Monday, March 10, 2008

Rum...Ugh...
or
We Love You Big Brother



I have a drinking problem...with rum.

Rum is an agent that sneaks inside with coke and then--two drinks later--puts a sleeper hold on you; makes me rampage like a pirate.

...A butt pirate, and though you might think a butt pirate is something light and airy, a real life butt pirate is a scary thing, scalliwag.

I went on a rum rampage in a Brooklyn bar, and it was so bad that I remember getting pushed out of it, which is unbecoming of a person of my stature.

That's right, I run around in some intense high society circles nowadays...I own jogging pants that make noise when they move, I'm the most level-headed person I know.

I've also taken this "socializing" thing to new and unforseen levels. I remember growing up as a young latina girl in Los Angeles, I was the shyest creature you'd ever seen. Several years of racial repression and self-fulfilling shame was a difficult thing to overcome, and I never thought I'd one day break out of my shell and learn to speak to other people.

But it seems you can go too far with socializing, and me, a poor near-negroid child, without a mentor in the world?

I remember watching commercials on TV for a Big Brother organization

"Be a big brother to someone special," the sleepy female narrator would say, and there were scenes of older men and women playing around with poor looking kids...

Where was my big brother? I need one now, a strong masculine brother, with muscles and big arms, yeah that's the ticket.

I don't believe in spirituality, or get-help books, but I do believe in big brothers; huge ones!

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