort of music joining our every step. We get to the front gate where Jerome was talking to a girl and we let Chris go and confront him, we weren't about to jump the kid, this was Chris's problem and he was going to deal with it. "Why did you slap my girl?!," Chris yelled out getting pumped up for a fight to what Jerome responded "Man I don't know what you talking about man, get your *bleep* out of here with that." Chris wasn't buying it so he brought Valerie and had her tell him right there what happened, she did and again Chris got in Jerome's face more aggressively, "Why did you hit her you *bleep*?, you never hit a woman, now I'm going to whoop your *bleep*," I think Jerome was a bit scared because he just keep saying he didn't do nothing and walked away. Its done I thought but it had just started.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;About 10 minutes of being gone, we see a fleet of people and right in front was Jerome with Percy and another guy I didn't know, to our luck Danny was good friends with Percy who was the big man around, know for his gang affiliations, I thought to my self "Oh man this is going to get ugly" and boy did it. Now that he was backed up by a few of his boys Jerome grew some guts and confronted Chris about the issue saying that he did slap his girl because she deserved it, "what you going to do about it white boy?" I remember him saying out loud, now Chris was not one to be messed with but even he saw that our odds weren't so great, 4 of us and about 10 of them, by any means not a fair fight at all. Jerome kept getting more aggressive by the second and Chris was not backing down, he felt that he would be a hypocrite if he did and I don't blame him. We were there for him if things got out of hand and they were, Danny was trying his best to get Percy and his homies to back off and let Chris and Jerome handle this on their own, but when Jerome heard this he flipped saying that we came at him when he was by himself and didn't back down, "that's a lie" I said out loud, "he came to you by himself and you know it man." Things got more harsh, he started yelling and Chris by this time was fed up and took out what looked like a shank, Jerome noticed and made a big deal and Percy hit the wall, he was way mad at the fact.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You *bleeping* skin head" Jerome screamed at Chris, he was everything but that, but I could see why he would think that. Chris was White, bald and full of tattoos. Well this kept going on for about 20 minutes and then all the sudden it turned Percy against Chris, Danny was in the middle of it trying to defuse it and he was getting both to calm down, but we didn't see Jerome. When I noticed that he wasn't around is when I heard some one yelling, "Gun, gun, He's got a Gun!," we didn't wait to see if this was true or not we broke as fast as we could, we ran for our lives down the street, I kept thinking "I'm going to die, I'm going to get shot, I'm going to get shot and then I'm going to die!," then after we had ran for about 3 blocks I heard what sounded like 3 loud claps, I ran even faster. We finally made it to an apartment complex and jumped in to some bushes, we hid there for about 5 minutes waiting for things to calm down, we saw people running past us, screaming like crazy. My heart was beating out of my chest, I was so shaken that my hands could not stop shaking. Darrin was right next to me, and Danny next to him. We all separated and went our own way after about 30 minutes of waiting things out, I later found out that Chris and Valerie got away just fine, no one was hurt as far as I know, and to be honest I don't know if a single round was fired at all or if my mind was so in to the moment that something that sounded like gun shots scared me half to death. That was an interesting night, I kept a low profile after as I didn't want to get in to anything that could end my life, and thank God, I was kept away from any harm. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3482878994651860112?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3482878994651860112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3482878994651860112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3482878994651860112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3482878994651860112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/03/morp.html' title='MORP'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/ScQHztENYNI/AAAAAAAAAQI/ur38KDQTPQI/s72-c/Glock22inOliveDrab.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-5646120931404595125</id><published>2009-03-13T13:27:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T14:05:54.889-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepers</title><content type='html'>Have you ever done something so bad that you think you are going to jail? Well this is what I felt one hot Summer in Lancaster. The year was about 1998 and we lived in a closed block named Foxboro ct. In a 2 story home, there lived almost my whole family, my brother Luis and his wife Ely, my sister Claudia and her husband David and their 2 kids Itzel and Alex, also my Mom, my sister Ana and her kid Danny and my self. It was a big house and we did this to save money and to be together (not a good idea). It was a great neighborhood when we first moved in in 1996, great place to raise a family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not long after my only friend Aaron and his family moved out I met Jamel and Trammel, my first black friends! (I hope that doesn't come off as racist) but until then I had only hung out with Latinos and Whites. We started noticing a big change in the people who started to move in to the block, bigger families, so that meant that less adults, more chances to get in to trouble. There was only one entrance to the street, it was also the only exit that lead to the main avenue, 15Th street east. Cross the street and there was another neighborhood but the entrance to that street was a bit up the road, so the houses who's backs were to the avenue had very high walls, or at least they seemed high to me as I was not able to jump them like all my friends did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day we had nothing to do and we had befriended a kid from the other neighborhood, we called him Beavis because he resembled the character made famous by Mike Judge on MTV. He was a bit older and also friends with a few boys in our block. On this day life changed for some of us. There we were trying to be cool with the older kids of the block and we all decided to go to Beavis's house and chill. There we were passing time with nothing to do, I don't remember who had the bright idea but it was suggested that we go in the back yard and throw stuff at cars passing by. This all seemed like a great idea at the time so all of us, Beavis, Jamel, Trammel, George, his little brother Ezekiel, and myself went to his back yard which was a big one with a tool shed, an apple tree (which was our ammo) and enough space to play football if we wanted to but I guess that throwing apples at cars and people was more appealing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There we were ready to have fun. "Here comes a car, get ready" George yelled out, so we grabbed our apples and and cocked our arm back and began to open fire at our target, in a matter of seconds the car was splattered with apple sauce, it was thrilling to be doing something so stupid, not knowing that we could actually harm someone really bad. But we didn't care so we continued with our fun little target practice, the next victim was a guy on a motorcycle but what we didn't realize is that he had a little kid on the back, which so happened to be his son. Beavis and Trammel opened fire on the poor Innocent target and all I remember was hearing the bike swerve out of control as the attack came as a surprise. We expected the guy to yell out loud belligerently and continue but boy were we wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we peeked out to see what happened, the bike stopped. The guy made sure his kid was OK, while all this happened there was another guy walking by who witnessed the event that had just happened and went to the guy's rescue. After they made sure the kid was OK, he was just a bit shook up. They broke for the wall of the house were we were, as we saw them running towards us we booked it. I remember running to hide in the tool shed with Jamel and Trammel. The door shut behind us leaving just a crack, enough for us to hear the 2 men jumping over the wall, I was so scared, breathing so heavy I was begging to worry that the guys would hear me and bust in there and take us all down. I remember looking around the tool shed and looking at my 2 friends, tears were coming down their eyes, tears of fear and adrenaline mixed together was my best guess, I was moved by their emotion so much that I too began to tear up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shed began to be silent and we figured we were clear, maybe the guys looked around and didn't find anyone so they left. My mind and soul started to calm down, I was so tense I didn't realize that I was gripping a pipe so tight that my fingers began to cramp up once I started relaxing. My calm thoughts were short lived, we started walking to the the door to see if they were gone, as we got closer I could hear foot steps on the grass, so I knew they were still looking for us. Then I saw something that made me freeze, I saw one of the men walking towards the tool shed. Staring right in to his eyes I thought to my self, "I'm so busted" but to my surprise out of the corner of my eye I see Beavis making a brake for it, that was the wrong choice but because of him doing that he saved 3 of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the 2 guys saw him running off, they gave chance after him. It was now or never, the 3 of us busted out of the tool shed to meet up with Gorge and his brother. I remember hiding behind the door that lead the back yard to the front yard waiting for the right time, I saw the 2 guys running after Beavis in circles as he was trying to evade them, but that came to an end because they both just tackled him to the ground. This was our cue to run for it, so we busted out the door as fast as we could. We sprinted as fast as our legs gave us the chance, I kept looking back to see the 2 guys walking back in the house with Beavis, I was so scared that they would call the cops on us, that our police sketches would be plastered all over the news, to make matters worse we had just watch Sleepers the night before, this movie was similar to what had just happened. Kids doing something dumb hurt someone and they go to jail and get abused bad. I didn't want to end up like this so I ran and ran as much as I could, I remember my legs burning, my chest aching, I was gasping for air, but I couldn't stop, not yet I had to get away. We ran for about a mile, until we realize that they weren't following us at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all tripping, wondering what to do next, how could we go back to our house? there was one entrance back and we were sure there would be cops all over looking for us, so we cut through the apartment buildings that were right next door to our block. We jumped the wall and all went to our home. There I was sweating like I had just ran for my life (which I did), I remember my sister asking me what was wrong, and I spilled my guts out, I told her everything. She look at me saying "Are you stupid? do you not remember that movie we watched last night? remember what they did to dose kids?" (see I told you it was similar) "I know, I know, you don't have to remind me, I saw the movie as well" I told her, I was so ready for this day to be over that I just went to my room and turned some music on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out that Beavis never gave any names, claiming that he was acting on his own. We never got in trouble for this stupid stunt of ours. I sure learned my lesson but not all of us did. Eventually Beavis was involved in a shooting with some guys that he befriended from our block. He is currently serving time in prison. Jamel went on to College while his brother Trammel became a drug dealer, not sure what happened to George or his brother as we distanced ourselves from them as much as we could. We all eventually moved out of the block, and as for me I'm here telling you what happened during a hot summer day 11 years ago..... Life is sweet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-5646120931404595125?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/5646120931404595125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=5646120931404595125' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5646120931404595125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5646120931404595125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/03/sleepers.html' title='Sleepers'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3842786333459915278</id><published>2009-03-11T13:40:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T23:00:56.867-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Goliath Dubie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sbgf6hocPOI/AAAAAAAAAQA/8rcRlzxBOv4/s1600-h/1257263120_7e33200997.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312030850804366562" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 200px; height: 150px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sbgf6hocPOI/AAAAAAAAAQA/8rcRlzxBOv4/s200/1257263120_7e33200997.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Can any one from California tell me what is the happiest place on earth? no not Disneyland but.... you guessed it Six Flags Magic Mountain! (for a teenager this place is like Disneyland on crack). Being a teenager this is the place to be during the summer, so like many teenagers my buddies and I would go constantly. This story is one of stupidity, emotion and an just being at the wrong place at the wrong time, this is The Goliath Dubie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the Summer of... oh I don't know 2000? sounds good to me. I was hanging out with my partner in crime Adrian (I told you I have many stories that involve this moron) and his cousin who was out in Lancaster with us for the Summer from his East L.A. home. We did everything together that summer, it was fun and full of many funny moments. It was Adrian's girlfriends birthday and her dad had money to spare and her mom hated her dad so she took advantage of the situation and got her dad to pay for all of us to go to Six Flags as her birth day gift, her mom would be driving us there. We were stoked, going to Six Flags in the Summer had become a routine for us, we had been to every single ride in that park and we loved it. This Summer was a special one because Goliath was brand new and the fact that we were going for free was just as exciting as a new ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There we were, getting off the mini van that Adrian's mother in law drove. The day was perfect, sunny and hot, not a cloud in the sky. Thinking to myself "I'm getting some digits today" I got suited for action.... CHECK LIST TIME!&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Red hair: Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Black and Red Eminem Slim Shady shirt that is way to big for me: Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yellow Nike windbreaker jogging pants rolled up to show my gastroc-soleus (look it people): Check&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Red High top Chuck Taylor's stuffed at the tongue to make my foot look fat (don't ask) with the top folded down to look Gangsta: CHECK! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I was ready to pimp around the teenager playground I like calling Six Flags Magic Mountain. We start walking to the the entrance after we had our tickets handed to us, and like any theme park you have the annoying camera people trying to take your picture as you walk in, so we took one. I still have this picture, I stood in the middle with Adrian to my left and his Cousin to my right, striking our pose trying our hardest to mad dog the camera to look tough. We were all stoked to be there, the smell of funnel cake pierced my nostrils every time we walked in. There we were, Adrian and his Girlfriend Amy, his Cousin, Roxy who is Amy's Cousin who had a crush on me, and my self, all young, dumb and ready to enjoy a day full of screaming and adrenaline, or so we thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all decided that we didn't want to do anything but to get on &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312030392360282914" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 200px; height: 130px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sbgff1y2qyI/AAAAAAAAAP4/Hipt1wv_u6A/s200/279080609_8cde4265bc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Goliath to start the day, so we went straight to it. The line was long, way long (if you been there it was out by the actual letters or maybe past that) so we got in line, all happy and excited. Chatting as the line moved so slow we kept staring at the ride as it went up up up up up.... just thinking about the noise they make it makes my hands sweat, hearing the "clank clank clank clank clank clank" just as you get to the very top and then they just let you look out at your surroundings for just a split second and then voom! off to the bottom you go, man I miss the rush of the thrilling speeds. I don't know if I mentioned that my buddy Adrian was a major pot head back then (he enrolled in the navy so that had to stop) and his cousin wasn't any better. I didn't smoke anymore because of a really bad high that scared me off weed for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adrian was a bit hooked on weed and was feeling his vice coming back and told his cousin, "hey man lets go to the bathroom real quick to light this blunt up before we hit the ride, it will make it so much better!" to what his cousin said "sure man"  and off they were to the nearest bath room which was about 100 feet from where we were. The girls and I stayed in line waiting for it to move, I was so used to them smoking around me that I didn't think nothing of it so I didn't say anything. We waited for about 10 to 15 minutes and we were getting closer to going through the Goliath gate so Amy asked me if I could go and get the guys, I said sure ill be right back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about 11:30 am and we had the whole day ahead of us, I walked in the bathroom and looked around for them but I couldn't see them, I walked all the way back to the stalls and there they were hiding, taking the last puffs. "Lets go man, the line is almost through the gate" I said to them and they responded "OK we have like 2 more hits, we will be right out" I said OK and turned around and closed the door of the stall behind me, the bathroom was empty but as I started walking I noticed a man walking in with a hat and shades, I thought nothing of it. Right before we passed each other he screams at me at the top of his lung capacity "Get your hands against the wall now!" I did not know what to do as I was in shock, he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall and told me to keep my hands in the air and not to move, he walked to the back and yelled out "Get out with your hands out now!" and I looked over to see him cuffing Adrian and his cousin and he told us "I'm undercover security for this park, and you guys are in deep poo" (he used the other word)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started walking out of the bathroom where another guy was waiting for his partner, so they both took us to the security office like we were criminals, well I guess they were but I was Innocent, and I kept telling him that I didn't do anything but he just ignored me.  This was not turning out the way I planed it at all. We were walked out of the park by where you buy the tickets when you first walk in, there was a room that was camouflaged to look like just another wall, but the guy opened the door and there it was, I very low budget security room, stuffy and smelly. About 4 other guys where in there dressed normal to when I realised they were all undercover.  There we were sitting against the wall, hot and sweaty missing the fun and I'm sure that the girls were worried like crazy because we never came back. The Security people started asking us questions, like interrogation. What were you guys doing in there? How much weed did you smoke? who was your dealer? you guys are in so much trouble, the cops are on their way. I have heard these threats once before at this place but that's a whole other story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make the story short, we were there until about 4 pm locked in this room. All i kept thinking about was how mad I was at these two numb nuts for getting me in trouble. I had convinced the security guys I didn't do anything and that they could run a drug test if they wanted, I had nothing to hide. As for the other two morons they had to be escorted out of the park and were not to return for a good time, the reason we had been waiting in there for so long is because we needed to be handed over to an adult but Amy's mom wasn't coming back for us until way later. As I sat there all I could hear was the rides going over and over, the screams of the people on them, the laughter, the foot steps as people passed by the secret security room planning out their day, I remember looking at Adrian and his cousin an being so mad at them and they were smiling as their high slowly faded away. We were eventually let go, Amy had been asking around for us and was finally lead to security, she was told of what had happened and called her mom, she came as soon as she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was now about 5pm and our day was done, I was glad to be out in the open again. Amy's mom was mad and so was Amy, and so was I. The ride home was quiet and lets just say that I never went back to Six Flags with Adrian for the rest of my life in California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the moral of this story is this: Don't smoke weed because its bad for you and you will get kicked out of Six Flags, and please try to avoid having friends who smoke all together. Until next time faithful readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3842786333459915278?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3842786333459915278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3842786333459915278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3842786333459915278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3842786333459915278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/03/goliath-dubie.html' title='The Goliath Dubie'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sbgf6hocPOI/AAAAAAAAAQA/8rcRlzxBOv4/s72-c/1257263120_7e33200997.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-135447677684122606</id><published>2009-03-10T14:23:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T06:18:16.106-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No Love for "Big Love"</title><content type='html'>So there is yet another hit on the sacred ordinances of the church, another attack towards The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This one comes to us thanks to the good people at HBO and also thanks to Forest Gump himself, every one's beloved do-good actor Tom Hanks who is a producer of the show&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big Love&lt;/strong&gt; is is an American television drama about a family in Utah that practices polygamy. The creators of the show assured to the Church that they would in no way involve anything related to the LDS faith or believes, but maybe they had their fingers crossed. On the 15Th of March they will be showing an episode that will feature a "depiction in detail" of a temple endowment. If you are LDS you know that this is a big deal! but if you aren't let me put it this way, when you and your wife/husband have sex or make love what ever you call it, do you show every one in the world? or do you keep it to yourself because of how beautiful and sacred and personal it is? Well the same goes with temple work, its not that its secret and we want to keep the world from knowing what goes on in there but its far to sacred to share with everyone. We invite and encourage all who are members of the Church and are worthy Temple Recommend holders to do temple work, but if you don't meet the qualifications you shouldn't know what goes on in there. There is tons of worthy members who don't know what goes on inside the temple as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just another testament of the true Church, it is Prophecy being fulfilled as we speak. The name of our prophet has been used for both Good and Evil and it will continue, we as members are persecuted for what we believe to be right and just and because we stand up for what we know to be the law of God we are called "narrow minded" and "bigots" this is all fine with me because as my loving wife put it, "We are privileged and blessed to be living in these times and to be witness of the last days" so as Christ did and taught us to do, I shall too turn the left cheek and love and pray for mine enemies. I wish HBO, the cast members of Big Love and any one involved with the show well, may God bless them and listen to them as they will have to answer to allot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbcIZcki_TI/AAAAAAAAAPo/e3mXLWGpuhg/s1600-h/from+the+bottom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311723518766021938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbcIZcki_TI/AAAAAAAAAPo/e3mXLWGpuhg/s200/from+the+bottom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-135447677684122606?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/135447677684122606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=135447677684122606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/135447677684122606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/135447677684122606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-love-for-big-love.html' title='No Love for &quot;Big Love&quot;'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbcIZcki_TI/AAAAAAAAAPo/e3mXLWGpuhg/s72-c/from+the+bottom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-5449581463706527467</id><published>2009-03-09T13:14:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T10:11:29.335-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad taste in my mouth</title><content type='html'>People grow and understand that the choices they have made in the past were not the smartest, or the wrong ones. But none the less we learn from every single choice we make and action we take good or bad. This is the story of an action that was a very bone headed one in my behalf but funny enough to write about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I was, looking around the back of shoe store for the right size of shoe the customer had just asked me for and for the life of me I couldn't find it, but this story begins about 2 hours prior to this situation in the front yard of one of my friend's, we had been out of school for about an hour and I had to kill time before I went to work so I was chilling with my buddy Adrian (many stories to tell about him and I) and we decided to head over Ken's house so there we were driving in my 89 Ford Escort GT, oh yeah rolling in high class. This was my first car and I loved it, I had it all pimped out (or so I thought) lowered, exhaust, sound system the works you know how we Cali boys do it. We roll up and we knock on the door and out came Ken and his buddy who's name I can't remember for the life of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ready to taste some of the good stuff?" Ken asked us to what we replayed in great enthusiasm "Hell yeah man, don't hold out on us" You see I was young and dumb, about 17 years old and I thought like many young men do "I'm the man and smoking a little weed won't hurt me, I can't get addicted" I was right, thank God I never got in to it like my buddy did, he is one of the biggest pot heads I know and here I was walking the same footsteps, but I was cool for chilling with the pot heads I mean this is all high school was about right? fitting in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep inside of me I knew I was messing up but somehow I didn't care, it's like I wanted to brake the rules of my house and of my religious believes to show them I wasn't like the rest of the followers, but sadly enough I was all I was trying to avoid. Well back to business, there we were sitting in Ken's front porch, pipe in one hand and the lighter in the other, here we go, this is what separates the men from the kids, the mouse from the lion and I was a Lion, a leader who didn't play by the rules of everyone else, as I light up the pipe I remembered my mom's many talks about drugs, how sad would she be if she saw me right now, how would my brother react? I didn't care so I took my manly puffs. "Puff, puff, give, puff, puff, give" is all I kept thinking, ah the soothing sounds of Cris Tucker's voice echoed in my mind, I was a rebel, braking the law and not caring. Look at me world! I'm a man and I'm smoking weed to prove it, on my friends front porch none the less, that was to show the law that I wasn't scared of them. Why should I be? I was 17 years of age, a man by my standards, I was able to go in to rated R movies without a parent, I could go in to the adult stores (which I did as soon as I turned 17 just to say I did it) I was able to drive by myself, no parental supervision as I now had a real drivers license not a permit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, my thoughts are a bit drag dude!" I said out loud, I was high and a bit confused. This was only the second time doing this so I wasn't used to the feeling like my friends were, I remember raising my hand in front of my face and waving back and forward and seeing ghosting of my hand if you will, laughing for no reason, feeling extra slow in thought and speech. To this day I don't know why I got high, I wasn't crazy about it and it was sure enough something that didn't make me feel good, peer pressure is hard to overcome when you are striving for friendship and I was striving to be accepted by these morons. So there we were the four of us, high as can be thinking we all cool. "Well fellows I'm off, can't be late to work" I wasn't making a great impression at work to begin with and I'm sure showing up late and high would make things even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey man give me one of those Starburst, my mouth tastes and smells like weed" I told my friend Adrian, he looked at me with a smile and said "Dude I'm out" with a big grin on his face. Great there I was about to drive high to work with the stench of weed in my mouth, whats one to do? I hop in to my car and start driving off, think fast man I kept telling myself. I had some cologne in my car, Michael Jordan to be exact. I had just gotten it for Christmas and I proceeded to spray myself down with it to cover up the smell. Then I began to formulate what I thought at the time was a genius idea, if the smell of the cologne is good enough on clothes and I needed to refresh my breath why not spray my mouth with it?. When people tell you that you can't think straight when you are intoxicated in any way shape or form they are telling the truth. I did one of the dumbest things ever, I opened my mouth wide open and placed the cologne spray right to my tongue, I pressed the top of it and it discharged the liquid all over my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a moment I waited for the goodness to spread through my mouth, com on refreshing taste of Michael Jordan do your magic. But it never happened, to my surprise it started to sting and the taste that came about was horrid. But how could this be? It smelled so great it just had to taste just as good right? My mouth tasted so nasty and my tongue started going numb. "Great" I thought, now I won't be able to talk "stupid Adrian taking all the Starburst" I thought to my self. Well I had no choice but to toughen up and just deal with the taste and the numb feeling. So there I was walking up to my job, "Vans Shoe Store" I read as I walked up thinking to myself that the letters were bigger than what I remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Staring at a lady I remembered that she had just asked me to bring her the right size for her to try on our shoe, the Spicoli black and white checkered shoes made famous by Sean Penn in his cult classic &lt;strong&gt;Fast Times at Ridgemont High &lt;/strong&gt;playing, well what do you know, a pot head. Well I ran to the back and there I was, looking around for the right size of shoe the customer had just asked me for and for the life of me I couldn't find it or remember it, so I grabbed a size 8. I walk back to her and say "I only found an 8, will that be OK?" she looked at me for a few seconds lost in thought, it seemed odd that she would do that but then she said "I didn't ask for help" Oh boy I was still high! "Sorry about that mam" and I walked across the room to the right lady sitting down waiting for me to bring the shoes and again I say "I only found an 8, will that be OK?" and again that blank stare. I was beginning to get frustrated thinking that I was going crazy, but then she said "That's the size I asked for to begin with sir" ah OK, I turned bright red and just gave her the shoes. I swore never to smoke and work at the same time after that little mishap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shortly got fired and stopped smoking weed because of a bad high, not the brightest of many dumb decisions I have made in my life but they sure do make for great stories right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-5449581463706527467?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/5449581463706527467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=5449581463706527467' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5449581463706527467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5449581463706527467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/03/bad-taste-in-my-mouth.html' title='Bad taste in my mouth'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2315297017898837590</id><published>2009-03-04T13:54:00.010-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T09:02:29.589-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Churn baby Churn!</title><content type='html'>This little jewel was inspired by a fellow blogger, he has a recent story up and it actually brought back memories of an event that had transpired that I guess was so bad it scared me and the only thing I can think of is that I blocked the event from my mind, but once I read his blog flashbacks of what I once did started to come back, like the palpitations of my heart slow and steady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember the year but it must have been around 2000 or 2001 , I was employed at the local AV Car Wash and well business was not booming and I didn't like that job much. I was ready to move on to bigger and better things, oh but I wasn't ready for this blow, not yet. I wasn't able to get a job, I looked for a bit and down in my luck I went to the mall with my then best friend Adrian, his girlfriend and her cousin who had a major crush on me, Its hard not to imagine this happening often as I was a great looking piece of man. Picture this if you will; Standing at an amazing length of 5 feet 9 inches, the weight of a feather weight, a solid 130 lbs, milky white skin, mouth full of metal (braces), spiky &lt;strong&gt;red hair,&lt;/strong&gt; I mean dreamy. Well there we were walking around the AV mall. As we wal&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sa7vIeSNZ8I/AAAAAAAAAPI/sOzHca8lmw8/s1600-h/Hdos-logo.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309443939563825090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 95px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sa7vIeSNZ8I/AAAAAAAAAPI/sOzHca8lmw8/s200/Hdos-logo.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ked by the food court I noticed that there was a new food stand, something I have never seen before. There it was in bright Red, Yellow and Blue writing "Hot Dog on a Stick" it was as if it was asking me to come, inviting me if you will to partake of the riches that awaited for me in the inside of the ranks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;To this day I have no Idea why I applied there but I did, I gave my application back to the manager and like all other jobs I expected a call back a few days later for an interview, but boy was I wrong. As soon as I handed the application I started to retreat when the manager asked me if I had time to start the interview process right away, I was a bit shocked that it worked out so well so fast. I said sure why not, I was in need of a job and here was an opportunity plus how bad could it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I felt before I saw the uniform I had to ware, you see the manager told me as he handed me the uniform, "This is an audition to see if you fit and are cut out to be part of our Hot Dog on a Stick family" There was several other people there applying or as he referred to it "Auditioning" for this coveted position. I took my uniform that was folded o so neatly and headed to the bath r&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbGxR5a1saI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/4AEaaCLjjgM/s1600-h/pics_pplcirc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310220356675809698" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbGxR5a1saI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/4AEaaCLjjgM/s200/pics_pplcirc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;oom. I was standing in there with a look of disbelieve, have you ever seen their uniforms? Well I looked like a total moron, the shirt was a bit snug and bright, the hat was hideous and o to my favorite part of the whole outfit, the shorts. They were blue and so short, I am not a fan of my legs so I don't like using shorts but my Audition was close at hand and I needed to get in character. I sagged those shorts as far down as I could but still they did not reach my knees at all. It was a bit hard getting out of that bathroom stall but I was in need of money, here went nothing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get to the back after walking by my friend and his girl and her cousin, my face match my hair color perfect!. There I was making a fool of my self with the dumbest outfit I have ever put on. So on I went to my audition, the guy had us dip some corn dogs and gave us a few tips on how this art was done the right way. It was all OK so far as we were in the back away from people but the grand finale was at hand, oh yeah the Lemonade Churn. I know what you thinking, no big deal just churn and that's it. But oh you are so wrong, we had to do this in front of th&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbG1hyFZwsI/AAAAAAAAAPg/hU7arIV6yuI/s1600-h/lifestyle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310225027631268546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbG1hyFZwsI/AAAAAAAAAPg/hU7arIV6yuI/s200/lifestyle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbG1dXhnXBI/AAAAAAAAAPY/1A3WMkTYXZA/s1600-h/hotdog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310224951782366226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 131px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SbG1dXhnXBI/AAAAAAAAAPY/1A3WMkTYXZA/s200/hotdog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;e whole congregation which is the mall food court. So there we were looking like idiots suited up for the opportunity of our lives! to be a true blue Hot Dog on a Stick member. It was now my turn at the lemonade churning and I remember looking up at the people walking by staring and smiling but not in a flirtatious way, more in a "you guys look like retards" kind of way, man I was just about done with this audition but one more task was at hand, bring on the CHURN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Churn baby churn, churn baby churn! is all I kept thinking in my head remembering that Fresh Prince of Bel Air episode where Ashley gets a job at the Dippity Doo Dog which now that I think about it is a big rip off of our beloved franchise. I was churning that lemonade like no ones business as I made a complete fool of my self. I remember that Manager asking us how we felt to what I replied "Great" but in my head I was cursing him and this damn place out. My audition didn't go so well, the manager pulled me aside and told me that I wasn't Hot Dog on the Stick material, but he thanked me for my effort. I was compensated for that ridiculous display, 15 dollars to be exact. I don't think I have ever been so glad to be told that I wasn't cut out to be part of a company before but I took my 15 dollars and gave back that dumb outfit and went and had myself a life..... oh what could have been if I were to be hired? where would I be now? maybe my life would be different but I don't care to find out how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2315297017898837590?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2315297017898837590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2315297017898837590' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2315297017898837590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2315297017898837590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/03/churn-baby-churn.html' title='Churn baby Churn!'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/Sa7vIeSNZ8I/AAAAAAAAAPI/sOzHca8lmw8/s72-c/Hdos-logo.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8184230529284541321</id><published>2009-02-28T16:12:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T16:21:07.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission Possible</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SanGXcL4NSI/AAAAAAAAAPA/A0h1XyGrLeM/s1600-h/IMG_1831.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SanGXcL4NSI/AAAAAAAAAPA/A0h1XyGrLeM/s200/IMG_1831.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307991741838144802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This just in, it appears that David R, I repeat David R has gone in to the world famous Provo Bakery and has successfully acquired a box of goodness (code word for Doughnuts) a dozen to be exact. More will be revealed as we get our information from our inside source......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SanFUX288fI/AAAAAAAAAO4/ufqWI_9wK48/s1600-h/IMG_2667.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SanFUX288fI/AAAAAAAAAO4/ufqWI_9wK48/s320/IMG_2667.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307990589625397746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8184230529284541321?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8184230529284541321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8184230529284541321' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8184230529284541321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8184230529284541321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/mission-accomplished.html' title='Mission Possible'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SanGXcL4NSI/AAAAAAAAAPA/A0h1XyGrLeM/s72-c/IMG_1831.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2988144056253391203</id><published>2009-02-26T12:42:00.010-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T09:03:48.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission Impossible</title><content type='html'>This is a story of agony, of pain and of anguish mixed with a bit of martial arts, midgets and explosions. How hard is it for a kid to have been dreaming of something for so long, like a trip to Disney Land and he or she comes to find out that daddy and mommy are flat broke so instead of going to Disney this year son/daughter we are going to Trafalga! ha? no? nothing? well that is how hurt and disappointed I was, this.... is ..... my endless heart brake. &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SabzwWrdzwI/AAAAAAAAAOo/TvZgkUWcxII/s1600-h/Donuts.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307197222949867266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SabzwWrdzwI/AAAAAAAAAOo/TvZgkUWcxII/s200/Donuts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lets start from when I first tasted the goodness which is known around the world as The Provo Bakery, My hermano Brian has a tradition when ever we go to Idaho to visit the Family, he always brings them goodness in the shape of doughnuts. Now until this last time we went for our Nephew's baptism I had not had these little round treasures, but I made the grave mistake of actually partaking of the joy this last trip. I had what I consider to be the best doughnut ever, raspberry covered. Oh! I am getting a bit hungry for some as we speak. I put it in the microwave for 10 seconds and I had a big glass of milk to go with it.... it was life altering. Never had I known that doughnuts could be so good, they should be illegal because of how addicting they can be. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fast forward to 3 weeks ago, I was not feeling so great. I was coming down with the flu and I hate being sick because I almost never get sick, but when I do it takes a bit to get rid of it. So I decided to take a half day from work, it was a Wednesday morning and I had been craving some Provo Bakery since that fateful day in Idaho. So I called my wife and told her I would be stopping by to pick up some goodness (code word for doughnuts). I pull up and I'm like a boy at a candy store..... but this candy store was a doughnut store and the boy was me, so in a way nothing different but..... OK you get the point. I start to salivate allot, I don't know where to begin so I do what any normal man would do in this situation, I ordered an assorted dozen that way I can fall in love 12 times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a joyous week because we had goodness in the home, it lasted long enough for my wife and I to get addicted, so when they were gone our home felt a bit empty. Somehow coming home from work was not the same, I felt a void in me and I couldn't point it out. It felt like something had died inside of us. It was hard, the withdrawals were severe and painful. Specially with the flu and nothing to cope with. It was a lonely week and then I decided last week that I would stop to get some more goodness, a dozen but only this time we would get only Apple Fritters, Raspberry doughnuts, and my wife's favorite the Butter Milk ones. It was a beautiful sight to imagine, our home would once again be filled with love and joy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was Monday, I drive after work to accomplish my mission, get a dozen doughnuts and get out, but sneak a bite or 2 just to ease the nerves. I drive up to the building and it looked a bit desolate like in the spaghetti westerns, tumble weeds rolling by without a care, the noise of wind whistling off cracks from the walls and of the trees. I was a bit nervous, my heart jacked up the palpitations to its max, my palms started to gather perspiration, my mouth got a bit dry from anxiety but like a man I was ready for the outcome. I got off my trusty steed (2000 Nissan Maxima) with both arms out on both sides, my fingers twirling to my sides as if ready to draw my guns off the holsters I walked up slowly to what came as a surprise..... the door had a sign that read Hours of Operation Tuesday trough Saturday till 6 pm closed Sunday and Monday. NO!!!!! I yelled out at the top of my lungs, dropping to my knees in shock and terror. How would I overcome this great blow? would I be able to get back up? would I be the same ever again? only time would tell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I Finlay snapped out of it and regained consciousness, I took out my phone and dialed the boss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Boss (Jenny): Did you get it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Henchman (David): No, we stumbled across a bit of a problem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Boss (Jenny): What is it?&lt;/div&gt;The Henchman (David): They are closed on Monday&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): How is that possible? the plan was perfect!&lt;br /&gt;The Henchman (David): I know, I am sorry this happened. Please give me another chance and I will accomplish the mission tomorrow, one more day is all I ask.&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): Fine, you have one more day to carry out this mission before I pull you off it. But I still need something from you today, I need a treat.&lt;br /&gt;The Henchman (David): Copy, I shall retrieve something from the gas station. I will not let you down!&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): I know you wont, or else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove to Texaco to get her some hot Cheetos and a powdered doughnuts for a snack. Tuesday came around and the anticipation was high, I was walking towards my trusty steed when the boss texted me, "Getting Doughnuts?" to what I replied "Yes, on my way" I was on a mission, not only for my sake but for the boss's sake as well. Knowing that her butter milk cravings were getting out of control I needed to accomplish this or else all would be lost. I drove up, I was determined to finish the task at hand with flying colors. I open the door and with a burst of machismo I said "I need a dozen" to what the girl said "OK, what would you like?" oh man I had been waiting for those words to reverberate from within my ear drums for almost 2 weeks and now it was here. "I would like... 4 raspberry ones" I say, so she grabs 4 of them. "OK, what else?" she asked, "I would like 4 apple fritters please" she starts monitoring the display, with disbelief I i closed my eyes and thought of a happy place where doughnuts never run out, where you can eat as much junk food as you want and never get fat, but that thought was disturbed by the worst thing I have heard in a good while. "We are actually out of apple fritters" she replayed. What?! no apple fritters? what is this? where am I? the twilight zone? this can't be, "No apple fritters? well do you have some in the back?" I say in a panic. "No I'm afraid we don't" she calmly responds, does she not care about my cravings? "OK what about 4 of the butter milk ones" I say, and again she starts looking for them. "Ah, no we are out of those as well"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you believe this? what was I to do? I stand there struck with a glare of disappointment, my mouth was wide open, as if I had just witnessed a murder or something horrible. "But those are the only ones I want" I respond, so she tells me with a smile "Well, would you like to place an order for tomorrow?". No I don't want to place an order for tomorrow! what are you mad?! I need my fix now woman!, and you don't have what I want, com on!. "Just cancel the order"I said and with a sad face I retreated back to my steed and called the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): Well, do you have them?&lt;br /&gt;The Henchman (David): Negatory, they are out&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): What?!&lt;br /&gt;The Henchman (David): Yes, they are out of fritters and butter milk&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): Well you are out of this one, I shall get them from some one else&lt;br /&gt;The Henchman (David): But from who?&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): I don't know, Albertsons?&lt;br /&gt;The Henchman (David): Are you kidding, once you have these everything else is garbage.&lt;br /&gt;The Boss (Jenny): Well Ill think of something, for the time being go back to the hide out. Ill see you when I'm done with work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to this mission impossible there is no happy ending, we have yet to eat goodness from the Provo Bakery, and its Thursday. I'm starting to itch a bit, but its OK because I shall try again on Saturday, one last attempt at completing this mission. You hear that world? I shall do this no matter what! stay tuned Until next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SabzwWrdzwI/AAAAAAAAAOo/TvZgkUWcxII/s1600-h/Donuts.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2988144056253391203?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2988144056253391203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2988144056253391203' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2988144056253391203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2988144056253391203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/mission-impossible.html' title='Mission Impossible'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SabzwWrdzwI/AAAAAAAAAOo/TvZgkUWcxII/s72-c/Donuts.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2461755025108128797</id><published>2009-02-24T11:50:00.014-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T14:13:07.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Pray for Strength</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRFFZZl61I/AAAAAAAAAN4/qXkEQBxXQXI/s1600-h/shyli.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306442219969178450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRFFZZl61I/AAAAAAAAAN4/qXkEQBxXQXI/s320/shyli.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "The Miniature Schnauzer is a breed&lt;a title="Dog breed" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dog_breed"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; of small dog&lt;a title="Dog" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dog"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; of the Schnauzer&lt;a title="Schnauzer" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schnauzer"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; type that originated in Germany in the mid-to-late 19th century. Miniature Schnauzers developed from crosses between the Standard Schnauzers and one or more smaller breeds such as the Poodle&lt;a title="Poodle" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poodle"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; or Affenpinscher&lt;a title="Affenpinscher" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Affenpinscher"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. The breed remains one of the most popular, and as of 2007 is the 11Th most popular breed in the U.S"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as Quoted by Wikipedia. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a picture of Shyli as a new born, she is adorable beyond words. My wife and I are so happy to have her and she is truly making Sammy a whole lot more active and happy. Let me take you back to the tale and the adventure it has been trying to get a puppy for Sammy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It all starts July 4Th, 2008, our neighbors the Wilmer's had 2 Mini Schnauzers, Bella the girl and Billy the boy. They had just had a litter of 4, and honestly I had not even been wanting to get another dog as with Sammy we had the perfect dog, he is 5 years old and so well behaved, he is well mannered and so calm. My friend Mitch gave him the name "The Butler" because he just comes and sits next to you just to make sure you are comfortable. Jenny her brother Brian, Sister Cristina, our Niece Lindsey and I were coming home from my sisters 4Th of July bash. We had one thing in our minds and that was some sweet Piedra Fria or Cold Stone as the white folk refer to it, so we stop by the house to drop Sammy off and to get some cash for our endeavors when we spot Jason Wilmer watering his front yard, I go over to say hello and ask him about the dogs, how they doing and if they had gotten rid of all the puppies, he said that they had one left, a girl. My niece heard this with her child bionic ears and yells out "Puppies!? I want to see the puppies!" so I asked him if he could bring her out so that she could get her vice taken care of. The following events took me by surprise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There we were sitting in the front yard waiting for Jason to comeback with the dog, when he finally returned he was caring this little black ball of fur, and I fell in love with her. I have always been a sucker for dogs and until Shyli I had never owned a puppy of my own. Lindsey is loving on her like any 9 year old would but there I was like a dog on heat holding back the urge to grab the puppy from her and run!. I remained calm and my wife was the next one to hold her and she says out loud as she is getting the dog "Aw its Bridget!" and I look at her like what? she just melted Jenny's heart, and I was happy because she had me too. I look at her and tell her, "We could get her if you want, it be nice to have a Friend for Sammy" She was contemplating the thought, we went as far as to take the dog for the night to see how Sammy would react to her, but when the time came to make the choice my wife and I decided it wasn't the right time for a puppy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time went on and I was so puppy sick, I just really wanted one, I would sit at work for hours looking at KSL dog adds. I eventually came to an arrangement with Jenny, we would wait 9 months and then for my birth day we would get one, to what I agreed but honestly 9 months was way long to ease my dog fix. I eventually found another Mini Schnauzer for real cheap, I told Jenny and again she had to talk me out of it as it was something we just did not need nor were able to afford. We changed the time from 9 months to till after we got a car as our old Ford Station Waggon "Sally" was giving out on us. Time moved on and October was upon us, we were the owners of a new car so as we had agreed we were in the clear to get a puppy. Not far from the first day of November Jason Wilmer comes up to say hello and to tell me that Bella is pregnant, I was so excited that I told Jenny right away. For sure the time had to be right, she wasn't due till late November, which actually turned to December and Finally on December 9Th the puppies were born. As a gesture of friendship the Wilmer's gave us the first Pick of the litter, so I let my wife have her pick, and she picket out the cutest girl, she was always shaking, so my wife named her Shyli, because she was Shy..... or so we thought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We brought Shyli home on the 23th of January, and we could not be any happier. She was so adorable, our first taste of what a baby might be like. I know she is just a dog and that a kid is much more work but if you think about it having a pet is just as hard as having kids, in no way am I comparing the two but I like to see it that way. Jenny wakes up at 3:30 am to take her potty every day, I come home for my lunch at 11 to let her out, we need to feed her 3 times a day and sometimes we come home to messes in her kennel. Its not an easy task and I can honestly say that at times she does get the best of me, but like all good things, it takes time, effort and a bit of work to get the best out of them, and she is a part of this family now. She is no longer that shy and shaky puppy, she is now an energetic and independent baby dog who just won't leave poor Sammy alone, she is always biting him so I gave her the nickname "The Piranha". She is a hand full at times but for the most part we love having her with us and even Sammy has warmed up to her antics. I shall try to keep my emotions calm as I need to be patient with her. I pray for strength.. Help me Cesar Millan! help me Barbara Woodhouse!, help me Paul Owens! please help me someone?...... but honest, with a face like that how could you stay mad at her?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRTiYSDe0I/AAAAAAAAAOA/Php2sopxd6I/s1600-h/IMG_2604.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306458111048121154" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRTiYSDe0I/AAAAAAAAAOA/Php2sopxd6I/s320/IMG_2604.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her First Bath&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRTqFy51tI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Xk6e9kNmRWQ/s1600-h/IMG_2597.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306458243524581074" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRTqFy51tI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Xk6e9kNmRWQ/s320/IMG_2597.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her First Time Home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRT8uF-_KI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/gE7JULLU-58/s1600-h/IMG_2602.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306458563579673762" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRT8uF-_KI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/gE7JULLU-58/s320/IMG_2602.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her Sleeping inside of Jenny's coat hoodie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2461755025108128797?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2461755025108128797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2461755025108128797' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2461755025108128797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2461755025108128797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/miniature-schnauzer-is-breed-of-small.html' title='I Pray for Strength'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaRFFZZl61I/AAAAAAAAAN4/qXkEQBxXQXI/s72-c/shyli.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-5850120233645778887</id><published>2009-02-23T19:58:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T06:44:43.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The art of forgiveness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaNigoxCIkI/AAAAAAAAANQ/nQrgX-N9saI/s1600-h/IMG_1622.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306193098810991170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaNigoxCIkI/AAAAAAAAANQ/nQrgX-N9saI/s320/IMG_1622.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;For the people who know me know that I am a die hard fan of the BYU football team, I just love the thrill of having a home football team that I can root for. If you live in Orem or Provo you know that since &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Bronco Mendenhall took over as coach the team has been getting better and better, thus making the tickets harder to buy, specially if you like to wait until game day like I used to. This is a story of love, of how the human heart can act in the worst of cases, of how one must learn to just laugh at life's hard moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had been a great year for the Cougars and I was able to score tickets for a few home games, I was dating Jennifer Young (now Jennifer Roura) and she was not a big football fan like I am, the closest she been to being a fan was in High School, she was a cheerleader for school and to her credit she was not familiar at all with football or its rules, so I took it upon myself to change that (if she was going to be dating this hunk of man, she sure as heck was going to learn to love my Cougars).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days were getting close to the end of the season and I was trying my hardest to keep up with the ticket purchases, I was just not used to having to fight for the right to own a 17 dollar piece of paper that gave me the right to have an uncomfortable bench all the way up in the nose bleeders. So I got in the habit of buying the tickets early at the Marriott Center. It was getting better to this point I had been to a couple of games so I decided that one more would be great. Jenny and I decided that we would go to one last game with her brother Brian, keep in mind that to this point Brian wasn't sold on the idea that I was going to be taking his baby sister away from him. So 2 week prior to the game we go and get the tickets and its all love man! I mean we got tickets and I was loving it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day of the game was upon us, Brian calls me and asks me if I know of anyone who would like 2 tickets to the game, so the first person I think of is my man Andres, so I say "yeah man, I think I know someone" So I call him up and he is like "you kidding right?, the game is sold out" I said "man you know I got's the hook up Dwag!" in my best effort to pretend I'm gangsta. Jenny and Brian come to my home and we take off to that fateful event that for all I know was a make or brake for our future life. I had been guarding the tickets like crazy, I had them in a white envelope in my jacket inner pocket the whole time and I was not about to take them off my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;We picked up the extra 2 tickets for my friend and his son and off we go to the circus which is finding parking for the game when it had already started, if you been you know that it is literal hell trying to find a spot. I was driving my Jeep and to find a spot for that car was not going to be easy, but I was up for the challenge. We finally get there and it is a mad house and if there is one thing I hate is not being able to find a parking spot when something sweet is waiting for me. We eventually found a spot but as It was a challenge to park, I handed Jenny my ticket and hers with out the envelope, as well as Andre's 2 other tickets, Brian had his as well. I finally parked the car after a few maneuvers and near misses of another car's bumper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On we go to the game, we start walking and the conversation is all great, laughter, love and joy but boy was that about to change. Andres lived in American Fork so he was just going to call us as soon as he got the stadium for his tickets. We had walked a good mile from where we had parked and I get the feeling to ask Jenny for the tickets, she grabs hers out of her coat pocket but she tells me that I have my ticket and the two extra ones also, my heart literally sunk to the pit of my stomach, my eyes got big and wide with disbelief, I retaliate "No baby, I gave them all to you when I was parking the car remember?" please say you do, I told myself. To this she starts remembering, "Oh yes you did" I was so glad to hear her say that, my heart beat was back to normal, my eyes shrunk down to their normal size. I began to smile again, but that smile faded when I saw her checking all of her pockets, jacket, pants, purse, nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know where they are baby" I was getting so angry inside that as I am writing I am getting sick to my stomach at how much something so little could anger me. She was beginning to see my frustration, the mood was down now, it was no longer a glorious day but a sad a dark one. A day we had been looking forward to for almost 2 weeks was now a dreaded situation, I was holding back so many emotions, and I am sure Jenny felt so bad and dumb that she had lost the tickets, the tickets to her boyfriends addiction. I was ready to yell out but I didn't want to make a scene, I told them Ill be back Ill go back to where we parked and maybe ill find them. On my way back I was talking to myself, asking myself "why did you give her the tickets?" If only I would have kept them like I had for 2 weeks none of this would be happening, but now it was to late, I found myself walking all the way back to the car scanning the floor for anything that resembled 3 BYU tickets, but no luck. I was hoping that I would be able to find them inside or around the car but again no such luck. I had been dealing with some anger issues and I let the situation get the best of me, I punched the fender of the car and gave it a dent that was there until a bigger dent hid it from sight when Jenny got in a car accident last year, but that's another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk back to where they were hoping to see them giving me the thumbs up, in despair I got no such response. I was so mad, but what could we do? only Jenny and Brian had tickets and I didn't. Jenny was feeling so bad and mad that she told me why don't you and Brian go and ill just go home, for some reason that made me mad because we had just lost 3 tickets!.... I was like No! that's dumb, not the best reaction from me, she saw the anger and that made her react to it the same way, she got her ghetto attitude tone and said, "I didn't mean for it to happen, and you ain't making this any easier on me!" I was so fed up I was like what ever!, we start walking to the stadium and Jenny starts walking with Brian in front of me, and then among all that anger and frustration I hear Brian like always trying to defuse the mood, to cut the tension. Laughing and playing with Jenny trying to make her feel better about the issue he said "Gonka, don't worry this could have happened to any one of us, just know that one day you can tell this story to your kids" I was just amazed that he could take such a bad situation and turn it in to something to tally different. My eyes were opened, I felt like such a moron for making the woman I love feel stupid, this is not what a boyfriend is supposed to do... right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I walked up to her and apologized for acting so dumb, the tickets were gone and there was nothing no one could do now but laugh. We eventually got in the stadium with the 2 tickets that were left, I called Andres and told him the bad news, he was disappointed but not mad. As for me I could hardly enjoy the game, I was so focused on how I made Jenny feel that I was overtaken by guilt. I learned that day that once someone forgives you the hardest thing to do is to forgive yourself. As time passed this proved to be the making point for our relationship, Brian saw that I was humble enough to apologize for being an idiot, and he embraced me as a brother. The Art of Forgiveness is a beautiful thing to have, I know that those tickets were meant to be lost, so that we could go through this right of passage if you will to see how much we truly loved and respected one another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-5850120233645778887?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/5850120233645778887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=5850120233645778887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5850120233645778887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5850120233645778887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/for-people-who-know-me-know-that-i-am.html' title='The art of forgiveness'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SaNigoxCIkI/AAAAAAAAANQ/nQrgX-N9saI/s72-c/IMG_1622.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-1855203102218663743</id><published>2009-02-20T09:15:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T10:33:48.598-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life of a ghost</title><content type='html'>Life as an Illegal Immigrant in the United States is something you might not label as glamorous, the constant fear of knowing that your job is not safe, that people can take advantage of you because you don't have any rights, its a hard thing to swallow. In a constant struggle with life you learn to make lemonade out of lemons hoping for that brake, that chance at something bigger or different. Living in Mexico City was a hard thing for my family, coming from a family of 6 children and 2 adults was not an easy task for my father to deal with, but somehow like millions of others he managed. We lived a good life, not full of luxuries but what we needed was always there for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother was an independent man form the go and he didn't see his life going anywhere living in a country who's government is so corrupted that the normal man can't afford to feed a family with a regular job, only working for the government and or being a corrupted cop is almost the only way to get ahead. He decided to take his life another rout, he left for what many people consider the American Dream, a life full of opportunities and riches far beyond that of his or her country could give. To an extent this is not far from the truth, most people come to this country and find wealth, not millionaire status or mansions but a humble life, working for their needs and wants, such luxuries that one could not achieve in their country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We followed my brother a few years latter, I was 10 years old and the year was 1993. My mother made a choice, to leave everything she had ever known to try and give her last 2 kids a better more productive life than the one they would have had living in Mexico. It all was a shocker to me, I mean I was fine living in Mexico near my father, and now I was thrust in to a life I didn't know, a language I was not that familiar with, but what could I do? I was 10 years old and therefor my life belonged to my mother, she was my protector and I had to do what she said. School didn't get any easier, as one may know kids are cruel, and there is no way around that, so when they see a flaw on someone they attack, and I had a major flaw, I was a new kid, a “wet back” (funny thing is that we actually flew in to this country legally) someone who did not belong there, I couldn't even speak the language. It was hard on me but I managed, I was placed in a class for language barriers called ESL or English as a Second Language course. To every one's surprise I picked up English in only 3 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As life went on I forgot for a moment that I was not a U.S. Citizen until the time came for me to get a job, oh boy that made me remember real quick. My first job was no problem, I worked at a car wash and was payed under the table (you get payed in cash so the government doesn't know you are working at all because no tax information is given) this was at the age of 14. Now, I was already braking the law because the legal age to work in California is 16 with a school permit. When the time came for a new job to come around I began applying everywhere, and the dreaded application process was one I didn't look forward to. Every field was ok to fill but there it was staring at me from a far, Social Security Number...... what do I do? What do I write in there? These were just a few of the many questions that came flying to my mind, I didn't know what to do so I would walk away or take my application to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I got older I got wiser, I bought a fake Social Security card with a fake number that for all I knew belonged to someone else. Again I was braking the law but what could I do? I needed a job to provide for myself, to help around the home with bills. I know what most people think, why don't you just become a legal citizen? why don't you fix your status? well if it was that easy don't you think that so many Illegal Immigrants would have become legal by now? trust me I did my homework, allot of times I asked myself, why can't I just apply for citizenship? I should so I called INS and found out what I needed to become a legal U.S. resident, I needed to either be sponsored by a family member.... Strike one. Be sponsored by work, but they had to prove that you were the only one that could do that job and working at McDonald's or Wendy's was not a hard task.... Strike two. Get married and have your spouse sponsor you, well here is a scenario I knew one day would happen but I was not about to ruin some poor girls life just for my benefit so that was out of the question.... Strike three Your OUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For many years I had a secret that none of my close friends knew about, none of my girlfriends knew about, I was like a superhero with a double identity but without the super powers to fix my problem. I eventually moved to Utah and left California behind, after many jobs lost because of my social not matching my name and or age, how embarrassing is that? "Yes we see here that your social isn't matching your records, its no problem just go to the social security office and get proof that this is your number and you can keep your job" I mean what do you say to that? "Ah yeah no problem, I'm not sure why this happened. I will get it fixed at once!.... ah by the way when can I get my check?" and like so many people I would walk away from a good job because I didn't have the right to be employed in the land of opportunity. But you develop thick skin because after a while loosing a good job becomes par of the routine that is life without rights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my story there is a happy ending I eventually met the woman of my dreams and got married, she embraced my secret identity and so did her family, full on. Within our first year of marriage we got my paper work done and today I can proudly say that I have rights, I have a voice, I'm no longer a ghost with no identity, I exist, but I am one out of a Million people with broken dreams, of struggles, of hardships, of wondering when their brake comes when they can have a voice, the right to say, I need more money!, the right to say You don't pay me enough! without being worried that the next time you see a big green truck with the acronym INS on the side will be your last step taken in a country that was built by Immigrants.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-1855203102218663743?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/1855203102218663743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=1855203102218663743' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/1855203102218663743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/1855203102218663743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-of-ghost.html' title='Life of a ghost'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3161105353949159448</id><published>2009-02-18T16:11:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T08:08:37.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Light of the World</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Darkness&lt;/b&gt; is the absence of &lt;span style="TEXT-DECORATION: underline"&gt;light&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what my life was covered with from about the age of 16 until I turned 21. Living in the sunny state of California was a trip, although is not as bad as movies and t.v. make it out to be it's still bad enough for people not wanting to live there, I grew up in a City called Lancaster, the high desert. Not a bad place to grow up if you ask me but that was back in the 90's. As time passed by the city like many others has grown, and with that growth population has deteriorated. Now I am not trying to talk bad about the place I once called home, but it has gotten worse over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many stories to tell about my adolescent years, but if I wrote them all down we would be here for days, so lets just do a quick summary of what it was, I was not one for school, I mean I'm smart but I just lacked the interest to get the grades I should have had. I hung out with the wrong crowd, when I say the wrong crowd I don't mean I hung out with killers or thugs, I just liked to hang out with the guys and girls who like to party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the same "friends" since 5Th grade and I was not one to make any changes, specially in high school where I could get my butt whipped in an instant. I didn't go to the best school in town so my expectations for a future were close to none, but none the less I graduated high school with allot of friend changes in the way, sticking to one friend, one who I could honestly call a good and true friend. With high school behind me I was ready to have fun, but I had been having fun since the age of 16, I'm not going to get in to much detail but I'm sure you can figure out what I'm talking about. Parties, alcohol, girls, and pot where mainly my interest. Not for long do, I didn't really like getting high, and the drama of dealing with a hang over got me off drinking quick, so my only vice if you could call it that was girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come from an LDS family, if you don't know what that means its Latter-day Saints. The world knows us as Mormons. But the real name of the church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I was raised to know right from wrong, good from bad and yet I still didn't agree with the views of the gospel. I always told myself that I knew there was a God, and I knew Jesus lived and there was a an evil in the world, and as long as I knew I was exempt from the rules, they didn't apply to me. So I did everything I was taught to be wrong. To my defense I was always contradicted as a child, you see my father was a devout Catholic who only converted to please my Mother (I think) and all of my brothers are not and weren't active members of the church, so all that was taught by my mother to be wrong such as masturbation, pornography, drinking, sex etc. was contradicted by my only male figures in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are taught in the gospel that we are given free will, and that is the one thing God will never take from us, I had and still have my free will and I chose to use it to the best of my abilities. I didn't go to church,I didn't need to. I was in with the big guy and he was OK with me messing around, oh but if trouble came knocking guess what was the first thing I did? oh yeah got on my knees and prayed to Heavenly Father just like I was taught to do. Now that's something, that as a kid who was exempt form the rules of life, I always managed to go back to the good old fashion way of asking for help. It got me through allot, pregnancies, fights, tests, job opportunities, dates. You name it I prayed for it, but once I got my answer or what I asked for (or so I thought) I would go back to my old ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing the way we look at life through worldly eyes, when we let everything around us dictate our life, the media, government, friends but once your eyes are opened to what really matters you begin a whole new life, this is what happened to me. In 2003 I made one of the most crucial decisions of my life, I moved to Orem Utah to live with my aunt and cousins. There I was, this naive punk wanna be thug fresh out of Lancaster California, getting thrown in to the "Mormon" capital of the world. It was hard at first, bouncing form job to job, making all the same mistakes I was making in California and what was worse, for the first time in my life I was away from my Family, all that I knew for so long was no longer there. You begin to appreciate what you had when its gone, there is no doubt about that. I struggled for months trying to keep a job and I was getting fed up, ready to go back to what I knew, my comfort zone. Until one day my aunt Martah said to me, don't give up, there is light at the end of the tunnel just wait and see. If in 3 months you don't see a change I will help you move back home. That gave me a boost in motivation, I worked as hard as I could but still failure, job to job, no income, and not to mention my personal life was the same that it was in California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin Kevin is an "RM" Return Missionary (in the church young men go to serve a 2 year mission, this consist of preaching the gospel to anyone who is willing to listen. Women also serve missions but theirs is only 18 months long, they are the guys and girls in bikes wearing suits with white shirts and modest dresses with a name tag, I'm sure you seen them but if you haven't, when you do, be nice to them and listen to their message it might just change your life) He had approached me several times before to talk to me about church and how it was the only way and blah blah blah, but this time I actually listened. I had run out of options and I needed something different in my life, something that could give me meaning, keep me in line, help me succeed in life. So I said OK, ill give it a try. Not short after I got a job at Dialogue Marketing, this is where my life truly took a turn for the better. I met a guy named Jordan who was also an "RM" nice guy, full of life and spark. Religion was a topic of non stop arguing like always and I was used to the same robotic answers, but one day this guy gave one of the most honest answers to a question that I have ever heard. He caught my attention and after work I asked more questions and he told me to come to church with him, I passed but the seed had been planted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after I was approached by him again and he asked me to come that Sunday as he was teaching class, I said I would try to make it. I asked my cousin if he would go with me and so him and his then girl friend (now his wife) went with me, and Jordan taught a beautiful class. I had never in my life paid attention in church, but he had my full and undivided attention. I was hooked, and after class was over he said one of the sweetest things to me. He told me that he had prepared 2 classes, one was design for me, and if I didn't show up he had prepared a totally different class. That touched me so much that I will never forget that day. To make a long story even longer I embraced the gospel like never before, this was a gift that I had my whole life but I never bothered to open it. The Gospel or "The Good News" has changed my life in ways that I never thought possible, and I continue to see improvement within me. I am a better person because of it and I owe it all to my Jesus Christ. Words can't describe the peace and love I feel inside, something that I never had and its all because of a few people who took the time to patiently wait for the right time to say something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is my testimony that God lives and he has a plan for all of us, Jesus is the Christ, he atoned for our sins. He is the light of the world and his Gospel has been restored on this earth through a young man named Joseph Smith Jr. Its our choice to listen, and its our duty to try and know. I say this in the name of Jesus the Christ, amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For more info on The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints please visit www.mormon.org&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3161105353949159448?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3161105353949159448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3161105353949159448' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3161105353949159448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3161105353949159448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/light-of-world.html' title='The Light of the World'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-860608204102413222</id><published>2009-02-04T12:59:00.011-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T14:34:30.911-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My personal Superman</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I don't know why I'm writing so many intimate details of my life but I feel like I don't talk about this enough to get the pain out. If I were granted another shot at life, if there was one thing I could change or do better, it would be helping my father out more than I did. The last Phone conversation we had he was half delusional, I told him how much I loved him. Knowing that his time was soon at hand, I came to realize what a loving man my father was, not perfect by any means but a loving one none the less. So many stories to tell but the only one in my mind right now is the last one I have of him. A sad one........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;My dad was a strong man, he stood about 5 11", a good 200 lbs, healthy as a horse. Ran like crazy every day, if I had to guess a good 3 to 4 miles. It had been along and rough road, full of hardships and pain, laughter and love. But like every road this one was coming to a bitter end. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;My dad like many people had made his fare share of mistakes and wrong choices, But none the less he was a good man. He came to visit us from Mexico about 2 times per year, once in April for my b-day and the other in December for Christmas. My hopes had diminished for him to move out to live with us in California. He had his life out in Mexico and even do he loved us, he would not give up his life in Mexico.Who could blame him it was all he knew. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;It was either November or December I don't remember all that great, I think I blocked out the times and dates. We went to the airport to pick my father up for the last time at LAX, I always looked forward to seeing him, embracing him as he walk towards us with that walk of his, he was not the greatest looking man but he had presence and he knew it. But this time was different, it was the first time I saw him after the many and torturous Kimo therapies he had gone through to kill the cancer that was invading him. He came out of the pick up exit and honest I didn't want to admit that my father, my hero, a man who always dressed so well, who walked tall now walked slowly as if every step he took was a painful one. He had a hat on, which was a bit odd to me because he never wore one, but he did this to hide his bald head, no longer having that curly salt and pepper hair on it. His face was not even as I remembered, swollen and puffy. The Kimo took a toll on him. Always tired and his voice was not the one I recalled as a child, or even the one from 2 years ago. His demeanor was low, his ego was shot and I felt that he had given up that great fight he put up for almost 3 years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;As we drove home I remember my brother snapping a picture of him, one he still has to this day. It was painful to see my dad in this condition, to the point that I didn't want to be around him too much because it killed me little by little. Its like seeing Superman getting his butt kicked by Doomsday to the point of death. It's not supposed to happen, my dad was supposed to live forever. We had hopped that he would get better, and latter I learned that he would have made a recovery but for one year.... one whole year the hospital gave him the wrong Kimo Therapy........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;We got together as a family one last time with almost every one there, my brother Victor and my sister Lilia were living in Mexico so minus them the whole family was there, I remember being at my sister Claudia's house for dinner and she made green Mole, this is a Mexican plate that my dad loved, but because of that sores in his mouth and throat he was not able to eat it, I remember sitting there watching him looking at the food, as he looked at his plate of steamed chicken, his eyes watering up. I don't know what was going through his mind at that exact moment but one can only imagine. One of the simple pleasures of life, one my dad enjoyed so much, now was something he couldn't do because of this damn disease!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;After dinner we all talked and the mood seemed not as tense or fragile, we now were more accepting of my fathers mortality, we expected this man to live well beyond his 80's but God had a different plan or task for him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Knowing that you are on the verge of death, as a father, the thing you want to do the most is to be around those you love, to amend burned bridges, to resolve any broken bonds or past issues. My dad talked to every one, and I guess he did it from oldest to youngest because I remember going out side to get some air and he followed after. We sat on the front yard. My sister had a little bench against the wall of her garage facing the yard. It was a clear night with a slight chill, I remember this because my dad had his hat on, and what looked like a turtle neck sweater was a gray scarf wrapped all the way up just bellow his nose, he also had on a black coat. He did his best to keep from catching a cold as his immune system was lower than ever. Alone we sat there staring at the giant sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;We started talking and like my dad always would, he asked me how I was doing with money, back then I made abut 6 to 7 dollars an hour so my checks never lasted, I told him I was OK and told him not to worry about me to which he took his wallet out and try to hand me his last 20 dollar bill, I swiftly rejected the offer and told him that he needed it more, and I honestly was hurting for money but as irresponsible as I was back then I would not take that money from him, if I couldn't help him I didn't want to take from him. To which he replayed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Before you would ask me for money to fill up your car, to buy food, and now you wont take my last $20?", &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"But dad I know that you don't have any money left and I don't want to take it from you"&lt;/strong&gt; I said, &lt;strong&gt;"Please take it"&lt;/strong&gt; he said as his eyes watered up and his voice which I barely recognized started to crack from emotion, I could tell that the fact that I wouldn't take his money hurt him, I once, not to long ago depended on him for gas and food, clothing and now I didn't want to take his money because he was broke, broke from all the medical expenses and medicine. There sat a broken man, knowing his time was near and he did the best he could to give what little he had to his last child. A child he loved so much he would do everything in his power to give him all he wanted and needed. I recall my mother telling me once, &lt;strong&gt;"When you were born you father forgot he had other children"&lt;/strong&gt; So how could I do this to him? he loved giving me everything, He looked at me once again and said &lt;strong&gt;"Take it"&lt;/strong&gt; so I did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;This was the last conversation I had with my father face to face, it went on for a bit, him talking to me about life and telling me how much he loved me, I would never see him again. But I remember him for who he was. About 8 months latter I was told that he had passed away, I felt so bad, I had so much I wanted to tell him but couldn't, he was gone and I never would forgive myself for not being there for him when he needed me most. About 2 months after his death I had a dream, I was sleeping and as always he would come and sit on the edge of my bead to stare at me and wait till I opened my eyes to greet me. He was back to normal, just how I remembered him, strong with a head full of hair, with his swagger back, no traces of Kimo, I hugged him so hard I began to cry... &lt;strong&gt;"I love you so much dad, I miss you like crazy, I am so sorry for not calling as much as I should, I need you"&lt;/strong&gt; he told me it was OK, that he loved me and that he was alright, no more pain. I woke up crying like a baby, I knew that God had let me say good by to my Hero, my Superman, for one last time...... I will see him again but not yet, not yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;In loving memory of my father&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Jose Joaquin Roura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-860608204102413222?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/860608204102413222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=860608204102413222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/860608204102413222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/860608204102413222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-personal-superman.html' title='My personal Superman'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8941230268690557287</id><published>2009-02-03T06:29:00.016-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T08:56:44.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sammy vs Goliath</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;This is a disclaimer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Now I am not an animal beater but as I have learned my culture tends to discipline pets (dogs) by hitting them, nothing worth &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;PETA's&lt;/span&gt; time but still that is the way we did it in Mexico and well we live here now so it has rubbed off. I love our 2 dogs to death, not as much as I love my wife but I do love them. I don't hit anymore but I thought it would be funny to tell this story but I wanted to explain my actions first. (Please don't judge me)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that out the way lets Begin, It was a hot summer day in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Orem&lt;/span&gt; Utah, the year was 2005 and I was having a hankering for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DQ's&lt;/span&gt; blizzards that year, and so as I did almost every day I went and got a Cherry Chocolate Love blizzard, oh my, my mouth is watering as we speak. i got home and I plastered my sweet rear to the couch and turned the TV on to enjoy this amazing treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was getting acquainted with my treat my mother who I may add had not driven for about 25 to 30 years or more, was finally getting over her personal fears of driving. So she took my 2 nephews to scouts in my sisters Pathfinder. There I am shoving each spoon full of love in my...... wait let me reword that..... ah, I was eating my blizzard, how bout that? OK so I'm eating and all the sudden the door slams open, its my mother freaking out, I don't know whats going on but I try to get her to speak, she tells me she just crashed the car in to the neighbors yard so we race out side to check out the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets rewind, as I was getting comfy on the couch, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;madre&lt;/span&gt; (that's Spanish for mom, just for your gee whiz collection) was driving to scouts, now both of my nephews were sitting in the back and no one was on the passenger side, back then we lived in my aunt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Martah's&lt;/span&gt; basement and her house is right on the corner, her neighbor across the street from us is a man by the name of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Fillipo&lt;/span&gt;, he is one of the nicest people I have ever known. As my aunts house his house is also the corner house of the street, but his house has a white picket fence... yeah I kid you not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;madre&lt;/span&gt;" was making a right hand turn on the corner's stop, and as she was doing so the passenger door swung open, all this happen with in seconds. My nephew Danny yells at my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;madre&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Bita&lt;/span&gt; (that's the kids name for their grandma, its a long story) the door is open!" keep in mind this is happening during my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;madres&lt;/span&gt; attempt to turn right on to the street, as she hears this she freaks out and reaches out to get the door behind her...... not realizing that the door that was open was the passenger door. Any experienced driver would know or react this way as well but the difference between them and my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;madre&lt;/span&gt; is that they would take their foot off the gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With her torso turned towards the back and the foot on the gas my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;madres&lt;/span&gt; attempt at saving her nephews life was stopped by a big menacing white picket fence, the car ran straight in to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Fillipos&lt;/span&gt; front yard. I hope I made a good visual for you. Now again an experienced driver would have done things different, but my mom was not one yet. So she did what any Mexican woman would do, she put the car in reverse and got back on the horse, sort of. She told her self that if she didn't keep driving she would never do it again. She was in a similar car accident years back, but the target was a tree and not a perfect white picket fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She drove to drop the kids off, almost as a woman on a mission, badly wounded and gasping for the strength to finish that mission. Both of my nephews were scared and I'm sure wanting to break free of the grasp of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;madre's&lt;/span&gt; determined will to finish her mission. She made it to church and back very slowly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so back to were we left off, there I was staring at a 5 foot 4" woman, shaking in panic. I calmed her as best as I could, letting her know that this stuff happens to every one...... i had to tell her that. We walked outside to look at the damage and to talk to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Fillipo&lt;/span&gt; as my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;madre&lt;/span&gt; neglected to let the fence owner know, "Well hello there, lovely day ain't it? oh by the way I just drove 2 tons worth of car in to your front yard, and the fence was in my way, sorry?" Now the car was OK, just a bent fender, and scratches all over the passenger door, that to be honest looked like a painting of the mountains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talk to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Fillipo&lt;/span&gt; and apologize for what happened, and just like him to say "Is your mom OK? well that's all that matters to me. I'm sure this can be fixed." and that was that, we didn't involve our insurance as this might of made it go a bit higher, so I had to call around to find the cheapest fence service to repair the issue. This ended up costing my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;madre&lt;/span&gt; about 400 dollars. But she was just relieved that her mission was completed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walk back towards the house, by this time joking about what just transpired. So I can paint a picture of the next few seconds, I have to describe how the house was arranged. Since we lived in a basement apartment you walk in trough the kitchen, which is connected to a living room, the way it was laid out, the couch was against the wall and you would see it as soon as you walked in. The TV right in front of it against the other wall. Then the hallway would stretch, with 3 doors on your left hand side, the first is the laundry room which is always closed, then followed the bathroom, where our miniature schnauzer Sammy resided, and after that was my room. Right across my room was my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;madre's&lt;/span&gt; room which she shared with my sister (this being before she was married) and the last door in the small basement was my nephews room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we walk back home I start to remember my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;DQ&lt;/span&gt; Blizzard that awaited me inside, it was hot and the stress that we just went trough brought my sweet tooth back with a vengeance. started to salivate a bit and start dreaming of what was about to happen, when I walk in to my surprise I catch Sammy on top of the couch, his Heine legs stretched out and his other half on top of the TV dinner table we had (which was not a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; dinner table at all but a regular folding table with a plastic top and legs made out of steel), enjoying that delicious treat just as much or even more than I was a few minutes ago. As I realize what was unfolding in front of my eyes, Sammy looks up at us with a snout full of ice cream with a look of panic as if to say "Oh! I know what this looks like, but I assure you that it was like this when I got here, as a matter of fact it was Rocco (my aunts spotted chihuahua that resided upstairs) and I scared him away, so I figured I check out your Blizzard to make sure he didn't eat it all" I stare at him for what seemed like forever and yell out "Sammy!" I take off after him hellbent on beating him to a pulp, he saw the fire in my eyes and jumped off the couch and booked it towards the bathroom, his safe Haven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chased him inside and was able to get a kick on his rear but he eluded all of my other attempts, he jumped in the bathtub and as I closed in on him he jumped out, it was like he was fighting for his life being chased by Jaws himself. So off to the scene of the crime again, I chased him for a few seconds until I was able to corner him against the couch and the legs of the fake TV dinner table. It was like watching a Rocky movie in which I played the part of Apollo "The Master of Disaster," "The King of Sting," "The Count of Monte &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Fisto&lt;/span&gt;"Creed and he was Rocky "The Italian Stallion" Balboa. I put up my fist ready to bash his face in and so he proceed to put his paws up as to say "OK you don't believe me, fine lets do this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I throw my first devastating blow towards his snout and what does he do? like the pro boxer he is, he bobs his head to his right, my left and I hit the metal leg of the table bruising my hand in the process, I'm sure he was laughing inside and so was my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;madre&lt;/span&gt;, because as all of this unfolded she was still standing in the kitchen amused and horrified at the same time. To make a long story short I ended up wining the bout by knockout and had to throw my beloved blizzard away. That day I learned a lesson, never go toe to toe with a Miniature Schnauzer bent on staying alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as time went on I never again left my Blizzards unsupervised and Sammy and I became best friends. Now my wife and I spoil the poo out of him, we went as far a buying him a wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. I don't hit him anymore and I don't condone animal cruelty. Just thought I state that again. Sorry PETA, and sorry Sammy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Sammy 3 years after that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;unforgettable&lt;/span&gt; bout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYhe_r7sD4I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Li-HQWM46pg/s1600-h/IMG_2437.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298589409819234178" style="WIDTH: 354px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYhe_r7sD4I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Li-HQWM46pg/s320/IMG_2437.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8941230268690557287?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8941230268690557287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8941230268690557287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8941230268690557287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8941230268690557287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2009/02/sammy-vs-david.html' title='Sammy vs Goliath'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYhe_r7sD4I/AAAAAAAAAHw/Li-HQWM46pg/s72-c/IMG_2437.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-5349491479107719943</id><published>2008-10-31T14:00:00.016-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T10:21:58.777-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Magical Poo....</title><content type='html'>What a way to begin one of the most meaningful day's of my life. This is the story of how I proposed to my wife, it was sure an amazing day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The day was November 9Th, a Friday. I was just getting out of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WAMU&lt;/span&gt; from depositing my pay check and I had some time to burn before my lunch was over, so I walked over to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Orem&lt;/span&gt; mall. There I was walking the mall and I walked over to the Jewelry store to check out prices for my then girlfriends Christmas present. I was already shopping for a weeding ring to propose with but do to low funds ( this is the outcome of working at a low paying job... and being Mexican) I was not able to find the right one, and the one that I did find was the size of a grain of sand... or salt.... or mustard seed. Small, and expensive diamond. So I just happened to ask how much the weeding rings were and the guy shows me one that was half off. As he shows me the ring I'm thinking that it's going to be like the size of a small crumb of bread but oh was I wrong..... OK well it wasn't huge but it was an OK size....... =I.... THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ahahahahaha&lt;/span&gt;. ahem. Sorry couldn't help my self. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So for the prize of the rock that I was looking at before I could buy this one and still have enough to buy a build-a-bear (Ill explain latter). So I get anxious and I buy it. I had shivers and clammy hands but I had the ring. Now it had not register in my head until now. I was about to pop the question. So I call the restaurant I had made the reservation with for December when I was originally going to ask her and I push it up to the 13Th of this month, it was that Tuesday! So all the things I had plan on doing in a month, I had to do in a week end. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday November 10Th, 2007:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I'm sitting at work and and my lunch is about to happen, I had a coupon for Build-a-Bear. I went there for my lunch. Now the plan was to have the bear ask the question for me, oh yeah I am that slick. I picked out an outfit, jeans, chucks, collar shirt with a vest. Stylish just like me. I got a voice box for it and I recorded the message... "I love you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;BooBoo&lt;/span&gt;, will you marry me?".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunday November 11Th, 2007:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm old fashion and so is my wife, and if I didn't talk to her brother who in this case is like her father she would have been a bit angry.... OK maybe not angry but disappointed. So I got to have a one on one with Brian, and there I am balling my eyes out, telling him why I love his baby sister whom he loves so much, and he just let's me know that he is happy for us and he would Love to have me as a brother. Big chip off my shoulder. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lets skip Monday because nothing happened that day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tuesday November 13Th, 2007:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The big day, man time almost stood still at work. This day Dragged, I was just so ready to get over with that time was not moving at all. The day was cloudy and a bit cold. Now I prayed, literally for it not to rain. (keep reading) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I pick her up at school, and we head off to Sandy, I drive up to this restaurant called La &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Caille&lt;/span&gt;. Now if you ever been to this place it is amazing! I recommend it to anyone who is willing to spend an arm and a leg. She was breathless, and so was I. As we wait for our waitress to be with us my wife is so nervous that she spills watter all over the table, so they move us to an even better table. We order our food, she gets the Sirloin and I got the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Filet&lt;/span&gt; Mignon. This plate was the size of almost 2 scoops of ice cream, not big at all. But man It was the best damn peace of meat I have ever had. After the dreamy dinner we head over to Temple Square, and on we go to the final stages of my plan. Horse carriage, Teddy bear, and ring. All things accounted for. We get on and by this time she is tearing up but no crying, and her hands were clammy. She knew it was coming, so we take the romantic ride, and right before I give her the bear the horse takes a dump, it smelled so bad but it was now or never.... with the smell of horse poo still burning in the nostrils, I hand her the bear, she presses the hand and as she is listening to it I have the ring out with a huge grin. "So, will you?" I say, (keep in mind that I have never seen my wife cry to that point, and as a guy you expect the girl to ball her guts put, but no she just has a huge &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;smile&lt;/span&gt;).... jumping up and down, big smile she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;said&lt;/span&gt; YES!. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Tha's&lt;/span&gt; is how I asked her.... hope you enjoyed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264479718681798482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8waWdG51I/AAAAAAAAAE4/B2yok_ZhKTQ/s320/IMG_1778.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264479915681567042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8wl0Vg0UI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Ra7Kdab8CEk/s320/IMG_1779.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264480044672678066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8wtU3Y-LI/AAAAAAAAAFI/6iI-F4GlDbE/s320/IMG_1783.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264480534149122034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8xJ0Tqx_I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/QM0hTasIgmo/s320/IMG_1813.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264480679770772578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8xSSyk1GI/AAAAAAAAAFY/nFrK7lNP8rA/s320/IMG_1820.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264480845803843138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8xb9T8bkI/AAAAAAAAAFg/PXk60Nx7cwg/s320/IMG_1824.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264481216056934578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8xxgnKQLI/AAAAAAAAAFw/nBWWCEHtCFs/s320/IMG_1828.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264481032316104098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8xm0H7raI/AAAAAAAAAFo/5gIXBdioRuU/s320/IMG_1829.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264481411435605986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8x84dEL-I/AAAAAAAAAF4/aMLQaux-avo/s320/IMG_1831.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-5349491479107719943?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/5349491479107719943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=5349491479107719943' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5349491479107719943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/5349491479107719943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/10/magical-poo.html' title='The Magical Poo....'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SQ8waWdG51I/AAAAAAAAAE4/B2yok_ZhKTQ/s72-c/IMG_1778.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8652940882963379459</id><published>2008-10-30T14:32:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T14:36:19.648-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Comming....</title><content type='html'>So I was sitting around and I looked at my Blog. Man can you believe that I haven't written anything since June!&lt;br /&gt;Well to all those of you who are like... " Yo man what the crap? write some blogs dude!" Well let me tell you  what, I shall write one soon. This one does not count, this is just a warning or a sign of The Coming............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay Tuned&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8652940882963379459?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8652940882963379459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8652940882963379459' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8652940882963379459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8652940882963379459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/10/comming.html' title='The Comming....'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-881809437802825231</id><published>2008-06-18T10:47:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T13:07:06.909-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The splinter of love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213294612667764306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 167px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="196" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SFlX1DmFDlI/AAAAAAAAAEM/3XNyn4PmA5s/s200/IMG_2236.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;"Ouch!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is the first thought that registered in my mind...... well more like holy s$%#^&amp;amp; but we leave that out for my younger audience, got to keep it PG y'all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any who this story begins One year ago on June 13Th 2007, it was a sunny Wednesday afternoon and here I was a bit late for a date with my future wife. (yeah great way to start things off right) So I'm driving along state and I start to think if I'm missing anything... well lets make a check list shall we.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hair.... check&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chap stick..... check&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fresh breath and killer looks.... check and DOUBLE CHECK&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gum.... check&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well it all seems in order....... ah crap!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Flowers.... not checked&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As soon as this thought registers in my pea brain I swerve right in to the Albertson's parking lot cutting off and old lady driving a Caddy (she gave me the finger). I almost forgot the most important part of the date besides the girl.... yeah. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I pull up to her house after the flower run, so I being the Casanova that I am, I leave the flowers on the seat so that she can find them there, so we hug and we start walking to the car and I start walking around the from to my door, I just happen to glance at her from the corner of my eye and I see her standing in front of the door with her arms crossed and I am sure that she is thinking "Fool who do you think you is? you better come back here and open my door before I walk back inside!" now to all those who don't know my wife, she is a bit... a what's the word.... GHETTO!. So for all those who know her I am sure you can just picture her right about now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I run back towards her and with a stupid nervous grin I open her door (David's points for the date so far: -10) That is until she saw what was on the seat waiting for her.... a bouquet of flowers. (David's points for the date so far: +20) Oh yeah!. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On our way to start this wonderful date, so I bought a pint of Ice Cream so that we can take it up to Sun Dance in the Canyon, we chilled for a while getting to know one another. Now if you know me, you know that I am a bold person, specially when on a date. So my bold David self came out and I took her hand, now you are thinking "No big deal, her hand? com on man!" but then you don't know my wife because at this point in her life, holding hands was a big deal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was glad she didn't ghetto slap me by this time, so far so good.... lets get to the check list&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step one: Hold her hand... check&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The drive down was interesting, we talked a bit more on a personal level. We pull up to a nice little place called Magleby's. So I get a table outside and we have a nice little dinner with the sun set right in front of us. That's right check list time again!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step two: Romantic Dinner with dramatic effect..... check and done!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By now she should be mucho in to me right? well I thought she was, we walk a bit around the area and it is one of the best dates I had in a long time. After the nice walk I ask her if she would like to look at my pictures, so on we go to my house so that she can see my artistic eye. Sitting in my living room looking at pictures of the fam I get bold and I go in for a Smooch.... Oh you know what time it is again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step Three: Seal the night with a wet one..... not checked?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I'm pulling in for a lip landing she turns her face around and totally rejects me! (the nerve on this woman, does she not realize that I am desirable?) That's what's going trough my mind but she with her lovely eyes looks at me after she rejected this and said. "I can't kiss you because the next person I kiss will be my future husband" So you can imagine my reaction.... I felt dumb but hey it was totally worth it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here we are, one year later and guess what, we kissed. Maybe not that night but eventually we did. So back to the Ouch thought, for our one year since we first dated I took her on the same date, but I wore flip flops and I got a splinter stuck in my footsie so I ouch ed my foot and I hope that ties this whole story together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now for one last time It's check list time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step four: keep taking her out on magical dates..... check&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step five: fall in love with her..... oh big check&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step six: ask her to marry you... check &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step seven: MR &amp;amp; Mrs Roura... DOUBLE CHECK!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                THE END.... for now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;check out our pics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213295633990279570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SFlYwgUV4ZI/AAAAAAAAAEs/3NHv2zego54/s320/IMG_2235.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213293518306344450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SFlW1Wx-_gI/AAAAAAAAAEE/EMfEWCUE2dg/s320/IMG_2237.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213294789383107730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SFlX_V6TNJI/AAAAAAAAAEU/2-AJhnVzx-E/s200/IMG_2230.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213294971898149026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SFlYJ91RuKI/AAAAAAAAAEc/l73eRymAoYI/s200/IMG_2232.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213295375729768946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SFlYheOPOfI/AAAAAAAAAEk/PCFtOqTAnG0/s320/IMG_2233.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-881809437802825231?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/881809437802825231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=881809437802825231' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/881809437802825231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/881809437802825231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/ouch-this-is-first-thought-that.html' title='The splinter of love'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SFlX1DmFDlI/AAAAAAAAAEM/3XNyn4PmA5s/s72-c/IMG_2236.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-8936758255509216684</id><published>2008-06-09T14:51:00.013-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T15:25:18.785-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Infomercial Style</title><content type='html'>Have you ever sat and wondered what the luxurious life of a call center rep would be like?&lt;br /&gt;Well wonder no more!, for the low low price of $10.25 and your life you too can find out what the rage is all about!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Work with experienced people:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209988993044147794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2ZYq4XblI/AAAAAAAAADM/YgckwONrovY/s400/IMG_2218.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Work Flexible Hours:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209990336315623730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2am29PiTI/AAAAAAAAADU/iIGYvzuOX8Y/s320/IMG_2221.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best entertainment anywhere:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209990826266324674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2bDYKl7sI/AAAAAAAAADc/zWTAKIqy_5Q/s320/IMG_2217.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Enjoy state of the art facilities:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209991797141986626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2b749Y3UI/AAAAAAAAADk/NUiC6f3IV34/s320/IMG_2220.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Take the pleasure of getting your own company car:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209992362957952210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2cc0ybVNI/AAAAAAAAADs/ja_5grVhcYg/s320/IMG_2222.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So stop thinking so hard about it and sign your life over to us.... I mean be part of our great team of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Dialoguers&lt;/span&gt; and enjoy your own office with a great view:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209992969062228978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2dAGs8o_I/AAAAAAAAAD0/rA1xAtIxeIE/s320/IMG_2219.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Act now and we will throw an extra shot of Mitch's calves for FREE!!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209993860510132834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2dz_msKmI/AAAAAAAAAD8/WWJQwwDWydA/s320/IMG_2216.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can you spell Success? well neither can we but hey who cares!..... we don't require a high school degree!... So stop waiting for life to take you somewhere when you can go nowhere fast. Call now 801-229-2292 and ask for Marci.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-8936758255509216684?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/8936758255509216684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=8936758255509216684' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8936758255509216684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/8936758255509216684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/infomercial-style.html' title='Infomercial Style'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SE2ZYq4XblI/AAAAAAAAADM/YgckwONrovY/s72-c/IMG_2218.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2792650287327650395</id><published>2008-06-06T11:26:00.012-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T14:06:09.666-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking back at the future</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEl0fI69jpI/AAAAAAAAACs/YUvU7b9c5D0/s1600-h/P1010123.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208822522350243474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="229" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEl0fI69jpI/AAAAAAAAACs/YUvU7b9c5D0/s200/P1010123.JPG" width="162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "The name is Roura... Jennifer Roura." &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what my wife tells people when they ask her for her name giving this look to them (or at least she does in my dreams). Ala James Bond, without the martini. Well this one is for the wife, or as I call her my Boo Boo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The following account is as I remember it, but according to my wife I hit on her first, you be the judge:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thursday&lt;/strong&gt; morning, I walked in to Jason's Deli looking for some b-fast. And there she was, looking all cute with her glasses and curly lion mess of hair. With my suave walk and talk I ask for some food and she starts hitting on me!... the nerve on this one I think, I am not a piece of meat, but OK this does not happen often so I shall flow with it. She starts telling me that I look familiar and that she has seen me before, to what I respond "well it must be my Hollywood face" (com on! she was so hitting on me) So that same day I tell my good Friend Jesus about this happening so we decide to go there for lunch, so this time she calls me by name and starts flirting again, or so I think. So we leave and I ask my friend, "so did you see that? or is it just me?" he said "well man she was either flirting or she is like us, just a real friendly person" Well the bug had been put in me and was not letting up until I asked her for her number, so I did what any man would and gave her my number for her to call me. What? don't you judge me! there is a good reason behind that OK.... ill get to it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday&lt;/strong&gt; came around and I was craving some Jason's, now keep in mind that I don't even like Jason's plus its way expensive but hey for my future wife anything was possible. So i go in there hoping for some more flirting but she was not there. So I wait for Monday to get my "flirt on".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monday &lt;/strong&gt;finally the week end was over and I had my chance to flirt it up with a girl at Jason's Deli. To this excitement there was an obstacle to overcome, I had one of the most Delicious treats ever created by man! a Costco Blue Berry Muffin, and I am not one for trashing food. So what was holding me up? well I didn't want to just walk in and say hey I need your number but I'm not buying any food. No that would be cheap and maybe I could get her in trouble with her boss. So I gave away my Muffin Oh did that hurt but it was worth it. So on to Jason's to talk to this girl. I show up like Casanova on a mission, but I don't see her..... I Begin to get discouraged and ready to buy some food that I didn't even want (Oh sweet Muffin, what have I done?) so I walk to the cashier to order and to my astonishment there she was, she was wearing a different shirt than from when I first saw her. So I start grinning like an Idiot, "well hello there David" she tells me, I was amazed that she knew my name. So I Begin my conquest, but I can't remember her name.... so I take a look at her name tag "hey Jennifer" I shot back at her un squinting my eyes away from her chest, " I need some food, sweet pastry that is what I am craving" as she showed me the menu I look at her and tell her... get ready because this might blow you away. "I have to tell you something, I had a muffin today but I gave it away so that I could come and see you" I promise she turned red, and I thinking and hopping that that wasn't to bold of me I return fire, "I hope that's not bold of me to say" to what she responded "No no I actually think that's really sweet!" so I had made it, now how should I ask her for her number?, her boss was right there so I just walked away to sit and wait, she did as well so I start looking like a moron for a peace of paper to write my number down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time she came back I handed her my number as I said, "I don't usually do this but here is my number, I would ask for yours but I don't want to get you in trouble. SO please call me and Ill ask for your number OK?" to this she takes it and said "Yes".... and as they say in the movies "The Rest is History".... .... &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208849934569007970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="400" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEmNavZNa2I/AAAAAAAAADE/Bvo9kUL1XDU/s400/David+and+Jen+Feb+9+2008+(10).JPG" width="352" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEmLtcRPADI/AAAAAAAAAC0/0XU79EtdKhE/s1600-h/David+and+Jen+Feb+9+2008+(10).JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2792650287327650395?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2792650287327650395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2792650287327650395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2792650287327650395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2792650287327650395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/looking-back-to-future.html' title='Looking back at the future'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEl0fI69jpI/AAAAAAAAACs/YUvU7b9c5D0/s72-c/P1010123.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-6543680960556431410</id><published>2008-06-05T10:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T13:25:23.081-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thats Mr. Shoe Queer to you!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEgdyamwScI/AAAAAAAAACc/xHBjLQD7CPE/s1600-h/all.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208445721026513346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEgdyamwScI/AAAAAAAAACc/xHBjLQD7CPE/s400/all.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So its no secret, I love shoes. So much that I have a closet full of them and with that I also have a unique nickname given to me by one of my co workers, this being such nickname: David "the shoe Queer" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Roura&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; Maybe not the best nickname but hey I am queer for shoes (thanks Ian, by the way he wears his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;girl&lt;/span&gt; friends pants). I have about 29 pairs but keep in mind that I have give about 20 pairs away. So my collection was up there. I just wanted to devote this worthless blog to my love of Jordan's or as my hood self refers to them, my J's (yes this explains my screen name)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this is a poster of all the J's He (He, being Michael Jordan) wore during his Bull playing days except the 15's. These were released after he retired in 1999. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;So far&lt;/span&gt; I only got 5 of them but I shall with time gather more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the best selling shoe of all time and I am a proud owner of them. So where am I going with this blog? you ask, well I don't know but I just felt like writing about my love for J's specially the 12's, my very favorite (have them in black and white by the way).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till next time, this is David the shoe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;quee&lt;/span&gt;. ..&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ah&lt;/span&gt;... i mean David &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Roura&lt;/span&gt;... this is David Roura *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ahem&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;(I hate you Ian)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-6543680960556431410?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/6543680960556431410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=6543680960556431410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/6543680960556431410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/6543680960556431410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/thats-mr-shoe-queer-to-you.html' title='Thats Mr. Shoe Queer to you!'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEgdyamwScI/AAAAAAAAACc/xHBjLQD7CPE/s72-c/all.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-1058815560041577491</id><published>2008-06-04T13:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T10:17:51.978-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How to save a life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEbr79GqYEI/AAAAAAAAACE/kWWQ-1gVkO0/s1600-h/455px-Book_of_Mormon_English_Missionary_Edition_Soft_Cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208109434347872322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEbr79GqYEI/AAAAAAAAACE/kWWQ-1gVkO0/s200/455px-Book_of_Mormon_English_Missionary_Edition_Soft_Cover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So this is the greatest book I have ever read in my life, and I haven't read many books but by all this one is the best book ever. So many stories that actually happened, nothing made up from some ones mind (not that fiction is bad or lame but we all need a little fact now and then) with that said, please don't mistake this for just another book. No no no no... this is scripture, another testament of Jesus Christ, so please don't shelf this with another Dan Brown thriller, this is actual words from Prophets of the past, true accounts of Christ and his Gospel. Just read it and ask if you don't think this is true.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So a bit of a background on the matter, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and have been one my whole life. Now my family was not the most active, picture the Brady Bunch from Mexico. My dad (a Catholic) my Mother (LDS) 3 brothers (one Catholic and the other 2 LDS) and 3 sisters (1 Catholic the other 2 LDS) and I, and now out off all the bunch only 3 of us are active, .y 2 sisters and I, and only my sister and I are the only ones who are sealed in the temple for time and all eternity with our spouses. So long story short, I grew up with great morals but decided not to follow them. I went through life making dumb choices and got in trouble here and there but thank God, nothing major came about it. I eventually turned it around and actually became a very spiritual person if I may say so my self. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My life was saved by God, and a blue book given to me by Jordan McCormick, this is what made this possible. Many other people played a big role in this change but mainly that book has been my key stone. The key stone of our religion, read it and you will see what I mean.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-1058815560041577491?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/1058815560041577491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=1058815560041577491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/1058815560041577491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/1058815560041577491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/how-to-save-life.html' title='How to save a life.'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEbr79GqYEI/AAAAAAAAACE/kWWQ-1gVkO0/s72-c/455px-Book_of_Mormon_English_Missionary_Edition_Soft_Cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-324343736835062811</id><published>2008-06-03T13:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T13:33:30.543-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Body for Life</title><content type='html'>Being fat is not fun, and going from 170 lbs to 209 lbs in a span of 5 years may not seem like much to some but to me it seem like allot. Now please keep in mind that I grew up a scrawny thin and lanky kid and some how morphed in to this Moob (short for Man Boob) having belly shaking stretch mark holder man. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now my wife loves me for me, and she some how thinks I am a sexy man, now I am humble and modest but I can't disagree with her on that one, I am one fine piece of meat..... loaf! I can't stand being big... now please know that I am not obese and in no way am I making fun of people who have weight problems, but this is a big deal to me so what am I doing to resolve this issue you ask? Well I am on this eating regimen called the "Body for Life Diet". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The key to this is to eat 6 small meals per day every 2 to 3 hours. You have breakfast, then a snack, then lunch and so on and so forth. No big deal right? well yes big deal, those meals need to be portioned out, fist size to be exact. Now I am an eater and I love me some food, but I have to eat small meals so i scrape for the crumbs, on top of that you must exercise regularly, so I pedal to work from home (about 6 miles round trip) and going... OK trying to hit the gym at least 3 times per week. It is now June 3Th and I have been on this diet for about..... ah give or take..... 2 weeks, and no results. But hey I feel great, not like a big fat pig who stuffs his mouth till he can't eat no more.... in a Homer Simpson kind of way saying the word's "Must.... Keep..... Eating!...." So far My Body for Life is looking good and I have a long way to go but my wife keeps me in check so I don't just fear fat but also the wrath of the wife (Sorry Hun that was just for the dramatic effect.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So till next time, when I'm 30 lbs lighter... or heavier. We shall see. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who will I look like? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207739199577022482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEWbNdGqYBI/AAAAAAAAABs/r8y7hzHahhk/s200/754px-Overweight_biker.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This guy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207739452980092962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEWbcNGqYCI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Mui0chrt9TE/s200/Nbodybuilder.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This guy?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207739611893882930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEWbldGqYDI/AAAAAAAAAB8/z5IDcGr0FJo/s200/200px-Soldier_running_in_water.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or this guy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-324343736835062811?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/324343736835062811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=324343736835062811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/324343736835062811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/324343736835062811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-body-for-life.html' title='My Body for Life'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEWbNdGqYBI/AAAAAAAAABs/r8y7hzHahhk/s72-c/754px-Overweight_biker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-2916982169293512093</id><published>2008-06-02T13:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T14:19:54.063-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My stolen dream.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SERLFtGqYAI/AAAAAAAAABk/W09lTxXrXsM/s1600-h/My_Banshee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207369630526103554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SERLFtGqYAI/AAAAAAAAABk/W09lTxXrXsM/s200/My_Banshee.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though this is not a picture of my banshee, this is an accurate picture of what my banshee looked like. Just replace the yellow with black and the grey with red, and alakazam! we have David's stolen 1999 Banshee. So were to Begin? well it was a beautiful Monday in the moth of May, when a call from my brother interrupted my watching of Sweeney Todd, we were going to go riding on that Tuesday, but oh boy was I in for a surprise. The following is a reenactment of the dialogue between my brother and I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;David: Hello?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luis (my brother): Hey fool&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;David: Yes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luis (my brother): Did you pick your bike up?&lt;br /&gt;David: ah, what do you mean?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luis (my brother): I mean did you take it, or lend it to some one?&lt;br /&gt;David: ah... not that I know of, why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luis (my brother): Well man, then you better call the cops because your bike is gone.&lt;br /&gt;David: Dude don't mess with me, you for real?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luis (my brother): yes&lt;br /&gt;David: Ah s*%&amp;amp;t man!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the rest shall be kept from record due to the profane subject matter. But yes my metal love had been stolen from my brothers drive way.... now before you say anything, keep in mind that he lives in Lindon Utah, up in the mountain top and there is nothing but rich white people. Never in a million years did we think this could have happened at his house, but as always we were wrong and boy did I pay the price. So now I have no hope to ever finding my metal Banshee love. Lesson learned, never leave your 99 Banshee on paddles sitting there for any moron to take it. Good bye Banshee good bye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-2916982169293512093?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/2916982169293512093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=2916982169293512093' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2916982169293512093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/2916982169293512093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-stolen-dream.html' title='My stolen dream.'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SERLFtGqYAI/AAAAAAAAABk/W09lTxXrXsM/s72-c/My_Banshee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629344136644799112.post-3734912198472802876</id><published>2008-06-02T10:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T11:48:33.920-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Looks aren't everything... I mean look at me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Allow my self to introduce....... my self. My name is David and yes I am Mexican so I hope you don't think this blog is a racist one. So where to start? well&lt;/span&gt; I am a boy of 25,&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEQt-tGqX3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/dthtAYUo6OQ/s1600-h/480px-Ray_Romano_2006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207337624429813618" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px" height="136" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEQt-tGqX3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/dthtAYUo6OQ/s200/480px-Ray_Romano_2006.jpg" width="159" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; charming and good looking, my looks have been compared to those of Ray Romano, from Everybody Loves Raymond&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So as you can see I am a great looking man, but looks are not all I rely on, I also have an amazing sculpted body (according to my wife) Imagine Screech from Saved by the Bell the College years. Oh yeah you get the picture. Well I am new to this married thing, and I am loving it! My wife is an amazing person whom I some how landed and actually kept her near me long enough to marry me. &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEQvedGqX5I/AAAAAAAAAAk/wgUIdJprW2E/s1600-h/IMG_1779.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207339269402288018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px" height="161" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEQvedGqX5I/AAAAAAAAAAk/wgUIdJprW2E/s200/IMG_1779.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If you knew back in the day you would see that that was a hard task to accomplish. Jennifer is her name and as you can see she is quite the looker her self. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So this is a bit about us, keep on reading and looking for updates about our life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEQuM9GqX4I/AAAAAAAAAAc/klYo7yjgzY4/s1600-h/IMG_1779.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEQuM9GqX4I/AAAAAAAAAAc/klYo7yjgzY4/s1600-h/IMG_1779.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6629344136644799112-3734912198472802876?l=ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/feeds/3734912198472802876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6629344136644799112&amp;postID=3734912198472802876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3734912198472802876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6629344136644799112/posts/default/3734912198472802876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilovemexicans1.blogspot.com/2008/06/looks-arent-everything-i-mean-look-at.html' title='Looks aren&apos;t everything... I mean look at me.'/><author><name>DAvID R.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16771334437184953868</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SYnARVkaCxI/AAAAAAAAAII/Sl3NaWkEnrc/S220/IMG_2387.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_8c7Ec2YQqZY/SEQt-tGqX3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/dthtAYUo6OQ/s72-c/480px-Ray_Romano_2006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
