Is life worth living?
Aye, with the best of us,
Heights of us, depths of us-
Life is the test of us!
-Corinne Roosevelt Robinson
Gozando de la vida,
P. Suave
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
10th Year
Today dear Pepina and I celebrate 10 years of marriage.
There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.
-Martin Luther, Table Talk (1569)
Me quedo bien contento,
Sr. P. Suave
Esposo de Ingrid
There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.
-Martin Luther, Table Talk (1569)
Me quedo bien contento,
Sr. P. Suave
Esposo de Ingrid
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Teacher's Lounge Joke
O.K. kids, ear muffs. Ear muffs for the easily offended, as well. Ear muffs for the Pepinoville Public School District (PPSD) Administration, too. This entry had better not end up in my file, or the Pepinoville Education Association (PEA) will get involved. This was done on my home computer, o.k. educational leaders, no caps? Loosen up or don the ear muffs. Your call.
The following is a glimpse into the heart of Pepinoville's finest educational institution, La Escuela de Expectaciones Realisticas, where No Child is Left Behind Mrs. Pedos, as she has chronic gastro-intestinal problems. Anyway, the heart of any school is, of course, the teachers lounge. We here at Pepino Suave's Mobile Warehouse of Yippee-Skippee Games, Songs, Stories (PSMWYSGSS) know the public's image of the average lounge of teachers: middle-aged geeks hunched over spelling quizes with flailing red pens. In reality, we are a hip group of wise acres like the docs on Scrubs, and PSMWYSGSS seeks to promote and/or embelish that image. Nothing gets by us practical joking pedogogins. Here is a sample of the ironic hilarity found in the room labeled "Staff", located between the midget drinking fountains, and the room labeled "Do not Enter" where Mr. Dormilon, the janitor, naps during school hours:
A young schoolteacher barges into the principal's office in a panic.
"I just caught three boys trying to see how high up the toilet wall they could pee."
"What did you do?" asked the principal.
"Well, I hit the ceiling," the teacher told him.
"Good job!" said the principal, "That's one for the staff."
Oh, man, we laughed 'till the bell rang.
O.K. Earmuffs off. As you were...
Con mucha risa,
Pepino Comico
The following is a glimpse into the heart of Pepinoville's finest educational institution, La Escuela de Expectaciones Realisticas, where No Child is Left Behind Mrs. Pedos, as she has chronic gastro-intestinal problems. Anyway, the heart of any school is, of course, the teachers lounge. We here at Pepino Suave's Mobile Warehouse of Yippee-Skippee Games, Songs, Stories (PSMWYSGSS) know the public's image of the average lounge of teachers: middle-aged geeks hunched over spelling quizes with flailing red pens. In reality, we are a hip group of wise acres like the docs on Scrubs, and PSMWYSGSS seeks to promote and/or embelish that image. Nothing gets by us practical joking pedogogins. Here is a sample of the ironic hilarity found in the room labeled "Staff", located between the midget drinking fountains, and the room labeled "Do not Enter" where Mr. Dormilon, the janitor, naps during school hours:
A young schoolteacher barges into the principal's office in a panic.
"I just caught three boys trying to see how high up the toilet wall they could pee."
"What did you do?" asked the principal.
"Well, I hit the ceiling," the teacher told him.
"Good job!" said the principal, "That's one for the staff."
Oh, man, we laughed 'till the bell rang.
O.K. Earmuffs off. As you were...
Con mucha risa,
Pepino Comico
Obras de Coco Loco
Below are the last handful of Bob el Gorila episodes, the creation of Blessed Breading's bilingual artist, comedian, and probably one of the finest Napolean Dynomite dancers this side of Rio Pepino, the distiguished Coco Loco. Double click to enlarge. Enjoy.
Con todo gusto,
Pepino Fanatico
Con todo gusto,
Pepino Fanatico
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Fallen Heroes
Flags are at half-staff this week in honor of police officers killed in the line of duty.
Que Dios les bendiga a los que nos protegen,
P.S.
Que Dios les bendiga a los que nos protegen,
P.S.
Grannyisms
Thimble Pie- a flick of the index finger applied to the skull at a torque rate equivalent to the strike of a tightly-wound cobra, or a snapped bungy cord. Leaves a sensation of combined shame, grief, and the pain of a migraine.
As in, "I beat Granny at sixteen hands of Pay The Man and she gave me a mighty thimble pie." or, "I left my science project on Granny's bed so she cracked me from behind with a thimble pie. Where are the 22's*?"
Me hace falta mi abuela,
Pepino Nieto
*Canadian over-the-counter, eh, painkiller with the potency of morphine.
As in, "I beat Granny at sixteen hands of Pay The Man and she gave me a mighty thimble pie." or, "I left my science project on Granny's bed so she cracked me from behind with a thimble pie. Where are the 22's*?"
Me hace falta mi abuela,
Pepino Nieto
*Canadian over-the-counter, eh, painkiller with the potency of morphine.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
DeSoap
This just in from Pepinoville's newspaper, The Pepinoville Rag: the personal driver for one of Pepinoville's Royalty, Suds DeSoap (heir to the vast AltiSoap - formerly called AmSoap- fortune) was arrested for driving under the influence while Mr. DeSoap was attending the Bono "Incredibly Rich Celebrity With a Cause" lecture at the DeSoap Memorial Structure Number 13 on Friday evening. Mr. DeSoap's 2005 Maserati was impounded and his driver, Mr. Juan Sanchez de la Montoya Jackson, an employee of AltiSoap earning a salary reportedly in the six figures, spent the night in the DeSoap Memorial Jail. He was released after a $186,98,098.09 bond was anonymously paid Saturday morning. Meanwhile, AIDS and poverty continue in Africa, as do Bono's lecture tour and young DeSoap's trust funds.
More to follow.
Al dia,
Pepino Periodista
More to follow.
Al dia,
Pepino Periodista
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Ladronasos
We got hit.
Pepina and I, combined, have lived a good score or so years in places usually refered to as, "Don't Go There", or "Why Would You Live There?", or "Where? You Crazy?" In fact, upon moving from Detroit to Colombia, we justified it by citing the Motown's murder stats in comparison to Colombia's. It was a wash.
Anyway, here we find ourselves tucked into tranquil Cuke County, home of good schools, high-fat foods, and a smile-and-a-how-do-you-do as the town motto. The police are at their busiest chasing our toilet paper or spray-paint lugging children, or escorting the local royalty, the DeSoap family. Everything the Family Suave wanted in order to raise our Li'l Pepinita in peace, neighborliness, and tasty but life-shortening food (the Red Hot Pickle has a three-for-one chili dog special on Mondays, two-for-one chiliburger on Tuesdays. The relish bar is stocked with real mayo and butter).
Well, last night Pepina's Asian Express was broken into while we slept. Yep. We think the pickled perps were the Dark Side version of Barney Fife, 'cause they didn't get the little rice burner, and they and/or their get-away vehicle sustained some damage, because the Asian Express, discovered in the middle of Roux Relish by our neighbor (El Indigeno, as he cradled his teething new born and sipped NyQuil), had its driver's side door torn forward, crumpled into the quarter panel. Musta' hurt.
Pepinoville's Finest arrived toot-sweet, took a report, and were on their way to a garage break-in within minutes (garage break-ins are epidemic in Pepinoville. We are the Garage Break-in Capital of the World. Colombia doesn't even come close).
The Asian Express sits forlornly in the P. Suave One Car Garage. Tomorrow Yours Truly will investigate how the years of premium payments, combined with zero claims history, will result in major frustrations for this auto owner.
Luchando por la justicia,
Pepino Sin Coche
Pepina and I, combined, have lived a good score or so years in places usually refered to as, "Don't Go There", or "Why Would You Live There?", or "Where? You Crazy?" In fact, upon moving from Detroit to Colombia, we justified it by citing the Motown's murder stats in comparison to Colombia's. It was a wash.
Anyway, here we find ourselves tucked into tranquil Cuke County, home of good schools, high-fat foods, and a smile-and-a-how-do-you-do as the town motto. The police are at their busiest chasing our toilet paper or spray-paint lugging children, or escorting the local royalty, the DeSoap family. Everything the Family Suave wanted in order to raise our Li'l Pepinita in peace, neighborliness, and tasty but life-shortening food (the Red Hot Pickle has a three-for-one chili dog special on Mondays, two-for-one chiliburger on Tuesdays. The relish bar is stocked with real mayo and butter).
Well, last night Pepina's Asian Express was broken into while we slept. Yep. We think the pickled perps were the Dark Side version of Barney Fife, 'cause they didn't get the little rice burner, and they and/or their get-away vehicle sustained some damage, because the Asian Express, discovered in the middle of Roux Relish by our neighbor (El Indigeno, as he cradled his teething new born and sipped NyQuil), had its driver's side door torn forward, crumpled into the quarter panel. Musta' hurt.
Pepinoville's Finest arrived toot-sweet, took a report, and were on their way to a garage break-in within minutes (garage break-ins are epidemic in Pepinoville. We are the Garage Break-in Capital of the World. Colombia doesn't even come close).
The Asian Express sits forlornly in the P. Suave One Car Garage. Tomorrow Yours Truly will investigate how the years of premium payments, combined with zero claims history, will result in major frustrations for this auto owner.
Luchando por la justicia,
Pepino Sin Coche
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Beisbol
Pepinita's team won atleast one of the games today. We aren't supposed to keep score. There are no losers in this league. Well, maybe one: Pepino "Boom Boom" Suave. Let me explain, if an explanation is possible.
All went well the first game and a half. It was a perfect baseball morning, what with the sun, fresh cut grass, and uniformed tykes running in all directions around the Pepinoville Baseball Complex. A Beaver mascot benevolently terrorized Pepinita and neighbor Zanahoria. Coaches sheparded their flocks to the appropriate dugouts. Pepinita and her teammates showed a lot of progress, and played like they were enjoying themselves. We fans kicked back, relaxed, cheered, and felt that, yes, baseball is the finest sport on earth. Then I revealed to the whole Pepinoville community my lack of baseball prowess.
Bompa, Grandma, and Pepina and I were seated behind the backstop. We saw a few foul balls whiz past during the double header; one actually glanced off of Grandma's outstretched hands as she protected her face (Bompa would'a caught that one if it weren't for the hot coffee he had in his hand). Eventually a ball got tipped back in our direction again. I write "in our direction,"but I went for it as if it were just out of my reach and I were to have some semblance of coordination. I jumped in to the air, me and my collapsable Coleman chair airborn, the tips of my fingers coming within a few dozen feet of the softball, only to come crashing to earth, my crumpled seat first, then me on top of it. As I began to untangle myself from the chair and some scrub that I had rolled into, there was a quiet come over the crowd. Once I was standing and awkwardly readjusting my chair, laughter drowned out the chirping of birds, buzzing of insects, and squeeking of the chair. My parents had their heads in their hands, and Pepina appeared to be weeping. You could sense the kids were feeling much more comfortable about their ability level. The parents had a look on their faces like their property value had suddenly nose-dived.
I felt as big as a guerkin.
Desequilibrado,
P. " Boom Boom" Suave
All went well the first game and a half. It was a perfect baseball morning, what with the sun, fresh cut grass, and uniformed tykes running in all directions around the Pepinoville Baseball Complex. A Beaver mascot benevolently terrorized Pepinita and neighbor Zanahoria. Coaches sheparded their flocks to the appropriate dugouts. Pepinita and her teammates showed a lot of progress, and played like they were enjoying themselves. We fans kicked back, relaxed, cheered, and felt that, yes, baseball is the finest sport on earth. Then I revealed to the whole Pepinoville community my lack of baseball prowess.
Bompa, Grandma, and Pepina and I were seated behind the backstop. We saw a few foul balls whiz past during the double header; one actually glanced off of Grandma's outstretched hands as she protected her face (Bompa would'a caught that one if it weren't for the hot coffee he had in his hand). Eventually a ball got tipped back in our direction again. I write "in our direction,"but I went for it as if it were just out of my reach and I were to have some semblance of coordination. I jumped in to the air, me and my collapsable Coleman chair airborn, the tips of my fingers coming within a few dozen feet of the softball, only to come crashing to earth, my crumpled seat first, then me on top of it. As I began to untangle myself from the chair and some scrub that I had rolled into, there was a quiet come over the crowd. Once I was standing and awkwardly readjusting my chair, laughter drowned out the chirping of birds, buzzing of insects, and squeeking of the chair. My parents had their heads in their hands, and Pepina appeared to be weeping. You could sense the kids were feeling much more comfortable about their ability level. The parents had a look on their faces like their property value had suddenly nose-dived.
I felt as big as a guerkin.
Desequilibrado,
P. " Boom Boom" Suave
Double Header
Pepinita Pelotera has a machine-pitch double header today: 9:00 and 10:30 games at the Pepinoville Municipal Ball Park. As I write these words, dear Pepinita is getting "stylish" for the games. Rumor has it that Bompa, Grandma, and Opa (and quite possibly Contadora and Califacador) will be among the throngs of spectators. Game one is against our delightful neighbor pal, Zanahoria.
I'll bring my camera.
Papa Pelotero,
P.Suave
I'll bring my camera.
Papa Pelotero,
P.Suave
Monday, May 01, 2006
Canoli Update
Just back from the communion double header at my brother, Casi Italiano's house. Although I am short of time, I am compelled to dispute People magazine's report, in their May 1 edition, that my dear sister-in-law, Salsa de Tomate, provided a mere 2.6 : 1 canoli to guest ratio. In reality, it was a precise 4.89776 : 1 canoli ratio. I was there.
Comiamos mucho,
Pepino Sin Leche de Magisia
Comiamos mucho,
Pepino Sin Leche de Magisia
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