Virgins in Porsches

Another wannabe with blind ambition,

Italian Singing Nun Sister Cristina

would like to see Madonna’s face when

she hears the nun singing Like a Virgin.

Like, I think she would turn in her grave.

Oh, wait she means the other Madonna —

with Blond Ambition who POPularized being

a virgin grossing lots of moolah from sales

of rosaries, crucifix earrings and lace gloves.

The Pope had warned his flock to look away.

See The Racing Nun laughing all the way to the Vatican

Bank in her new Porsche from their corporate charity

event held in the Sistine Chapel at $5900 a head.

The Pope looks the other way, Madonna gasps

from the grave and Jesus topples tables in the temple.

Do You Pop Out at Parties? Boots or Huaraches?

Speaking of Presidents, Poop, Paltrow and Parties (yesterday’s blog), do you pop out at parties? Do you feel unpoopular? Well, do you?

This is something I’d like to explore about myself and welcome your comments and feedback. We all feel different at times and sometimes unpopular. I know I have and it’s all about perspective, isn’t it? I don’t think anyone else in my family feels the same as I do.

My father was a gringo and my mother a Mexican, so what did that make me?  I’m only half, only a part of two different cultures. Pulled apart like carnitas. Where was I to fit in? Does the boot fit or the huarache?

Boots or guaraches?
Boots or huaraches?


No solo soy gringa con sangre azul, I was born in the barrio during a time when Mexican parents insisted their children abandon their language and yet my gringo father insisted I speak Spanish. My Mexican mother made tortillas but insisted I use the right fork and proper English.

I love that our country is filled with such a mosaic of people and cultures. What has been your experience trying to fit in?

The President, The Poop Pump and Paltrow

SHut up, suit up and show up.
It’s a dirty job, but some of us only get to
pilot a client’s yacht to the poop pump.
Mooring with a failed engine, a tricky maneuver
especially when dumping waste at the pump.
But, hey, we all do what we gotta do, and as I jump
from deck to dock, I see a seagull, or is it a plane?
and land on my butt and my back and see not stars
but Marine One escorting our President someplace.
It’s a tough job but somebody’s got to pilot
the President to Gwyneth Paltrow’s party
where he’ll chat about such topics as Isis,
Ebola and the upcoming elections.
Hey, some people get to don a tuxedo,
others of us, an orange hazmat suit.
As Marine One flies over, I’m able to lift
my head to salute. Nothing broken. Thank
God for ObamaCare, just in case I can’t
roll over, stand up, and limp to the pump,
to press the button to dump the poop
After all, we all gotta do (and speaking of do)…