'Tonco here start when I began my life interneteril. The tontilla explanation of why I chose this nickname for my blog, simple, nostalgic fan of Javier Solis and especially the song Malagueña Salerosa, recalcitrant movie fanatic Quentin Tarantino , confessed lover of the Federal District. After this blog took me to meet my dear amiguines, conpinches of partying nights make me very happy "Do You Know What this is? It's the World's Smallest violin playing just for Our happiness lost." In a statement, under the pretext of victory in a publicity stunt twiteros which became electoral parody, drinking in the city center, to be exact in the cantina celebrísima and Crown Hall. That Sunday night we are a large group, which is rare given the day, for all we know that Sundays are for sleeping (should be called dormingos) and during the night to the thesis, backlog, or be embraced by depression and anxiety that triggers the start of another week and turned the shit rutinita that five days so we complain a week.
As were many and great beer, excitement and laughter were not asking for more. Drunkenness was of epic proportions. Someone was taken into the arms of a bathroom. Another fell on Isabel la Católica to fancy riding a bike in complete intoxicated.
we moved when they closed the Corona Cantina. We went to the Two Nations, famous for its shrimp broth (Free!) And it scared the girls who have not seen much of the world can see up close how they work the files and the wretches who are actually drunk authentic cantina dude that is: a place where the lads play kitsch to be tough guys with the slogan that be naco is cool. I met her because at that place folk my best friend from college celebrated his birthday the recommendation of its Twenty-six ex-boyfriend, a musician who played almost perfectly that night Mr. Brown dialogue about the true meaning of "Like a Virgin." But that Sunday in late January, the place was half empty. We put music on the jukebox and danced with two friends (no, not a twist contest), the end of the second song, one heard at the table near the old appliance to a couple of foreigners speaking French. In those days I began to plan a trip to Europe and had been the subject of much ridicule for my poor performance in belle langue. So why not, my friends made them easier to talk to outsiders and invite them to our table in full compliance with the cliche of Mexican Amigans, partying and hospitable. We talked with a Frenchman who was alone and spoke English fairly understandable, the other would be a Canadian but did not communicate in English but carried a camera with which our radiant output immortalized the bar in the morning. The magic of the information superhighway-slogan-noventero allowed us to keep in touch with the Frenchman, the next day we were friends on facebook.
My new friend complied fully with the cliché of French who falls for Mexico, love the tacos al pastor, Mexican beer, knows almost all the league teams, like the English and kept praising how wonderful it is our country, as a curiosity shared surname with Mrs. Nicolas Sarkozy. I did not know well what others and I became their tour guides for a couple of days, just for fun but for a strange obligation not to leave walking alone in the city. The last day, just before leaving for the airport, yet Garibaldi took him to test the pulque, which also won for me because I had never before presented such an opportunity.
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| Rink "? Oh, sounds like the mexican Mexican emperors empedarse. |
The mop boy poet. Tell me if there is a cut noventero. Niéguenlo. She is the girl beautiful. In the picture is not seen but had a great body.
And yes, everyone had known in the pulquería that afternoon. It was barely nine o'clock at night and went to another place, more pulque. On the way the drink was so pretty girl who stopped to urinate without a trace of modesty behind a car, and without another front in the gourd-full Inns. "All right to the hut that was urinating Reloca back there," said the poet. What was I doing with these people and why would I? Maybe it was the brat frightened, though advanced in years, wanting to know these worlds which had always been just a spectator gray through film kitsch. "Well, let's just say I like to-try-live dangerously. "Talks disjointed and quite laughable (in my insides kept making fun of silly that I was the poet) continued a couple of hours in another room with furniture that was almost out of a vacant lot and people who smoked pot like we were in Amsterdam. A place where you most likely will not return and who otherwise would not visit.
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| "No subject will ever be taboo. Except, of course, the subject That Was just under discussion. Now, If Any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time! " |
I got home at eleven at night without a trace of borrachez but with a noticeable fatigue after so much revelry followed and combined with freelance work "It's mercy, compassion, and Forgiveness I Lack. Not rationality." It was stupid and sensual adventures that never in my life recatadérrima mocha and allowed me to have. It was a night to witness something I should know the nineteen years and not twenty-seven. It was early February.
French sent a message to us recently, would travel for two months with his best friend, "Damned, have so many holidays, and hope to see you again. We saw on Friday and stayed that day to meet one of the activities that we missed to do last time, go to wrestling. It would have been Sunday but that day he played for America and n'été pas possible (yuck). On Tuesday it was. On the day we could not get good agreement and when I confirmed it was too late to tell more people, in fact, who managed to say flatly refused "no mames, is Tuesday, tomorrow you should go to the office .. . bla bla bla. I went downtown to pick one. Wanted to take them to the Coliseum Arena is the Arena Mexico strawberry jams they believe to be naco is cool and completely ignore the CMLL world, are going to drink, wear a mask and do poses here, "I said a lot even though I know that I bite my tongue a little at a time. I explained why in the Arena Coliseo itself breathes the atmosphere of genuine fans of wrestling. But, dammit, we arrived after seven and was closed "No, is that there is no office on Tuesday for a shitload" replied the lady in the post of corn in the Republic of Peru. I became infatuated and looked for the billboard of Mexico, they had worked. Walk to Metro Allende and although their enthusiasm was a bit under the weather by the hour (and 7:48 pm. Marked the Pino Suarez clock) my stubbornness forced to accelerate the shift out of Cuauhtémoc. Arriving at
Arena thought I would have to buy tickets because the ticket resale were empty and seemed closed, but one should avoid at all costs to show the tourists the degree of corruption in the country, anyway I went to one and voila, there were still tickets. They wanted to be up front, 98-bucks-for-favor. We went in and the usher guided us to our place, but there were people sitting there. Chatted with another usher asked us where we bought the tickets. Suddenly a face was familiar. In the second row of a half empty arena sat the mismérrimo Mexico Quentin Tarantino. QUENTIN TARANTINO, no maméis. I did not know what to do, well yes, I went to tweet - why people use twitter but pa 'sucker? -. The best came later, is that as we bought the tickets at the box office and Quentin and his companions were sitting in our seats, moved to the back row. I moved them and did nothing NOTHING! I was so nervous and I thought no way to tell workers of the Arena, "No, please, let them in that row, three of us sat on the other side." The French were amused the story "when we return to France would be funny to have it moved because of us Tarantino of place", the irony for me is that living both in Cannes have been met in Mexico to the Director winner of the Palme d'Or in 1995 and not in the city which houses the world's most famous festival.
I spent two hours sitting in the front row of Quetin Tarantino at the Arena Mexico listening to laugh, joke and cry while watching wrestling. Time in which a couple of times we crossed eyes (as I flipped when I heard a funny thing to say), not at all pose a director has believed and papaya, joked a few times with us as we were taking pictures of fighters and he looked "pretty cool" uh "(oh, I heard him say the word" COOL "like ten times), and call together beer to the dealer. It would be very stupid of me not to ask for an autograph, whose collection is already quite respectable and still dying of grief, turned around and hiding the program you spent that night in the Arena and a pen. Take a picture next to me seemed too much and thought I would do very visible presence there. Two hours where there was no happiness and disbelief, especially by the series of events that had led me to watch wrestling on a Tuesday (a day when almost nobody would attend as a show that is only going to take chaos in the group once a year or when it is in their walk tourists), the day that one of my managers favoritísimos invited him-probably-Daniela Michel and Guillermo Arriaga. Is that I can not imagine better circumstances, ad hoc scenario or a more innesperada Farandulera surprise.
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| Quentin posing for me. Never in my wildest dreams have imagined peasants. |
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| In full cry. |
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| I handle what the Greek profile next to the Grand Director. |
