Something needs to be done about these immigration policy problems, and done quickly. Yesterday I was gassing up my Accord when, out of nowhere, stormed a bunch of Mexican bandidos on four wheelers. As I approached the gas station doors, they circled me, firing cap guns in the air, and shouting "AYE! AYE! AYE! AREEBA!"
I was scared.
When they stopped circling, the leader told me that if I knew what was good for myself, I'd go for a little ride with them. Figuring my initial judgement of them to be harsh and stereotypical, I decided to give the Mexicans a second chance at a first impression; I smiled and gladly accepted his offer for a ride.
Five hours later I was tied up in their countryside shack, while they force-fed me burritoes and drew a handlebar moustache on my face. What a wretched mistake I'd made. I could tell these guys were real professionals and feared for my life. There were a few moments when I felt pretty special though; I think they mistook me for one of The Beatles. Every other word pointed in my direction was "Gringo" this and "Gringo" that. At least that was nice.
Probably the worst moment of the day was when they made me wear a Mariachi outfit, and had me declare my love for Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass. I don't really love Herb Alpert, but in between takes the leader kept shouting, "Say it, bitch!"
Finally, they tired of torturing me and I was set free, but not before they gave me three glasses of Tequila. Stumbling through rural roads, wearing a mariachi outfit, a drawn on moustache, and three sheets to the wind, I was arrested by a trooper for being an illegal alien. En route to the Trooper's Barracks I lost consciousness, and somewhere along those lines it was realized that a mistake had been made. I didn't get home until this afternoon, and I still have a huge black smudge above my lip, but I'll never forget the friends I made at that shack, and those wise words they shared with me, "Los Lobos kick your ass. Los Lobos kick your face. Los Lobos kick your balls into Outer-Space."
Absolutely brilliant.
I was scared.
When they stopped circling, the leader told me that if I knew what was good for myself, I'd go for a little ride with them. Figuring my initial judgement of them to be harsh and stereotypical, I decided to give the Mexicans a second chance at a first impression; I smiled and gladly accepted his offer for a ride.
Five hours later I was tied up in their countryside shack, while they force-fed me burritoes and drew a handlebar moustache on my face. What a wretched mistake I'd made. I could tell these guys were real professionals and feared for my life. There were a few moments when I felt pretty special though; I think they mistook me for one of The Beatles. Every other word pointed in my direction was "Gringo" this and "Gringo" that. At least that was nice.
Probably the worst moment of the day was when they made me wear a Mariachi outfit, and had me declare my love for Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass. I don't really love Herb Alpert, but in between takes the leader kept shouting, "Say it, bitch!"
Finally, they tired of torturing me and I was set free, but not before they gave me three glasses of Tequila. Stumbling through rural roads, wearing a mariachi outfit, a drawn on moustache, and three sheets to the wind, I was arrested by a trooper for being an illegal alien. En route to the Trooper's Barracks I lost consciousness, and somewhere along those lines it was realized that a mistake had been made. I didn't get home until this afternoon, and I still have a huge black smudge above my lip, but I'll never forget the friends I made at that shack, and those wise words they shared with me, "Los Lobos kick your ass. Los Lobos kick your face. Los Lobos kick your balls into Outer-Space."
Absolutely brilliant.
posted by Pretty Awesome @ 8:39 PM
1 Comments:
At 11:04 PM,
Anonymous said…
Man, you got me on the La Bamba quote ... I totally wasn't expecting that (seriously). Man, it's like nothing gets by you ... very fancy wit! Oh, and grats on not being the only person to comment on your blog anymore.
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