No Mas Tejano

Dudes,
My brain is blank. This is the fourth time I've started a post in the last 36 hours, but I keep giving up because I have nothing dumb yet insightful to say.

I'm currently living in a very strange place. The people are nice but not exactly what I'm used to. There's a very casual vibe going on in this house which I like a lot, but it also makes it feel like I'm living in a halfway house for fellow burnouts. I don't start my job until Wednesday, so I've been taking a lot of naps. Naps are nothing new or out of the ordinary for me, but even the old hibernating bear eventually wakes up hungry and grumpy. We have that in common. Oh, and I thought I had a poor diet! These people make me feel like a health nut. I hear soda cans popping and bags of potato chips crackling all day. It's anarchy. 

Speaking of health food, I think I had forgotten what real tacos taste like. This town is flooded with Mexican restaurants that actually make their own tortillas! What a concept!! Mexican people do a lot of things well, but by far their most important contribution to the world is their food. Anyone who knows me knows that about 50% of my daily conversation revolves around Mexican food, and about 90% of my thoughts revolve around Mexican food. In Raleigh there is only one place I know of that makes its own tortillas. The rest wrap their beans and whatnots in these thin, semi-edible sheets of paper. And I willingly go and eat at these places. The system is broken.


Texans are pussies. Yeah I said it. Here's why: It's 70 degrees outside and they have the heat on inside this house. 70 degrees is God's temperature. This is the kind of weather where you swing all the windows open and have conversations with each other like, "Dude, this weather is delicious. 70 degrees in January makes me want to have sex with you." But we're not having that conversation because Texans are...the P word.

I have an idea. Somebody buys me a falcon and I say thank you. I'd like a falcon and I'd like a falconer's glove more. I don't think people argue with falconers. Think about it, someone cuts in front of you in line at Taco Cabana and you get mad. Then you notice he has a falcon. What do you do? Nothing. Anyone with a falcon surely has more important business to conduct than you cashing your $60 check for babysitting your neighbor's mistakes. I'm not even sure I need the bird. I should try just the glove first and see what type of responses I get.

I've been here for four days and I'm ready to move on. I need to get on the money-making train pronto.