ChinoValdez.com

Sick Shit (Literally)

I'd like to dedicate today's post to every parent who has ever had to take care of a sick child. I've never had to...but I got a preview of what it might be like last night. And it wasn't fun. We came home after the Super Bowl to a bunch of chores we had to complete. We left Little Farrah B. in her crate as we didn't want her having any accidents in the house since we couldn't walk her immediately after getting home. As I ran around taking care of things, I heard her let out a new cry. It was quite different from her "let me out of here" whimpers, but I ignored her regardless. So about, 45 minutes after we got home, I finally went to Little Farrah B.'s crate and saw that not only had she barfed all over the place, she'd also had a mad case of diarrhea. Fucking ey! I grabbed her and took her to the bathtub so she could get a good scrub down from LSG. Wouldn't you know it? The poor thing got a mad, mad case of the squirts. All over LSG's bathtub. So after some sick ass cleaning and hardcore disinfecting, all was back to normal. Until we woke up this morning to find another squishy surprise. Obviously, we aren't going to be mad at Little Farrah B., she can't help being a dog and eating shit she's not supposed to. But it's not been fun taking care of the mess. So, anyway, Big Up's to all of you who've had to deal with an actual sick kid...I know that kid barf is far more gross than dog barf. And I know it must be quite tiring. I'm pretty tired from just two or three accidents. I just truly, truly hope Little Farrah B. is good by the time we get home. It's actually quite sad.

This Week #10

This Week's Disbelief: I can't believe how many reality shows are on cable! Half of them don't even make sense. Like, does anyone really give a flying fuck about Pepa?!

This Week's Favorite Quote: "Let's destroy the world with happiness."-Little girl at Flame Broiler.

This Week's Increasing Joy: Spending time with The Little Nephew. I love that little guy. 

This Week's Sort Of Worth A Second Shot: I finally sat through The Hurt Locker. Still not my kind of movie.

This Week's Relief: The groin is starting to feel much better.

This Week's But: Now my ankle is not so good. 

This Week's Disappointment: "Lopez Tonight." I really thought it would be funny. Not. At. All.

This Week's Happy News: The Sixter and The Yankee are having a boy!! 

This Week's Decision: I'm going Vegan for March. Just to try it out. 

This Week's Surprise: I've talked shit about religion, family, and God knows what else. Still, I've never gotten more e-mails or texts than I did over the "boot" post. Y'all take your fashion pretty seriously!! For the record...I still think they're lame. 

Working Some Shit Out

You know how sometimes you hear a story about some neglected old person somewhere, like, maybe they’re broke or lonely…all the while having adult children and family in some other state. It’s pretty easy to automatically call the children assholes or wonder how they can be so cruel to their poor old person. Over the last few years I have learned that, that poor old person wasn’t always a defenseless, old, wrinkled human being. No, at some point in their life, they might have been a selfish, uncaring, younger adult. In other words, you reap what you sow. More than likely, there is a reason why the person’s family has chosen to stay away.

With that in mind, I’d like to tell you all a little story. Picture this: Me sitting on my couch familiarizing myself with my newly installed cable channels. My phone rings. I look over and see a 909 number on my caller ID. Innocently, I think it might be The BFF or The Bro calling me from a different number than I have stored. So I pick up. And I hear a voice that all at once seems very familiar, but still takes my brain quite a few seconds to process. "Oh. Hi. Grandma."

I’m trapped. My heart starts beating at an accelerated pace…I can literally hear my heart beat. This woman is by far, not at the top of my list of people I want to have a conversation with. And we talk about nonsense. Her feeling lonely, but grateful that my cousins have dogs to keep her company. Health-wise, she’s good, with the exception of her bones. All the while I knew eventually we’d get to what she really wanted. Info. How’s The Mom’s? What has she been up to? Is [Brother #1] working? Is it true he has a son now? She then says she thinks about us all the time, but doesn’t have the courage to see us. She says she especially misses Brother #1 but in the same breath asks me, "What's his name again?" Come to think of it, she never even asked me how I was doing.

Let me tell you a few things about my grandmother before I get to my true feelings. Growing up, she was by far my favorite grandma. I can say that now…although I denied it most of my childhood to anyone who asked. It’s not that The Mom’s mom was bad, it’s just that I saw her every day. And I had to compete with like 100 other cousins for her attention. With my Dad’s mom, I felt I had developed a one-on-one relationship. And I saw her maybe once or twice a month…so it was always such a treat to see her. And every time I saw her, she’d give up some cash…that was always a bonus.

It wasn’t until I got a bit older that I saw her for who she really was. And let me say that many people have let me down in life. But not many have hurt as much as she. You know how when you go to therapy, it is the therapist’s job to help you get to the root of whatever issue you’re going through? Guess who’d get mentioned quite a bit. I mean, my self-consciousness can probably be traced back to good ole’ grandma. Being told at 9 that the cellulite on my thighs was not healthy and that I needed to stop eating so much was engraved in my head for life. (Not that it made a difference...obviously.) And then, when puberty kicked in, I wouldn’t so much as get greeted before pimples on my face got pointed out. Instead of cash, I started getting Avon acne treatments…that, incidentally, were never requested. One time I was being stupid with my friends, stuck my head out the car window and my glasses flew off. The folks weren’t doing so well, so I called the grandma for some help. She lent me the money for new glasses and then shortly after began to incessantly ask for it back every single time she saw me. No big deal, except I was 16 and working part-time at Del Taco...how responsible could I have been back then? And in the meantime she was paying my 22-year-old cousin’s rent and car payment. And then on her birthday one year, I dropped off some flowers and a card at her door. When she called to tell me she got them, she said she thought I'd left her money for her in the envelope. Before saying thank you. Whatever.

I have worked through those childhood issues (although you wouldn't think so by reading this...I'm just trying to give you background.) As with most people who chipped in on damaging young Chino, The Mom’s was always there to bring balance. Thank goodness. Shit like that still hurts though. Fast forward a few years to when my Dad got sick. The Mom’s, being the sole bread winner, had to juggle taking care of Dad and maintaining her job. So she calls my grandma for some help. She, at first, says no because one of my aunts doesn’t have a babysitter. Umm…your son, the only son that bothers to call you on a daily basis is battling cancer and you’re concerned about my fucking aunt not having a babysitter? Anyway, eventually, she did move in with my parents and did help in taking care of my Dad until the day he died. Big Up’s to her for that. In the process, she drove The Mom’s and The Brothers absolutely crazy. Even my poor Dad wanted her shipped away at one point.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a million times. Fuck with the people I love and you will see a side of me you will not like. Every single time I’d come over I’d get a report of how grandma would tell The Brothers they were too fat or would criticize The Mom’s on a million and one things. At some point you start to build some resentment. Towards the very end of my Dad’s life, so many tumors had grown in his colon that his body was not capable of taking care of business properly. The waste still had to come out one way or another (I'll spare you the details.) And didn’t this crazy old lady make it a point to tell my Dad how he was grossing her out? That was it.

One last thing and I’ll stop antagonizing her…when my Dad finally died and The Mom’s came under attack by his family, she had every opportunity to say, "I was with [The Mom’s] every step of the way. Believe me, she and the doctors did everything they could have done. The cancer was just found too late. How about we just leave her alone and allow her to grieve in peace?" But that’s not what happened. Instead, she just fueled the flames. I have to say, that, that period was by far the worst my family and I have lived through. Each of us was experiencing a type of pain we’d never felt before. We needed people to ask us how we were doing, ask us if we needed anything. Instead we got, why didn’t you try this? What if you’d done this? She simply didn’t have our backs.

You’re probably thinking, "Chino, cut the old lady some slack." I can’t. Even if I wanted to. And when I was talking on the phone with her, not only did I feel like I was betraying my family but I truly felt like I was betraying myself. Shortly, after my Dad died, I decided to pay her a visit. Back then I was dealing with guilt and trying to do what my Dad would have wanted me to do. So I hung out with her for a little and I vowed to return. Time went by and when I actually wanted to go back and see her, I'd put on some weight. And then I just didn't want to face her because I didn't want to hear from her. That was too sick for me. I was prepared for the next time I'd hear about her it being about the funeral arrangements.I did not want to talk to her. And I don't feel guilty about not wanting a relationship with her.

That's the thing, too many times...epecially in my culture, we're forced to be around people that, for lack of a better word are poisonous. My grandmother is a big ass pool of negativity. Talking to her, I couldn't feel sorry for her. I couldn't feel bad that I cut her out of my life. I don't hate her. Don't get it twisted...I just don't want her in my life. And I truly can't help but believe in Karma. Look, you treat people around you like shit your entire life and eventually it catches up to you. Plain and simple. I mean, how many times can you put a person down before they just walk away? Right? Word.

Crazy

Due to various circumstances, I’ve had to deal with several mentally ill people lately. Some of those dealings have turned out pretty positively, and others…not so much. But what I’ve learned is that this one of the populations that I would love to work with a bit more in the future. Might be a good incentive to get my ass back to school. We’ll see. Anyway, each time I meet with them I am always left quite fascinated. I mean, to hear how much they believe in their own idea of reality is truly something. I wish I could get a pen in their hands and just have them write whatever is in their heads. I bet they’d come up with some brilliant abstract shit. As I’ve had to deal with this population, so have others around me. And I can’t help but notice that not everyone has the same appreciation for them. And people’s reactions have often left me confused and disappointed. You see, I am of the belief that we all got a little bit of crazy in us. Each of us has our own little quirks that others might quickly label as a little nutty. And it’s all good!

Before the holidays, I let The Boss Lady borrow Revolutionary Road. If you remember, this is the movie that shook me to my core and made me realize that if I want to do shit in life, I need to get to it…pronto. It also encouraged me to look outside the box. You know, just because society dictates that life should go a certain way, doesn’t mean I have to abide by it. And so, I was excited to let as many people as were interested watch the movie. When she brought it back, I couldn’t wait to hear her tell me how much she loved the movie. How it made her realize that she missed out on so much in life because she had chosen to conform. Instead, I got, “Oh my God. That poor girl was so mentally ill. I can’t believe nobody tried to get her any help. To think that you can just pack up your stuff and move to Paris without knowing anyone there. My God! Her husband almost quit his job because of her. That’s just crazy.”

For like a split second, I thought, “Oh, man. Maybe I’m crazy too, then.” To believe that if one day La Shy Girl and I decided to just pack up and follow the wind, the rest of the world would consider us crazy is not something I’d ever considered. Then I thought, well, Boss Lady is just old school. Nothing wrong with that. It’s just a matter of opinion…I guess. But then I remembered when I wanted nothing more than to go to Mexico and study acting after high school and my parents pretty much told me I was crazy and it was never going to happen. I still didn’t believe I was crazy then. In fact, a part of me still resents that I was never given the opportunity. Shit, I could be playing gardener #5 in “Amar Es Para Siempre.”

In my life, I want to salute those that throw social standards out the window and live their life however the fuck they want. Who cares if people tell you you’re an obsessive shoe shopper? Who cares if people think you’re crazy for turning down a job in this economy? For God’s sake, who gives a shit if you go around telling people that the reason they can’t find happiness is because they haven’t accepted Jesus in their lives? Shit, go on and get your creepy on!

Think about it…it’s crazy to think we can elect one man to run the nation and expect him to be perfect. It’s crazy to live your life according to how some book tells you to. For God’s sake, Taylor Swift just won Album of the Year! What the fuck?! There is craziness all around us. And so just because we think a little bit differently than those around us, it doesn’t mean we’re crazy, crazy.

It’s funny that we get so set in our ways, we actually start to think our way is the right way. God knows I’m guilty of it. But if we know that we are capable of creating complete alternate realities in our minds…if we know that we go nuts if one of our DVD’s is not put back in the correct alphabetical order…if we go through our days thinking the whole world is against us, then who the fuck are we to judge those that are fully lost in mental illness? Who are we to be afraid? Instead we should just embrace our own eccentricities and learn to sympathize with those that walk the earth among us. Even if they eat some crazy shit like soyrizo!

TGIF

One of my favorite lines from a song is “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end” from “Closing Time” by Semisonic. I’ve always liked how true that sounds to me. Today being February 1^st, I’ve tried to look at as a new beginning for me. Most importantly, it marks the end of shitty January. Not that I can complain too much about good ole’ January…it in itself is a new beginning, after all. But I have to tell you…January was just a crazy month of transition. My job…I have to realize that things may not go back to how they used to be. And I have to keep reminding myself that I am capable of handling it. It’s who I am. I am awesome. So, as crazy as my job can get it, all I need to do is keep in mind that I’m working for people who aren’t working…and that just changes everything. I become one appreciative motherfucker.

It’s days like the ones I had that allow me to truly appreciate that I get to come home to the most awesome home life. I think I’d be seriously fucked if home sucked too. But enough with complaining…February is going to be better. I mean, I owe it to black history to brush my shoulders off. I gotta suck it up and get my game face on. It’s how I roll.

Weekend Update

I have to tell you, this past weekend was just what I needed, yo! Friday night, we checked out The Persian's new apartment and got our Taboo on. Needless to say, I was on the winning team...but just barely. I need to brush up on my ass-kicking skills. A major Big Up's to new friends El and La Smiley for putting up with my foul mouth. Got to spend time with the BFF and that was pretty much the only time I spent off my couch for the rest of the weekend.

Remember how I told you I pulled a groin muscle about two weeks ago? Well I Ibuprofened the shit out of it until I was in the clear. I got on the treadmill Wednesday and Thursday and by Friday, things were no bueno. Had to spend time with my good friend Vicodin. So that put me out of commission for Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday we watched some movies (Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs and Saw VI) and caught up on some TV (Fringe, Modern Family and Big Love) and that was pretty much it. For real. I believe the most productive thing I did was water our plants. Sunday we watched some Food Network and waited for the Grammys.

I'm happy to report that I have learned my lesson. I WILL take it easy. This is some painful shit. For all the fellas reading this...yes, it's your groin muscle, but the pain radiates. And we all know what is in the vicinity. Not fun.

This Week #9

This Week's Appreciation: Brother #2 for always pointing out my typo's and grammatical errors on the blog. I just might put him on the payroll.

This Week's Joy: The current playlist on my iPod. Absolute perfection.

This Week's Sadness: Finally watched This Is It and realized MJ still had so much more to give the world. The guy was still so fucking talented. Just heartbreaking.

This Week's For Real: Gentlemen, quit sending pictures of your schlongs to your girlfriends. They might one day be a vindictive ex.

This Week's Lament: Remember when athletes were role models?

This Week's 10 Minute Challenge Times: Wednesday, 11:55. Thursday, 11:17.

This Week's Number Of Times I Was Rejected As A Guest At 24 Hour Fitness: 1

This Week's Person I'm Glad Not To Be: Salvador Cabanas, soccer player

This Week's Ay Guey Moment: Two sports references in one post...NICE!

Fire (A Nice and Quick One)

La Shy Girl and I hung out with The Little Nephew earlier this week. He's about 14 months old now and is actually quite fun to hang around with.He's walking and laughing and, of course, always trying to get everything. I truly was fascinated with watching him as he really just cannot sit still. (Very much like his father...even now, BTW.) So anyway, at one point he started playing with a ball, which eventually ended up under The Mom's coffee table. We all watched as he walked over the table, crawled under and proceeded to stand up, hitting his head in the process. And it happened again. But by the third time the ball ended up under the coffee table, I watched him maneuver himself in a way that he wouldn't hit himself on his way back up. The little fucker had learned his lesson.

And then I thought, "Dude, if a little 14-month-old can figure out how to not get hurt by trial and error. Why the fuck can't we do the same as adults?" Obviously, we've figured out that if we drop a hammer on our toes, it is not going to feel good. So, we learn to be pretty careful when handling tools (he, he, he). And we learn to look both ways when crossing the street. We get most of that shit quickly. We know that there are going to be consequences. But when it comes to affairs of the heart, why do we insist on playing with fire? Especially, when we already know it's not going to end well. How many times do we have to put ourselves through the same cycle until we finally get it? There's a reason why they're called patterns.

Music

I was already planning on writing about music today and my recent struggles with trying to create the perfect mix of songs on iPod. You see, I'm not the kind of guy that can have over 3,000 songs to choose from. That's just too much for me. So, I try to have anywhere from 350-500 songs on my iPod at one time. Then, of course, I get sick of hearing the same songs over and over again so I switch them out...only to inevitably miss the original songs. I was actually going to try and write a whole post on the perfect playlist until I realized how lame that might be. So I nixed it. Well, then I got on the treadmill, all psyched to try out my new "workout" mix. I get going with some "Dirt Off My Shoulder", get a little more into with some "Deja Vu" and kick it into high gear with some "Bad Romance" and then the pinche battery on my iPod gives out on me. It's not the first time it's happened. The freakin' thing sits in a dock all day...there should be no reason for it happenning. Whatever. But my awesome workout turned into a creepy silent one. For those of you that know me, you know that music is a completely essential part of my life. I shower to music, I poop to music, I can't drive unless there's music on, I clean to music, I do other adult things to music. And so naturally, I run to music. And if I can't do that...I'm not sure what will become of my life. I'm being this dramatic for a reason. (Shy Girl, sweetheart, I might need a new iPod.) And that's all I had on that. Following are some other random thoughts on music....

I had to go run an errand and I forgot my iPod, so I had to listen to the radio...which I hate doing. I have tried very hard to ignore that song "Bedrock" by Lil Wayne and his posse. But today I happened to click to it right as the Nicki Minaj verse was on...and it got me. That is my new jam! And although, I try and not listen to crap like Lil' Wayne, a good song is a good song. Here's a sample...

Last night, the wonderful Mrs. Chino Valdez bought me the new Lady Antebellum album. It had me at hello. I've given it about seven listens today, and I gotta say they did a good job, those kids. Sometimes I force myself to like an album, because I feel that I should (like the new Alicia Keys) but this one I liked right away. If you don't want to listen to the whole album (cause it's Country, I get it) at least YouTube "Need You Now", "Love This Pain", "If I Knew Then" and "Ready To Love Again". Some good stuff.

And finally, do you ever hear a song and think, "God if so and so just listened to this song, it justmight make a difference?" I remember being young and watching some sort of Janet Jackson documentary where these two high school dropouts heard Janet's "The Knowledge" and they decided to go back to school. Just like that. In meeting Janet, they even gave her their tassels. At that time, all I kept thinking was, "Y'all just trying to meet you some Janet Jackson. Don't play." But now I know that a song can actually speak to you. Maybe even make you think twice about someting. So, even though, I know you don't come on here...you never know. Just sayin'...

No...But For Real

How cute is The Little Nephew?