Thursday, May 31, 2007


I'm having a bad hair day. In fact, let's just call it a "bad hair month". Now before you start telling me about all the wonderful hair care products that are guaranteed to make my hair soft, luxurious, and manageable, let me tell you, I have invested what could be 1/3 of my vast fortune (if indeed I had a vast fortune) on hair products. All of the them promised me no frizz, manageable, soft and silky hair. None have kept their promise.

My hair has had many changes through out the years. It has been as long as Rapunzel's and as short as my boyfriend's. It has been a natural chestnut brown , various shades of purples and reds and the basic black. When it was very long, it was very straight. Once I had it cut, it became very curly and developed a life of it's own.

Living in the tropics has taken it's toll. The constant heat and the extreme humidity make it look frizzy and wild and out of control. I have tried every product on the market to stop the "frizz". All have failed me. Some days I try blow drying it straight, some days I just go with the frizz and wild.

I need a new style. Should I cut it? Dye it? What color? What style? Should I go with something totally new and different? How different? Bangs or no bangs? How about the part? In the middle or to the side? Which side? Oh, the joy's of being a girl.

I want something requiring little or no attention. Perhaps bald, is the way to go. As for color, am leaning towards "Malaysian cherry". I don't know what color " Malaysian cherry " is, but when I looked up hair color that one sounded sexy and appealing. My goal is to do something with my hair sometime next week. Got any ideas about my new look? What's you secret to non frizz hair? Any suggestions on style, and color? Got some hair horror stories to make me feel better?

Monday, May 28, 2007

Powers that be ... the end?

Dear Universe,

Again, I must thank you for your quick response. Again, however you didn't exactly give me what I wanted. Did you not read the part in my last post which stated "respond in a more gentle, loving way". Kidney stones ... this was gentle and loving, how? You and I are not on the same page, my friend. Kidney stones! what the fuck!

I woke up on Saturday night with the most horrendous, excruciating pain imaginable. The kind of pain which makes you vomit from the sheer agony. The kind of pain that makes a girl beg to be put out of her misery. The kind of pain that affected my thought process, my ability to speak and even my ability to reason. Did I mention the pain was excruciating, torturous, and agonizing? What the hell have I ever done to you? Granted, I have taken to swearing at you a little, then there was the "machete" threat but really, did any of that warrant kidney stones?

On the up side, the great pain drugs given to me in the emergency room allowed me to sleep for many hours. Pain drugs have the added bonus of not only numbing the pain but the brain as well. I won't go into detail about the emergency room visit but I will tell you that they treated me well and the torturous pain receded back to the depths of hell from whence it came. (before leaving the hospital, I did apologize to all the nurses and doctor's I offended with my bi-lingual swearing and screaming).

Let's try and put any bad blood behind us and work towards a more peaceful co-existence. Forget about the lottery and spa requests. Forget about a whole week of nothingness. I will try and face each day with a better attitude and you try and send a little more peace my way. I'm willing to work with you as long as you lighten up the stress load.

I have always been in awe and wonder at the majesty and splendor that is you. (trying a little ass kissing, can't hurt at this point). Although I don't feel my past requests have been over zealous, I am willing to re-examine my priorities, in return for some less painful attention from you. Don't expect another letter from me any time soon. I will cautiously trust that in the end, you will take care of me, in a much more loving manner than you have in recent weeks.

Sincerely, Eslocura

P.S. Don't misconstrue this more laid back attitude as weakness. The machete is by the nightstand.

Friday, May 25, 2007

Powers that be ... part 2

Dear Universe,

Thank you for your very prompt response to my previous letter. However, you do not play fair. Your response, although quick, was not what I was expecting. I was not at all pleased with the torrential rainstorm that hit the asylum just a mere few hours after my first letter was posted. The rainstorm resulted in loss of power and water here at the Asylum for 28 hours. Did you get that ... 28 hours.

Perhaps you did not take kindly to my previous letter. Perhaps you thought my request was gratuitous. Perhaps you did not like the little naked dance I did on the balcony, while wielding my machete and screaming curse words at the heavens. For whatever reasons, it is apparent I upset you. No power or water for 28 hours.

Your little ploy meant I had no Internet access for 28 hours. What could you have been thinking? No Internet, left me feeling empty and alone, out of contact with the world outside the Asylum. I was experiencing major symptoms of withdrawal prior to the power coming back on. Lack of water meant that I had to use bottled water to brush my teeth, flush the toilet, and shower. Do you have any idea what it's like to shower using gallon jugs of water? trust me, it's not as fun and kinky as it sounds.

The good news is, I did listen to my ipod until the battery died, I did make those phone calls to various friends using my cell phone, until that died and I did have a battery operated lantern to read by, until that died as well. I thank for you allowing me those simple pleasures but I really wish you had gone about it a different way.

I promise to stop swearing at you, (OK, maybe not stop but I will cut down) and I won't do that little naked dance again if you please reconsider my previous request and respond in a more gentle loving manner. Perhaps you can arrange for me to win the lottery or you could make a plane miraculously appear and whisk me away to someplace where I can bask in spa treatments for a few days. These are just suggestions, I am open to other ideas as long as they are pretty much exactly what I wanted in the first place.

In closing, sweet Universe, please understand that I am forever grateful for the life which I have been given. I take nothing for granted. I may be a lot a little crazy but am basically a good person. Thank you again for taking time out of your busy schedule (saving the world must be hard work) to respond to my letter. Next time please try leaving out the power outage and rainstorm with it's resulting chaos.

Sincerely, Eslocura

P.S. Am sharpening my machete, just in case you try that no Internet access shit again.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Powers that be ...

Dear Universe,

What the fuck is up? Why must you torment me? Can't a girl catch a freaking break? I would like to think that there are perhaps "bigger fish to fry" than little old me. However, you apparently have decided that toying with me is your new hobby. I, on the other hand, am not laughing. I have for the most part, taken my share of bullshit in good stride. Most days I am cheerful, patient, and some might even say I possess a positive attitude. But enough already!

It all started with that horrible cold that lasted a month. Now granted, you perhaps had nothing to do with that directly. But, I am convinced that you must have had a hand in placing that germ laden person in front of me at the check out line, knowing I couldn't escape her fucking germs as she sneezed and cough incessantly while completing her purchases.

Then I had a fight with the neighbors about their gift for playing the loudest fucking Reggaeton this side of the island. Sadly, Reggaeton is not music, it sucks and at decibels that cause my windows to shake, it sucks pond scum. Can't you throw a few lightening bolts their way for a change?

Speaking of noise, isn't there anything you can do about the town crier's ungodly hours? How about the pack of horny dogs that have fornicated outside my bedroom window for the last week. They bark, they fornicate, they fight and repeat this process until I start wishing I had a gun. All I want is a good nights sleep, is that so wrong?

Insanity, I accept that living at the asylum, well, does come with some insanity. It may also include some delusional behavior, hallucinations and the occasional nervous breakdown. But why the fuck must all the patients freak at the same time? Can't you spread this lunacy out a little? How about allowing each patient a day to freak out about every 3-4 months instead of daily?

Farming, I've always been a city girl (growing up in NYC and living in Boston, gives me the right to claim that). I knew moving to the mountains of Puerto Rico would be an adjustment. I am very appreciative of the acres of land I own. The beauty of my surrounding property is unbelievable, I don't take that for granted. I even own a personally inscribed machete, which I use for a plethora of farming activities. But why must all the fucking banana plants need to be harvested at the same time? Do you have any idea how much work it is to harvest bananas? I also did not appreciate my encounter with the biggest damn spider on earth last night. He was so big, he scared me and the cat.

There have been many other countless obstacles you have placed in my path in recent weeks/months. (need I remind you of the cuisinart incident?) So I am asking (on bended knee, if that will help) to please let the fuck up already. I want just one week of nothing. One week to listen to my ipod, get a good nights sleep, enjoy the sunshine, perhaps even finish the book I started 3 months ago. I want a week with no appointments, no fighting, no expectations other than happiness. I want a week where I can catch up with my email and return a few calls to my closest friends. I want a week where I am the focus, where I can make an appointment for a manicure and pedicure, get my hair dyed and perhaps even sit alone to ponder my "whatever" for at least an hour (uninterrupted, of course). I think you owe me that, so pay up, damn it.

In closing, let me just say that last thing you need is a pissed off Puerto Rican with her own machete, living in a place called the Asylum, deciding to get even. Your quick response will be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely, Eslocura

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Citizen of where?

My online shopping experience sucks pond scum. It appears that Amazon as well as several other companies can't ship anything but books to Puerto Rico. I tried everything to convince Amazon that I had no ill intentions or terrorist plans for the new Cuisinart hand held blender I was trying to purchase. But nada, nothing, no way.

No one is able to give me a valid reason for denying my purchase except that I live in a foreign country. What the hell does that mean? Most of these companies ship worldwide. Last time I checked, Puerto Rico was still part of the "world". Sadly we fall into that gray "we can't ship anything but books because we have no idea who or what you really are" category. This is just one of the many pitfalls with our "commonwealth" status.

Let me fill you in on some little known facts. (Just in case someone asks you, or in case you ever need to group together and come save me from the asylum.) Puerto Rico is NOT a foreign country. It is a Caribbean island, whose size is 100 by 35 miles, or roughly the size of Connecticut. Puerto Rico is a commonwealth of the U.S.A. Some reference materials claim we are a "possession" of the United States.

So what exactly does "commonwealth" mean? It means we are a territory/colony. It means we are citizens of the United States. It means we have authority over our internal affairs (as long as they do not conflict with the U.S.) and the United States, well, they pretty much control everything else. The major differences between Puerto Rico and the 50 states are it's local taxation system, exemption from IRS code, and we do not have voting representation in either house of congress nor can we vote for president. The U.S. President is our chief of state ( but we are not a state) and our head of government is an elected governor. (which we do elect).

As citizens of the United States we are subject to military service and most federal laws. We do not pay federal income tax on locally generated earnings but Puerto Rican income tax rates closely parallel federal-plus-state levies on the mainland. Our languages are English and Spanish, our monetary unit is the U.S. dollar, our major industries are pharmaceuticals, electronics, food products and tourism. We use the United States postal system, UPS and FedEx both ship here. So why the hell can't I purchase the lovely new Cuisinart hand held blender online and have it shipped to my home?

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Tag, I'm it

I've been tagged by Fringes, who actually posted over at Q's, and by Nina to participate in the latest meme. It's a food tag. I love food and I love being tagged. So I am playing: The Meme: list your top five local eating places.

There are few restaurants locally (by locally I mean in Aguas Buenas, where I live, there are more places to eat in San Juan but they mostly aim for the tourist market) All restaurants in my area are family type places, and all serve local Caribbean/Puerto Rican food. Our only chain restaurants are fast food places such as Mcd's, Wendy's and burger king. I don't go there. I can't link to any of my favorites because, well, these places are too small, and too local, and it's Puerto Rico, where technology still has a long way to go.

Puerto Rican cuisine has roots in Africa, Europe and the Americas. Most dishes still show traces of the original inhabitants of the island, the Taino and Arawak Indians. African cooks brought with them the preference for deep frying foods as well as cooking complex stews and rice dishes in iron pots, all of which are still near and dear to Puerto Rican hearts. From our Indian heritage comes our love of tropical roots and tubers. So enough with the history lesson here is my list:
  1. Don Jose's: A cafeteria style eatery. Serves nothing but traditional fair with plenty of cold beer. It has a huge outdoor seating area with great views of lush mountains and palm trees. Live folkloric music and dancers on weekends. Great Pork, chicken, fish and flan.
  2. El CocoTazo: this is more along the lines of a dive bar but with fabulous appetizers. They serve mostly fried stuff, such as empanadas, chicharones and alcapurrias. On the weekends they open at 6am. They serve hearty stews and soups at that hour. These are traditional breakfast choices on weekends. They also serve mondongo, which is really disgusting. It's a stew with parts of the cow that really should have been thrown out. Their claim to fame is drinks served in fresh coconuts.
  3. Los Corditos: this is perhaps as close to a local chain restaurant as we get. There are 3 of them on the island. Great chicharones (chicken, pork or fish), mofongo (not to be confused with modongo, this is made from green plantains), and coconut based deserts.
  4. Road side stand: the most common food stop on the island are road side stands. My favorite is one owned by a father and son team. Whole chickens cooked over charcoal. You can purchase a whole spicy chicken with enough sides (plus bread) to feed a family of 4 for just $5.
  5. Guavate: open only on weekends. It's an entire road of outdoor restaurants specializing in whole roasted pigs cooked over an open fire. This is the epitome of the Puerto Rican food experience. It's all about food, friends, family, culture and heritage.
Go over and visit either of these bloggers Nicole and Velverse for a full list of everyone who has participated in this tag, it now numbers over 150. And by all means, feel free to TAG yourself and tell me and everyone else about the great local food in your part of the world.

Sunday, May 13, 2007


I was woken up today at 4:05AM by our town crier. Our town crier is a big old truck with huge speakers mounted on top. He goes up and down these winding country roads and makes announcements about all sorts of things. (it helps to keep all of us "in the loop"). This morning (did I mention it was 4:05AM) was the "Felize dia de las Madres" songs and announcements. WTF. There were sad, sappy songs playing, and of course the yearly mothers day wishes from our mayor. Now, why the mayor felt that 4:05 AM was a good time for loud, blaring, music coupled with Mothers day wishes, is a mystery to me. (did I mention it was 4:05AM) Now, I am wide awake and the roosters are crowing, the coffee is brewing, and as long as I am here, Felize dia de las Madres ... Happy Mothers day. (from me and the town crier)

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Whose your daddy?

Once when he couldn't find "his" hairbrush for the 100Th time, left the house and came back completely bald, exclaiming "enjoy my brush, I don't need it". We never used his hairbrush again.
In a restaurant, started a food fight with his salad. Laughed hysterically when other patrons joined in. When the manager came over to the table, blamed it on his kids. We were asked to leave and never return.

He cried as he told us that when he first got married he told his wife he didn't want children. Not because he didn't yearn to have them but because he feared he would not be a good father and provide for them adequately.

He once worked 2 full time jobs (in separate factories) for 13 months (80-90 hours a week) to provide a better living environment for us and not once, not ever, did we hear him complain or say he was tired.

He joined the U.S. Army and served in the Korean War. While enlisted learned to speak English, became a master Sargent, and taught weapons classes.

He got his High School equivalency diploma when he was 29 years old.

Always told his children how much they were loved, how special they were, and how much he believed in them.

He once stood under a rain spout in full view of the whole neighborhood and pretended to shower during a torrential rain storm just to make us laugh.

Despite negative comments from his male friends (mostly macho Puerto Ricans), treated his wife as an equal partner, even did house work. A very big deal in our culture.

He Started an exercise/boxing gym in the basement of our tenement building because he feared for the kids in the neighborhood. He wanted them to have a safe place to spend their free time. He demanded respect, encouraged laughter and pushed education.

Was "father of the bride" for several cousins and friends. Every one's favorite uncle.

The only man I ever sang to, and whose knee I drew a happy face on and when it started to fade, he asked me to re-draw it.

I would need many blog entries to list all his fabulous traits and all his random acts of kindness. He is the standard by which I judge all men in my life. He taught me to always be true to myself, the importance of honesty, compassion, hard work, devotion to family, love of music and nature. He taught me to honor friendship and life. That respect was earned and given to all beings. That charity is a noble act. That no matter how hard and harsh life gets, laughter heals. That to love and be loved is one of life greatest gift, so love unconditionally and without fear.

The dictionary defines "worship" as reverent honor and homaged paid to a God or sacred personage, an adoring regard. I worship my dad. I am a product of incredible parents. Parents who with much love and sacrifice, offered me the world and encouraged my exploration of it. Parents who were never afraid to dream, grab and hold on to all of life's possibilities. I can't imagine my father fearing he wouldn't be a good parent. In my eyes, Papi, there couldn't have been a more perfect daddy.

Happy 75Th Birthday.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

You dirty Rat

When I lived in Brooklyn (on Euclid Ave.) our apartment had it's share of rodents and cockroaches. This was not unique to our apartment, it was a neighborhood thing. We just learned to live with it, because frankly what choice was there? Landlords certainly didn't care, and except for an occasional can of Raid, it was beyond anything we could do.

We learned never leave anything edible out. If it didn't come in a can or a jar, it went in the fridge. We washed everything before we used it, glasses, utensils, pots and pans, everything was washed. We even kept our toothbrushes inside a sealed tall jar. (they sometimes smelled funky from the jar but at least we knew there weren't any nasty bug germs on them.) If we even suspected a cockroach or mouse might have come close to something, we dipped it in boiling water, then washed it. Then washed it some more.

One night while lying in bed, I heard a strange rustling. I tried to ignore it, strange noises were nothing unusual in my neighborhood. It continued for a while so I reach up and turned on the light. I screamed as I made eye contact with the largest rat I had ever seen. The rat stood up on his hind legs and mocked me, then quick as a flash he was gone. My parents slept through the whole thing. The next morning they claimed to have "maybe" heard what could have been a scream but like I said strange noises were common place in my neighborhood, so they ignored it.

I told them I saw the largest rat ever, the size of a kitten, I swear, it was huge. They laughed said it was a mouse, said I was dreaming. WTF. It was a rat, a big ugly mocking rat. My encounter with the rat continued for several days. I set up little meeting places, knowing he would come and mock me. One night my dad came home from work: it was around 2AM. As he sat on the only chair we owned, eating he re-heated supper, who should make an appearance but the rat. My dad screamed, I giggled in bed. Next morning I woke up feeling happy , they had to believe me now, that rat was huge.

My dad went out and got a mouse trap and set upon killing the rat. First night, the rat ate the cheese, ran away. Second night, same thing. Third night, my dad set out cheese dipped in peanut butter. The rat lingered too long at the trap and snap! Caught him. What my dad failed to realize was that the mouse trap was smaller than the rat and although it caught him, the rat ran around the house, squealing, caught in the mouse trap. We all got up to watch the carnage. That damn rat bled all over the place. My dad had a hammer in hand now, chasing the rat, the rat running and bleeding, the mouse trap still attached to him. My mom screaming. Me laughing. The rat got awful tired. I'm sure it was due to blood loss and carrying the mouse trap around the whole house. My dad won.

I can still picture the look of amazement on my parents faces as they looked in awe at the size of that rat. There was so much blood splattered around our living room and kitchen that it could have made the news. Complete carnage in Brooklyn. Fun turns to tragedy, film at 11.

So my little huckleberries, next time your kids claim to see a rat, a big, huge rat, the size of a kitten, don't chalk it up to their exaggerated child's imagination. Take it from me, big kitten size rats really do exist. For a rat size trap (patent pending), as well as the cheese to peanut butter ratio, feel free to call or email me.

Saturday, May 05, 2007


I fear that my frustration level will reach record highs, soon. I fear that this fucking week will never end. I fear that I am not living up to my potential. I fear that I may have to make decisions I am not ready to make. I fear that the full moon really does make people nuts. I fear that recently I have possibly been the most angry I have even been in my life. I fear that I have come into contact with more stupid people this week than should ever be allowed to happen. I fear that getting my hair cut and dyed will have to wait a couple more weeks. I fear I have given up on getting a manicure and pedicure anytime soon. I fear that my insomnia is rearing it's ugly head and I am not happy about it. I fear slowly losing those I love. I fear I may never get my damn living room painted. I fear that I have way too many new lessons to learn and I just don't have the energy. I fear that this week I was treading water for so long I almost gave up and went under. I fear darkness when I don't feel I am in secure surroundings. I fear my 6Th sense has left the building because I am so tired, so often. I fear I didn't sign up for this job but it was, the cards I was dealt. I fear I am so not in control of my emotions. I fear I feel a tinge of loneliness yet I am never alone. I fear I have forgotten how to do small things with great love. I fear that I am so filled with fear.

Friday, May 04, 2007

Just a thought ...

You know those moments when a completely crazy thought pops into your head. The kind of moment when you are spaced out, or bored, perhaps just so damn tired that you can almost fall asleep but you don't. The kind of moment when you don't feel like anything, almost numb, everything seems so blah. And then an Epiphany ... what if they were to make a movie about me? ... all of a sudden you perk up, "it's crazy but it could work". I'm not really stuck on Salma Hayek playing the part of me. For one thing, she is Mexican and I am Puerto Rican. For another thing, since she played the part of Frieda Kahlo (which I loved) I can't picture her without the uni-brow thing, and I think that would freak me out on the set. However, I sure do admire her political activism. I am more the Rosie Perez type. She's Puerto Rican, as am I. She has an accent, I have an accent (on occasion) She's from New York, I grew up in Brooklyn, she did a documentary about Puerto Rico, I live in Puerto Rico. But she wouldn't answer her phone, no matter how many times I called today. (Rosie, if you are reading this, call me) As my lead paramour I don't care for Colin Farrell but he was the only one I could get to pose for the poster on such short notice. I'd cast Raul Julia but he's dead. I'm rather fond of Ruben Blades because even though he isn't a great actor, I love his music and again, I admire his activism. I have no idea what the movie would be like, I don't have a script or anything. I'll just cast the leading roles first and worry about the details later ... just a thought.

Feel free to tell me who would play the part of you in a movie, or who would play me, or better yet, got the phone number to some sexy leading man?

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

As the BLOG turns ...

The interviewing continues in the blogging world. Fringes who has her own unique way of engaging in meme's decided to twist the rules and rather than ask questions herself, has paired up her readers. Q and I have been paired, he the interviewer and yo soy la interviewee. (Be afraid my friends, be very afraid.) Unlike Jali, whose questions I greeted with open arms, I must say I had a bit of trepidation about the "infamous" Q. But hey, you know me, I may not be a kabuki dancer, or a monkey trainer, or even a grave digger, but I am a damn good team player.

Q: I'm getting bored with Fringes. Are you looking for a new lover? What if I told you I'm available? Are you available to do laundry? cook my meals? chauffeur me around? keep me in the lifestyle in which I have become accustomed? If your answer to any of these questions is "no" ... then NO, I am not looking for a new lover. My current lover is fun, cute, witty and incredibly generous, makes him a very hard act to follow.

Q: I've never been to Puerto Rico. If I had only one day to see the must-see sights, where would you take me? Impossible to see all the "must-see" spots in one day but some of my favorites are: "El Morro" (first stop, it's close to the airport), it's a fortress, and a national monument. Also, one of the most photographed spots in Puerto Rico. On to "El Yunque" our rain forest. The only tropical forest in the United States National forest system. 28,000 acres of water falls, monkeys, parrots and you know, all that stuff associated with a rain forest except deadly snakes. Next stop "The Arecibo Observatory". It's the world's largest single-dish radio telescope. Like I always say, you haven't lived until you have seen the "world's largest something". By now, I think we would be hungry and when you are hungry in Puerto Rico you think PORK. So we head to "Guavate", its Lechoneras (slow turning rotisserie over an open flame, usually the whole pig). Many restaurants/stands lining a long picturesque road. Musicians, plenty of Medalla Beer and Palo Viejo rum (that Bacardi shit is for tourists). Last but not least the "Camuy Caverns", pretty groovy and we get to sit and ride a tram for a little while, I'm tired after this whirlwind sightseeing. OK, Q trip is over, time to go home, get out, come back when you have at least week, I'll show you the rest of the island.

Q: Is Eslocura Spanish for hot blogger chick? If not, what else can it possibly mean? YES, absolutely, no doubt, it means "hot blogger chick". (but if it had to mean something else, it might mean Es=it's Locura=chronic psychosis).

Q: Besides lube, name 10 non-edible uses for apple jelly. (you did research, am impressed) Glue, Face wrinkle remover (pectin is a natural wrinkle remover, few people know this, but I am pleased to educate), shoe shine (a little sticky but it is shiny), insecticide (doesn't actually kill the bugs but they get stuck, which could lead to death), embalming fluid (it's what the ancient Egyptians used), cat shampoo (I use bungee cords to keep him still), sunscreen ( SPF 0.2), toilet bowl cleaner (another advantage to pectin), perfume (dab a little behind both ears.), electrical outlet tester (watch the sparks).

Q: I personally like to receive. Which do you enjoy? Giving or receiving? (This question may have some sexual innuendo/connotation to some but not to me.) I'm a taker. I don't share well so by default "giving" isn't my thing. However I do receive well, things like jewelery and expensive shoes are receiving favorites.

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