It's to see what'll happen . . . .

Hello friends,

Thanks for stopping by. It has been a while since my last bloggery, but alas, I sometimes come in here and start to write things and it just comes out as random bitching and boring "what-Lee-had-for-lunch" stories, so I abort.

I'm pro-choice when it comes to blogs. If you don't want to post that entry, go ahead and vacuum it out of the internet's bloody vagina.

Too much?

Yeah, well, This blog is not for minors. Or majors. Unless you're like, a criminal psychology major. Then nothing fazes you. Just like Actor on Popular Murder Investigation Show. He's so hunky. Those bastard writers on PMIS don't give him enough dark steamy locker-room scenes, though.

I digress. Life in Mexico is just as dreamy as ever. Breathe in the smog, choke on the chile, run from the rain. It's a wild ride. Indeed it is the rainy season here, it pours down for at least an hour or two pretty much every day, never really gets above 80 when it's sunny. It's nice compared to the stories I've been hearing from the Denver contingent, about it being 90+ all day and night. That probably sucks. [Muntz] Ha-Ha! [/Muntz]

Trying to tell people here what my name is, like for restaurant reservations, radio taxis, local sales calls . . . is some kind of ridiculous joke. I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that I'm Luis Sander. I've considered just starting to use my old Spanish-class nickname, "Emilio," but I never have the gall to outright tell someone that's what my name is.

So I say "Lee Saunders"

And they say "Luis Sander?"

And i say "*sigh* . . . . Sí . . . Luis Sander."

So if someone calls you telling you you need to send money to bail Luis Sander out of jail or something, help a brother out.

Luis would really appreciate that.

In lighter news, I have just recently put a deposit down on an apartment for myself here, which is exciting. I have been living up until now in a furnished suite-type place, they clean everyday, make my bed, it has dishes and toilet paper provided, etc. On the company's tab. So that honeymoon is now over, I'm moving to my own place, still in Colonia Condesa (I'm far too white and scared to move to a different Colonia) but kind of on the east-ish side. I'm only a block from the gorgeous and fabulously intricate Parque México, which is nice, it's a very tree-filled part of the neighborhood. I'm on the 6th floor with a fantastic patio view overlooking the park and part of the city out that direction, so it's very cool.

Cost of living in that sense is about the same here as it would be in the US, despite popular (ignorant) opinion that anyone with a normal professional job like mine would be "living like a king" down here. I'm shelling out $9,000 pesos a month for the next year for this puppy, so I hope you will come and visit me and stay there a night. Soon as I buy some furniture this option will be much more viable.

I made sure to move to a street that I could be sure that neither my parents nor my friends nor God himself, in his noodly-appendaged glory, could pronounce, just for good measure.

Say there Lee, I've heard you're all settled in your new place, and I think that it's just tops. Give me your address so I can send you a letter and some photos of me tending the gardens, won't you?

Certainly, Madame Bontroix, it's Ixtaccihuatl number 123, dept 105, Colonia Condesa, Mexico DF

Gracious me, whatever was that address?


^^That is generally what my conversations sound like, fyi.^^

See the title of this blog post for pronunciation. Its-tuh-see-wat-ull. Or maybe just its-tah-see-wat. I'm actually not too sure myself. You should have heard me making the calls to the owners to find out more information:

Um yes, hi, I'm looking for an apartment and I saw this number on a building on calle Itstacheetl? Istaucatlah? Ixtuhwachichi? Itchywatchband? Kajagoogoo?

Yeah, it's fun. But yeah, so i'm going to be getting some sexy leather couches, a nice big bed, some tables . . . maybe some funky paintings . . . you know . . . your average furninshings. Maybe some dishes. This paragraph pretty much sums up the excitement and raw energy that comprises the world of the Blog.

Other than that, I've just been coming to work in my little coat-and-tie, trying to sell billboards to people. Had a couple little successes recently, can't complain. Got my Ipod all loaded up finally, many thanks to Austin L. of Providence, RI for hooking up 141 fantastic albums for me to chew on. I finally got around to probando those, some great stuff. I recommend any of you pick up the album "The Sunset Tree" by the Mountain Goats if you're feeling like cooling off, or the album "Bring it Back" by Mates of State if you're feeling like heating up. For those with more tepid-temperate tastes, there's always the radio, you lamewad vanilla fartsack.

Also, I officially heart the NPR podcast of "Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me!" If you're not into this, you should be. It's so awesome.

My sweet darling wonderful Elizabeth is coming to see me this weekend. I feel a bit like a soldier who hasn't seen his woman after being bivouacked for 3 years. Granted we've only been apart 3 months and have talked on the vast majority of days, but hey. Give a guy a chance to use the word "bivouacked," will ya?

So anyhow, things are looking up. Still no pictures, I need to buy a new digicam, officially. I think the batteries on mine were made by a high-school physics class using copper wire and lime juice concentrate. Also i don't think i even have the cord to connect it to the computer. I'll work on that.

Bye to all, hope you are all having fun out there. Drop me an email to leemsaundersATgmail or a comment here and let me know about it!

--Lee

Try to catch me White and Nerdy

Hello patrons,

Thanks for stopping by to read about me. Nothing too exciting has happened, but maybe as I start to write, something fun will re-occur to me. Here goes nothing.

So I did end up going to the pyramids at Teotihuacan the other weekend, i have pictures on my camera, but i haven't gotten up the gusto to bring my camera in to work and plug it into my computer here. I don't exactly sit in an office, not a lot of privacy for non-work-related computer goings-on. But, imagine me in front of some busted looking pyramids, with a bunch of Mexicans all around. You got the gist.

So that was cool, then that night I ended up going with my friend Carina and the whole crew (mostly her immediate and non-immediate family) went back to their spot in Itztapalapa (which i think is Spanish for "wonderland of garbage-eating dogs and houses built out of old tires and soda cans," it's a colloquial translation) to attend the birthday party of Carina's uncle or somesuch. Naturally I was the only "guero" (read: whitey) there, and since we had been in Teotihuacan all day, i was still rocking the shorts. Turns out they don't sell shorts in Mexico City. So, nobody has them. Except whitey.

So man, this birthday party, her uncle, whose b-day it is, introduces himself and asks what i want to drink, i say i'll just have whatever my friend here is having, Miguel, Carina's boyfriend. Well, he's having a brandy and coke. That sounds fine. But, alas, it doesn't sound so fine to Mr. Uncle.

"Que, no te gusta el tequila?" (wha, you don like-a the tequila?)

"Oh . . . pues, sí, me gusta el tequila" (um, oh, um sure, of course i like tequila)

Of course I like tequila, pal. I thought perhaps this was just a cultural inquiry, wondering if someone as gangly and un-Mexican as I could enjoy the fruit of the mexican, um, cactus . . . thing . . . or however they make tequila.

Alas, this was no cultural inquiry, guy comes back with Miguel's refreshing-looking brandy and coke, and my shot of tequila and a lime. Ah, just what the doctor ordered after a day in the sun. A shot of room temperature tequila. And of course, he hawked over me until i had finished it, and promptly got me another. Ah, just what the doctor ordered after a shot of warm tequila after a long day in the sun before dinner, another shot of tequila. Mexican doctors apparently are really shitty at knowing what to order.

So, yeah, eventually i switched to "palomas", a cocktail that is tequila and squirt soda, actually pretty tasty. But man, at this point, Johnny Uncle now is demanding to know whether i know how to dance. Well, sure I know how to dance. I mean, i went to junior high. I can "shout". I can "jump around". Hell, I can slowly revolve to "On Bended Knee" all night, pops. Bring it.

Yeah, well, he meant like, dancing with a partner, where you have the one hand up and the one hand on the hip, and it's like two steps here, one backward there, some spinning action, little bit of toe-tappin, maybe some light bravado . . . yeah i don't know how to do that. Maybe if I had let old Gary drag me into that swing-dancing fad she was so big on . . . but i'm pretty sure i thought that was really ghey at the time. Which ain't helping me now. Naturally, lonely single Aunt somethin'orother wants to teach me to dance. Except not really, she just wants me to dance with her, and then look at me disappointedly when I suck. Great.

Turns out they eventually put on some other kind of music, cumbia or duranguese or something, which is more of a quick-stomp kind of dance. Well, i apparently excelled at this one. Lonely Horny Aunt was quick to grab me out of my chair and get me dancing with her, and this time no looks of remorse were inspired. Other random aunt got up and phsyically advised me to keep my hands behind my back for this type of dance. I guess that's the way you do it. So yeah, dancing like this takes a lot of energy, and I'm running on tequila fumes, sand and a big june bug i swallowed on the ride home at this point. The machine is clearly sending out the DO NOT WANT call, yet Sally Auntsalot is having nothing to do with it. I sit down between songs, she is back to grab me as the next one starts up. Holy bad sausage, it was rough. Luckily they hired a live mariachi band to play, and they showed up and the other kind of dancing took hold again, and even their 90 some odd year old grandma at this point had given me a dancin' chance, and quickly regretted it. So i got some rest. All in all, it was a great party. Great like a carbonite hangover is great. "I can't see!" "ya-to, ya-to."

So, yeah, beyond that, I've been hanging out low-pro in Condesa, walking around looking at possible places to rent when the time comes for me to get out in my own place on my own dime, which is around August 20-ish. I'll very most likely be staying in La Condesa, there are plenty of places for rent, and the safety and quality of restaurants/bars/closeness-to-work are mighty fine.

I also went to Puerto Vallarta two weekends ago, my parents Laurel and Steve helped get me invited to join them on the Pepsi Center corporate sponsor thank-you trip, which was awesome. Really awesome considering I did very little sponsoring of the Pepsi Center this year. It was great to see the folks and some other CO people, chat in English and such.

The first night i had a few beers on the beach at the welcome dinner after watching the USA win at soccer over Canada in the Gold Cup. I ended up at the hotel bar next to a smug bald guy who proceded to grill me about my love for America, and when i didn't gush patriotism, proceded to grill me with "you had an opportunity, the opportunity of a lifetime, and you blew it" for about 2 hours. Guy kept saying how fantastic my abilities in Spanish and English were, and how I was a really smart kid, which he would immediately counter with "you talk too f*cking much, you need to learn when to shut the f*ck up" and such. I eventually tried to figure out what said "opportunity" was that i "blew," only to eventually get him to mention that he used to be in the military or something, and that I should go to Peru to be an "operative" for America, or something like that. He mostly just yelled at me and made numerous drunken futile attempts to re-light his cigar. I hope that guy dies in a fire.

Then the next morning we went a-swinging in the jungle, sliding on crazy rope-swing things on this "canopy tour." That was a trip, they hook you up with the full climbing-gear harness, and then there's a whole team of guys that travels with you from little plastic platform at the top of the trees to other platforms, they hook your harness to the rope and you just slide across, like hundreds of feet at a time, about a hundred feet of the ground. It was awesome. It ended with a free-rapell, which was new to me. All in all, very enjoyable. The "free" part didn't hurt either.

Basically the rest of my weekend consisted of drinking in the pool, walking the beach, eating seafood, and going to nightclubs downtown Puerto Vallarta. Turns out, even if you speak fantastic conversational, formal, and slang spanish, Mexican girls still don't want to dance with your big white ass, even if you are the only guy coming up to their group of 8 girls, even if you play the cool glance-re-glance game, even if you blablablablabla, and you make them laugh, doesn't matter. You are a big gringo and you will be dancing alone this evening. So yeah, massive strike-outs were involved there. Quite humbling. All i wanted was someone to dance with. I figured "psshh, the American girls, ha! I speak Spanish, I live in Mexico, i'm gonna go find a Mexican lady to dance with!" Oh, ho, yeah. Not so much.

So yeah, I'm back in Mexico City now, back hard at work trying to sell some billboards. Let me know if you want one. Rates are rock-bottom. Yeah. Still not too sure about this whole "sales" gig. Pretty much an awful idea for how to act/work. But, it has brought me to a new country, doing new things, so, can't complain that much .

I'll post those pictures sometime soon. Hope you are all rocking, possibly also rolling.

--Lee