zerogstudios

I’m so happy that I finally have the TV of my dreams but I’m also nervous about the impending retinal damage.

My new apartment has a very small bedroom and large living room which sounds perfect but the problem is I have so much bedroom furniture that I’ve had to switch the layout. Making the large living room my bedroom and the small bedroom into my living room.

So how small is small? Well I think the exact room dimensions are 7 x 10 which isn’t that bad until you factor in the placement of the window and the heater. Once those are taken into consideration you encounter a ton of layout issues, leaving you with only one possible layout. A 46” Sony Bravia LCD flat panel mounted on the wall only 5 feet from your face. That’s my living room.

My eyes are going to explode and yellow yolk will run out. Just like a Cadbury Creme Egg placed in the microwave .

PS Why didn’t you get a smaller TV? Go big or go home, hater!

Update

1) Ran into Chika at Banana Republic. She helped me pick out all my new clothes. She is super sweet and has an amazing sense of fashion

2) Saw Rob play with his band Bellow. They were fucking amazing, as usual. They played this new song titled “Awful” and it was fucking great. I really think their sound is maturing.

I got invited to another Sony BMG Latin record release party and these events are always a mixed bag for me. Free booze, good music and tons of eye candy always make me happy. But at the same time I’m reminded of how “non-Hispanic” I am.

Not getting into too much detail the same thing happens every party. I hit the bar, get a drink and start up conversation with the closest woman. Normal right? Wrong! Here’s where it falls apart. Most, if not all the women at these parties are Hispanic and as soon as I open my mouth they get confused.

1. I don’t look like your typical Hispanic. Yes of course they’re those that realize I am Ecuadorian. But those are few and far between.
2. Not to sound fucked up but I don’t sound Hispanic. I don’t have an accent; I have a vocabulary larger than most of them and my speech patterns are different.
3. I don’t dress like most Salsa, Bachata, Merengue and Reggaeton fans. I have my own style that ranges from skate boarder dude to Banana Republic preppie.

For a while I’ve joked that Hispanic girls hate me but I’ve realized that it isn’t that they hate me. It has more to do with social dynamics on a small scale.

Society loves to romanticize the idea that opposites attract but for the most part that’s bullshit. We tend to seek out people of similar tastes, interests, appearance and mannerisms.

To these Hispanic girls I am a total question mark. A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. I don’t look, speak or dress like anyone they know. And within seconds all attraction they might have had goes out the window. This isn’t to say I can’t hold a conversation but it’s clear it has no future other than friendship.

So where am I going with all this? Nowhere! It’s just a rant and a realization that they don’t hate me they just don’t understand “me.” The only reason it irks me is cause I am Hispanic.