Anything and Everything

Well its been awhile since I have written anything, or used a computer for something productive. A number of factors contributed to this. 1.) I am in Mexico and don't really feel like sitting behind a computer, when I can easily be eating taco's instead. 2.) I was being held hostage by a group of bandito's who have been forcing me to drink beer and learn to body surf. 3.) The Vikings suck to all holy hell. 4.) Did I mention the banditos?

The Orphanage fund raiser.

A few weeks back Rachel a friend of ours (Martin) and I went to the local orphanage fund raiser (read; bar that was accepting donations for a local orphanage, and live music).

We hung around until we (martin after a few tequila shooters) were ready to sing Karaoke, which of course meant that all of us were really drunk. And of course that meant they wanted us to leave. Getting drunk for charity is hard work.

Having drunk the most expensive "Irish car Bomb" in history (110 pesos, about $10 for you Yanks) we headed home to tacos in the street, and a pounding headache.

The Toilet Explosion

It was a Thursday if memory serves me correctly, and I was just taking some time out of my very busy schedule to commune with the bathroom. Once my business was completed, I flushed and was ready to be on my marry way. When all of a sudden I hear a gurgling from the shower. In what could have been the biggest mistake I have made in years, I walked over to the shower to investigate. Upon getting to the shower, I noticed a peculiar smell. The noise continued to stream out of the shower drain as with this new found smell. Then up came the water, the very dark water.

I immediately did what any other sane person would have done in my place. I shut the door, walked over to the other bedroom and asked Rachel "What have you done?". This did not get the "ha-ha" funny response I was looking for. So the plumbers were called. Now a quick side not for those of you who do not live in Mexico. Things here work very slowly, and I do mean very slowly. The plumbers were dispatched on Thursday morning. Figuring that we had a day of no plumbing we took a first class trip (the bus) to Puerto Vallarta to stay at a friend’s condo and eat pizza. Unfortunately my camera died as soon as I got there so I don't have that many pictures.

On arrival we stopped at possibly the most inappropriate restaurant this side of the Texas border.

Yes that is the name of the restaurant. And yes, there special was "What up my negro?" (Translated, it consisted of fish and shrimp in some sort of sauce). The food was actually really good, but the theme made me think that there might be a little something amiss in this town.

Come that night we met up with some friends from Colorado, and showed the town what stupid is all about. We made it to a sports bar in time to see a terrible Monday night football game, and have the luck to be seated next to some really asshole'ish Americans. After the game was locked up (screw the Giants) we made it to one of the weirdest bars I have ever heard of, or been too. The front door was a beaded curtain, and once you walked inside you found to your amazement that the inside consisted of a very small bar and two couches. There are two girls in cow patterned cowboy hats, offering drinks. I was sort of wondering if we hadn't walked into an opium bar. After the first round of shots, I in my absolute genius and my best broken Spanish try to get a vodka/read bull thinking that a little energy will get me threw the night. The girl acted like she understood me and disappeared behind the bar. She comes back with a slur pee sized glass that matches her cow patterned cowboy hat. In my new found glory of getting an order right in Spanish, I try to slam half of it, waiting to taste the sweetness that is energy drink and booze. Only to my absolute horror I found that I was drinking a glass of ice, beer from a keg, and huge pebbles of salt. The old Zach would have just kept drinking it like nothing had happened. But I am not that man anymore, I am El Poncho Gringo! So I took another shot of tequila poured in that glass and called it a night. Or so I thought. While I was dealing with a disastrous drink situation the women took it upon themselves to come up with the idea that we should go dancing. El Poncho Gringo does, and should not dance. Of course I was overruled. The next few hours, consisted of me taking shot after shot from one of the ladies that came around with a tequila and stuff. They do a very fun dance around your body, then blow a whistle and our tequila down your throat at the rate of 5 shots a minute, with added pouring your beer down your pants. Come the next morning, my friend Martin who had come out with us summed it up best "That is last time I take shots from women with a tequila bottles in a holster".

On the ride back from Puerto Vallarta we had time to discuss the pluming situation. My money was riding on them having not completed it, or gotten any farther since we saw them last (Friday). Rachel was thinking that they should be completed with everything it being Tuesday and all. Silly Gringa. We arrived home and yes they were at the house, no the job wasn't done. They would, over the course of four days and five phone calls to the property management office, take all the toilets out, take all the drains out of the showers. And track the dark water all over the house. Rachel was horrified, I got drunk and pissed in the biffy that we have on site. In the end the wonderfully guys that work at the construction site came in cleaned up the dark water and fixed the plumbing. From start to finish this took about a week. The final problem, sand in the sewer pipes. Final cost around $700 USD. The ordeal did give me a great idea, toilets in the showers, think about it.

The Appy Party

We have met more then a few people while living in Mexico, its currently still the "slow" season. Therefore most of them are people who live here for a good part of the year. One such person is our friend Gary. Gary is from Canada and has told me on a number of occasions that its only a matter of time until Canada takes over the United States.

Everybody meet sober Gary

One day Gary asked Rachel and I, if we would be interested in attending his Appy party. I was like "Gary what's an Appy party?". He explained that in Canada they have Appetizer party's, what we in the states call a pot-luck. Those weirdo Canadians.

Gary goes on to explain that he will be hiring one of the local musicians who plays on the beach. An hombre called Fausto!. Fausto! has agreed to play from 7-9PM. On the appointed day Rachel and I prepared our appetizers. These would consist of taco roll ups (special thanks to Mandi for the recipe, unfortunately she and her recipe get around too much, and two other people brought the same thing. I of course preferred Rachel’s, but I am biased to good looking women) and I made pineapple with skewers of fresh basil, tomato and cheese. And to spice things up I also made teriyaki chicken ka-boobs that I brought my new Smoky Joe Webber grill over to make. (the same grill I left behind that night. Only for Gary’s super-duper awesome housekeeper to mistaken it for Gary’s and cleaned to a near perfect shine).

We showed up and were promptly greeted with beers and shouts of " Hola!". Everything was as expected, food, beer and the wonderment I like to refer to as Fausto! (his name is to be pronounced with exclamation mark by rule) He showed up with gusto and left falling down the stairs.

This couple was nice enough a few days later to donate 150 books to the "Zach is really bored" cause. Which worked out in two ways, one I was able to stop reading the discarded porno magazines the construction workers leave on our site, and two I was able to trade in the books I didn't want to the used book store here in town for credit. I now have somewhere in the neighborhood of $100,000 pesos in credit for used books. It’s good to be rich at the book store.

Gary is not only Canadian but a chick hound. Little did he know that Rachel does not consort with his type (Canadian).

So back to Fausto!. He came by right in time for the party to get in full swing. It was as if he was just waiting for the right energy. He played traditional Mexican folk songs for approximately two hours. After which he played a mix between Joe Kick ass style mumbling and Mexican folk songs. Apparently while I was cooking the chicken they started feeding him tequila. And for that he stayed two hours passed the time he was booked for.

Fausto!

After the final song as we left Gary's with Fausto! in tow. He was having some difficulties with the stairs and speaking. I helped him down the steps and he was on his marry way.

THE END

Or, so it was for me. But not for poor Fausto! I found out the following day he had wondered (stumbled) down to the beach, where he fell asleep. And was then mugged by the police, who took all his money. Poor Fausto!

Home