<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775</id><updated>2011-08-18T08:50:32.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogs from an Unblogger</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-3668164357697815055</id><published>2010-01-02T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T00:23:06.289-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I AM FUCKING PISSED OFF (PARDON THE FRENCH)</title><content type='html'>It was around 11:20 PM and my phone rang, I could recognized my ex's phone number but she doesn't know my number. So, I thought it was about my daughter Michelle who lives with her; I was&amp;nbsp;right&amp;nbsp;it was my daughter telling me that her mother and her were staying at my other daughter's [Lils] apartment because my ex's husband went off on my daughter and my ex.&lt;br /&gt;I don't care much about my ex, but when it comes to my daughters I think I could kill someone or beat somebody up really good, if they mess up with one of them.&lt;br /&gt;Well, now I want to do something to that guy but my daughter asked me no to do so because she is worry about the outcome for her mom. Whatever the situation was this asshole had no reason to scream at my daughter and I want to go I beat him up.&lt;br /&gt;Do you guys think I should go right now and take care of&amp;nbsp;business?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-3668164357697815055?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/3668164357697815055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=3668164357697815055' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/3668164357697815055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/3668164357697815055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-am-fucking-pissed-off-pardon-french.html' title='I AM FUCKING PISSED OFF (PARDON THE FRENCH)'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-4432910714594971437</id><published>2009-12-06T02:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T03:55:50.978-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twitter Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'courier new';"&gt;I had been excited for a few days about this day, today was set to meet a twitter friend; somebody that we both clicked as good friends from day one. It was a wonderful day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;I drove to San Francisco, California [about one and a half hours from my home] to meet @locadelamaceta and her husband @bilbeny, two wonderful people that it seemed like I met them long time ago. Since the moment we greeted each other, there was that feeling that it gets you and makes you know about good people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;It was overwhelming at first but in a few minutes I could notice the honesty and authenticity of both of them and everything was easier. We started to look for a restaurant and honestly I was like lost in a city that I know so well; that's why I said that it was a little bit overwhelming at first. Finally, we found a Chinese restaurant in China Town! We sat down and started to talk and talk, we even kind of ignored the waiter until we had to order.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;For the next hour or so; we talk about our kids, family, likings, hobbies, well we tried to cover everything but there was not too much time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;Miranda [@locadelamaceta or "crazy of the pot" #badenglish como yo le digo] gave me her book that she wrote and she dedicated to Juan Tre-hoe [she remembers] and Mario her husband [@bilbeny] took a picture of us then Miranda took a picture of Mario and I. Walked back to Union Square and after one more hug came the undesired moment... time to say GOODBYE to my new virtual friends that are not virtual anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;Who was going to say that a person that I met in twitter just a few months ago and a person I met over the phone a few days ago were going to become such great friends in such a short time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-4432910714594971437?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/4432910714594971437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=4432910714594971437' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/4432910714594971437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/4432910714594971437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2009/12/twitter-friends.html' title='Twitter Friends'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-8183487181308781685</id><published>2009-08-04T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T17:32:33.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Star</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/SnkcVS--KwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/CK9vYl6zSoc/s1600-h/MECA+19.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366351583187446530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/SnkcVS--KwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/CK9vYl6zSoc/s320/MECA+19.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hadn't visited my blog in months, but finally a muse appeared to me, not really a muse but a star -MY STAR-; and it has brought light to my heart, and hope to my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I don't know if it's an old crush or I don't really know what it is. I found after several years my star, that lost star that used be so bright to me; while a lot of people thought that star was with no bright to me was the most beautiful star in the sky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can remember smiles, words, face movements, situations; I can remember about anything from that star that I don't remember about anybody else. When youngsters used to talk bad stuff about my star, I was there to confront, I was there to prove them wrong, I was there for my star; and sometimes even if they were right, my eyes could see nothing else but the light coming from that star. My star had nothing wrong, it was perfect and beautiful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now, after several years and seeing the bright of that star again and a lot of feelings have came abroad and it has me happy, enthusiastic, and rejuvenated; the star is not the same star, neither on body nor soul, it seems the same but the star has been enduring hard times [just as I have] and it appears to have a different glow, a different bright. Now, there are other things that you admire of my star [it will be mine forever because I have never seen it go shine less, because I have never forgotten it]. But, there is always a but with me; while in the past was difficult almost impossible to look at the star right at the heart of it, call it afraid, call it coward, call it whatever; now there are new obstacles to defeat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of those obstacles are: the distance where the star is located, the afraid of seeing to the heart of the star, several years of &lt;em&gt;sinsabores &lt;/em&gt;both from the star and from myself. I have enjoyed a few weeks of seeing the star so close to me, I have talked to the star [my star, remember?], I have told them secrets that I haven't told to nobody, we have remembered things and situations from the past. There seems to be a connection now that didn't exist in the past, not because of the star's fault or my fault, just something that didn't happen in the past.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The situation back then maybe wasn't right, but the fight to reach for my star this time has just begun, even that will be no easy but I won't rest until either reach my star or there are not possible ways to reach to it. And even then I won't forget it, it's bright will stay forever before my eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-8183487181308781685?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/8183487181308781685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=8183487181308781685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/8183487181308781685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/8183487181308781685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-star.html' title='My Star'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/SnkcVS--KwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/CK9vYl6zSoc/s72-c/MECA+19.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-7272643784769898412</id><published>2009-07-12T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T16:21:12.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DON'T</title><content type='html'>Don't care so much for me,&lt;br /&gt;I may get used to it.&lt;br /&gt;Don't come so near to me,&lt;br /&gt;I may not be able to detach from it.&lt;br /&gt;Don't put so much faith in me,&lt;br /&gt;I may not be able to handle it.&lt;br /&gt;Don't touch me the way u do,&lt;br /&gt;I may not be able to get over it.&lt;br /&gt;Don't become a part of my life,&lt;br /&gt;Coz without u, I won't be able to live it.&lt;br /&gt;Don't make me fall for u,&lt;br /&gt;I may not be able to fall out of it.&lt;br /&gt;Don't come into my life,&lt;br /&gt;If u have to leave one day.&lt;br /&gt;Don't give me the hope,&lt;br /&gt;That it's forever u r gonna stay.&lt;br /&gt;Coz love is an emotion&lt;br /&gt;I won't be able to hide,&lt;br /&gt;When love isn't reciprocated with love,&lt;br /&gt;It hurts deep down inside.&lt;br /&gt;Don't start something&lt;br /&gt;That I won't be able to end.&lt;br /&gt;Don't make me believe&lt;br /&gt;That u can be more than a friend.&lt;br /&gt;Coz at the end of it all,&lt;br /&gt;I don't wanna hear u say,&lt;br /&gt;That," I'm sorry,"&lt;br /&gt;" but I never felt the same way!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-7272643784769898412?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/7272643784769898412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=7272643784769898412' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/7272643784769898412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/7272643784769898412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2009/07/dont.html' title='DON&apos;T'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-5692723603290968538</id><published>2009-05-31T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T10:59:01.921-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOMELESS</title><content type='html'>Yesterday it was my day with homeless people. I have nothing against homeless people and I actually used to have some "friends" or just homeless people that I knew back in the day when I used to live in San Francisco, CA. Besides, I always told my daughters that when I grew up I was going to be a street bomb [homeless].&lt;br /&gt;Well, yesterday this white guy asked me for A COUPLE OF BUCKS because it was hot and wanted to buy some water, food, and beer; I was like I am hot too and I want to buy all that; so I said I have no money and he's got mad calling me names and stuff. I went inside the store and when I came out he was still there and he starts giving me crap once again, I answered some back and I almost explode and beat the shit out of him but some other guy that received some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blasphemies&lt;/span&gt; from this homeless person came too and the incident ended there.&lt;br /&gt;Then I go to a fruit stand that is own by a friend of mine and buy some fruit and also engaged on some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;conversation&lt;/span&gt; with him when another homeless person comes [this time a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mexican&lt;/span&gt; guy on his early 20's] and asked me for money to buy beer! And he asked as well as the other homeless for A COUPLE OF DOLLARS! When I told them I had no money he asked me if I wanted some money myself and he called me "a cheap mother fucker" and pulled out a stack of dollar bills. He told us he makes around USDA 200.00 every day just asking for money.&lt;br /&gt;I think we are on the wrong &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;profession&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-5692723603290968538?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/5692723603290968538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=5692723603290968538' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/5692723603290968538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/5692723603290968538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2009/05/homeless.html' title='HOMELESS'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-9215798759414545746</id><published>2009-05-18T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T22:54:40.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ALMOST TRAVEL TO L.A.</title><content type='html'>Almost traveled to Los Angeles on Saturday night, it was going to be a quick and unplanned trip [&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;are not&lt;/span&gt; those the best times?]. I received a phone call from someone that has been and will be a very special person to me for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This lady [I will mention her name later]  and I met through the Internet when I just separated from my ex-wife and before we met in person we were chatting on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSN&lt;/span&gt; and talking over the phone for months [around 4 months]. Well, we became to know each other really well and there were very few secrets or things that we didn't know about each other, I could say she made me forget a lot of the problems that a separation towards a divorce brings to a person. She has been the only person to send me flowers, not once but twice! [Ladies: if you want to be remember for your man forever, send him flowers]. She was like a dust pan that picked up all the pieces that I was broken into and put them back together with special care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had some fantasies about how to meet, where to meet, and what to do when we'd finally meet; as well as some fantasies that we wanted to accomplish after meeting, and YES, we fulfilled every single one of them, okay maybe almost all of them. The weekend we met has been something that I will never ever forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we met, I traveled to LA one weekend and two weekends later she did the travel to the Central Valley. So, we saw each other once or twice a month for the 4 months that we were together. After that we saw each other a couple more times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people will be wondering if we had such a good relationship why we broke out. Well, one day my ex-wife [tired of seeing me happy] asked me to get back together for the sake of the kids [I know I know]; to make it short 5 months later we were separated again and this time was for good. I never asked Esmeralda [I promised to say her name] to get back together but I guess she is still on a special place of my heart. Months later, she called me to inform me that she was dating someone else, I was devastated and angry about my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;stupidness&lt;/span&gt; but it happened and I could do nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said before, we have seen a couple times each other, once for about one hour in the parking lot of Oakland Coliseum; the second time we met at Fresno, CA for two rocky and exciting days. We cheated to our respective boyfriend and girlfriend [not that I care since I am not with that girlfriend that I had at the time] but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Esmi&lt;/span&gt; [nickname for Esmeralda] was engaged. Besides, every time we met my head was a mess, I was thinking all the time about her and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;could not&lt;/span&gt; call her because she was with someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past Saturday received a phone call [even I don’t have her number saved to my phone, I know it by heart], I knew immediately was her. She told me her husband was in New York until Tuesday and asked me if I wanted to go to Los Angeles and meet once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;could not&lt;/span&gt; do it this time, gave her a couple excuses; talked to her for another 10 minutes catching up on things and hung up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that I was regretting my decision and my head was a mess once again. I am very confused because I don’t know if it’s pure attraction or there is some of that stupid feeling called LOVE involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, you know why I almost went to LA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-9215798759414545746?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/9215798759414545746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=9215798759414545746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/9215798759414545746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/9215798759414545746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2009/05/almost-travel-to-la.html' title='ALMOST TRAVEL TO L.A.'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-4216938957985085299</id><published>2009-05-16T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T18:42:39.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I dislike that a lot [Eso me cae en los...]</title><content type='html'>Yesterday Friday I went to the bar I frequently go on Fridays and/or Tuesdays. I was with a friend that I hadn't seen in long time untill a few weeks ago we started to kick it together again, his name is Elias and we used to rent a bachelor pad just after my separation from my ex-wife. But, that's probably material for anothe blog.&lt;br /&gt;Well, we were drinking and I had met two ladies before he got there, then I went to another bar to meet someone, and cameback to the first bar to meet Elias and drink. So, these two ladies were good looking and there were lots of guys trying to score [you know what I mean], we stayed away from them untill one of them I think her name was Alexa smiled to me and open and invitation for me to go there; I told my friend lets go over there and sit with them. We started BSing, joking, and just having fun; this girl Alexa seemed fun and friendly. The other girl her name is Pam was friendly and nice at the begining but this second time when we went and seat with them she seemed on a bitchy mood, she was treating me like shit when I was very polite and respectul. She asked: "how do I manage to buy drinks?"; I was stunned and I thought she wanted to be funny but she kept  being rude and she was even more rude towards me when she was talking a lot of shit about Mexico, mexicans, and evrything that had to do with Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;She was saying that Mexico is dirty, the people is corrupted, dirty, tricky, well we are to her eyes a complete disgrace to humanity. The funny and sad part is that she is a daughter of mexican inmigrants, so she is mexican-american! She works for the state [she is a freaking BUROCRAT] without any degree, except her freacking [just to no to say the "F" word] HIGH SCHOOL diploma.&lt;br /&gt;When I told her what I do for a living, she changed completely, but it was too late. I would not go out, kick it, or have anything else to do with someone that talks shit about &lt;em&gt;mi raza, mi gente, y mi pais. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other girl [Alexa] was cool, but the other one [Pam] was kind of a B I T C H. She is a COCONUT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-4216938957985085299?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/4216938957985085299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=4216938957985085299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/4216938957985085299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/4216938957985085299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-dislike-that-lot-eso-me-cae-en-los.html' title='I dislike that a lot [Eso me cae en los...]'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-6617849129020097621</id><published>2009-03-07T10:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T10:44:12.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The nite that I run away.</title><content type='html'>I haven't written on mi blog for the longest time, but some of you know that I am very lazy to write or maybe I don't really like writing like other people do. Today I am going to write about something that happened to me last night.&lt;br /&gt;I got off work and like every Friday I am tired of working long hours during the whole week and had no intentions of going home and prepare super, so I decided to go to the bar where I like to eat &lt;em&gt;quesadillas &lt;/em&gt;and this time [I thought] will be plain cheese &lt;em&gt;quesadilla con chile &lt;/em&gt;[Good Friday]&lt;em&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;I ordered the food and a diet soda [I don't like to eat sugar] and the bartenders that I know very well by the way started to make fun of me because I didn't order alcohol. They were WTF Juanito &lt;em&gt;el martes tomaste y ahora no?&lt;/em&gt; Well, on the TVs there was a basketball game [Boston vs Cleveland] and I wanted to watch it but the TVs there suck big time, so I hurried up and ate my &lt;em&gt;quesadilla &lt;/em&gt;drank my diet soda and went to another bar where my friend Frankie G is the DJ. The TVs there are awesome, you know LCD plasma TVs, just nice; this time I ordered a cheap beer and one of the best shots of tequila they have there with no lime and no salt [by the way the bartender this time was the owner of the Restaurant-Bar and he told me that I know how to drink tequila], the other bartender is Rosy which went out with me once or twice but she acts like she is the last Pepsi on the dessert, believe me she is cute but not that cute. Anyways that's a topic for another blog I guess.&lt;br /&gt;But, across the bar there was a group of ladies and on that group there is one lady that it calls my attention and the mariachi played a song for them [&lt;em&gt;Besame mucho&lt;/em&gt;] and when the mariachi came my way and asked if I wanted a song I replied: &lt;em&gt;"Te sabes Perfumes de Gardenia"?; &lt;/em&gt;so they played it and the lady came to say HI and told me: "you have good taste, I love that song"; I told her I like the finer things on life and enjoyed my times. She promised to meet me at the other bar.&lt;br /&gt;So, I went back to the other bar and I ordered a Margarita and a lady next to me introduced herself to me, her name was Antonia; asked a bunch of questions and I could tell that she was interested on me but I wanted to talk to the other lady which came saw me talking to this other lady and she started to flirt with other guys. [I hate jealously, and humans don't think right when jealous]. Anyways, this lady Antonia kept flirting and even asked me to go dancing and she told me "we could go to my house at the end of the night, you might get lucky tonite". She was not bad lucking and I am pretty sure that if I would have kept drinking she would have transformed on Alejandra Guzman [I love her] after a few drinks.&lt;br /&gt;There was something that I didn't like or I don't know why but I paid my bill and she didn't notice it when I took off. Maybe that I didn't have a chance with the other lady, maybe that I like somebody else and I am not convinced 100%; but I hadn't run away from a nice woman in long time. After all, I am not that easy! Laughing hysterically.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-6617849129020097621?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/6617849129020097621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=6617849129020097621' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/6617849129020097621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/6617849129020097621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2009/03/nite-that-i-run-away.html' title='The nite that I run away.'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-2262070321591921419</id><published>2008-12-30T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T23:23:07.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>El Dia Curioso de mi Vida.</title><content type='html'>Hoy 30 de Diciembre es un dia que nunca olvidare mientras yo viva. Hace 21 años en la Iglesia La Asuncion de Maria en la ciudad de Chihuahua le daba el "SI ACEPTO" a una mujer que yo pense seria el amor de mi vida, la compañera del resto de mis dias en las buenas o en las malas; alli estabamos ante Dios, ante su familia, ante mi familia, y ante amigos.&lt;br /&gt;Bueno ustedes han de preguntarse que tiene eso de curioso; pues lo curioso es que hara algunos 6 años a lo mejor unos meses mas; que esa mujer y yo decidimos cortar el lazo que sus padres nos pusieron en la Iglesia, quitarnos los anillos que unos padrinos [ya no recuerdo quienes fueron] nos pusieron en nuestros dedos y todo ese protocolo que se hace cuando uno se casa. Dijimos NO MAS, juntamos a nuestras hijas y les dimos la noticia; todavia recuerdo sus caritas llenas de lagrimas de tan terrible noticia, terrible para ellas por supuesto.&lt;br /&gt;Bueno ustedes todavia han de preguntarse que chingaos tiene eso de curioso; pues lo curioso es que la fecha final del divorcio se sentencio el 30 de Diciembre del 2003; si, hace exactamente 5 años y exactamente 16 años despues de aquel dia en la Iglesia La Asuncion de Maria.&lt;br /&gt;Por eso y aunque yo quisiera, este dia no se me va a olvidar nunca; y por eso este dia es un dia curioso o de mucha coincidencia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-2262070321591921419?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/2262070321591921419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=2262070321591921419' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/2262070321591921419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/2262070321591921419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2008/12/el-dia-curioso-de-mi-vida.html' title='El Dia Curioso de mi Vida.'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8431952018595386775.post-7346394080418493881</id><published>2008-12-29T17:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T17:29:26.581-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SINGLE DAD (PAPA SOLTERO)</title><content type='html'>I'm a single Dad and have been for the last five years. I have two beautiful teenage girls.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm sure I'm not the perfect father. I try to do the best I can, but I've come to terms with that too. I mean, I didn't play Barbies as often as they'd liked and sometimes after I've been working all day it's hard for them to understand that Daddy just wants to sit down and rest. But we used to like to play sports when I could and talk about just about anything under the sun. They are girls though and they've caught me off guard quite a few times in the last three years.&lt;br /&gt;We only did their hair when they were little, hmmm,  and the rest of the time we watched football together. Not all too sure if I'm doing okay with what it's like to be a girl with them not getting much input from her mother. But we try and if it's sporadic, well, I just hope it's not completely skewed when they get older.&lt;br /&gt;They are much more outgoing than I have ever been so I'm pretty sure their friends and other acquaintances have helped fill in the gaps when it comes to the make-up and hair things. But I can't deny the more private aspects of a young girl's life, and it seems that I might be a little intimidated as well as very concerned about them knowing the truth, but have always showed them what's the real worl. They need to be able to understand from fact all the dangers either at the school yard as well in the streets when it comes to most of that, and well, let's just say when I was their age I had to learn the hard way; on my own.&lt;br /&gt;I have literally been single for the last five years so they have never had much of a female role model to go by. Somehow, I feel that's a failing on my own part. But that's more my issue than anything else. I just never trusted much to allow another person in and the fact that I do have two girls makes it quite a bit more difficult in meeting someone. Talk about the ultimate baggage, especially for a guy.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there are times I actually sit here and think about what it is that's missing for them. Dance class, fingernail polish, watching mommy put make-up on in the mirror, and maybe even a less critical shoulder to lean on once in a while. I'm not overly strict, but whenever it came to minor wounds I usually tried to tell them to be tough, rub some dirt on it and walk it out. Not particularly a womanly reaction, but they are a lot tougher for it. Believe me, these girls had both their cuts and wounds many different times and they had less of a hard time with it than I did!&lt;br /&gt;Have I stayed single? You bet. Not that I'm proud of it or anything. Believe me there are times where I feel so alone. But it's just more of a concept of self and having done it for so long that you just can't imagine putting your own problems off on anyone else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8431952018595386775-7346394080418493881?l=blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/feeds/7346394080418493881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8431952018595386775&amp;postID=7346394080418493881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/7346394080418493881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8431952018595386775/posts/default/7346394080418493881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogsfromanunbloger.blogspot.com/2008/12/single-dad-papa-soltero.html' title='SINGLE DAD (PAPA SOLTERO)'/><author><name>Juan El Travieso</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00914039470435432427</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g_V9JD3N_28/Sxt9wxfPo5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/P5sauzrvmGc/S220/Juan+51.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
