MexiButts 101 & the Bizarre World of the Mexican Sex Trade

Heard over the loudspeaker at a strip club one Friday night:
Mr. Lopez Rubio, Mr. Lopez Rubio, your wife is making a scene at the front door of the club. She's crying and hysterical, and she knows you're here because she found your car outside. Please go deal with her, she's scaring away the customers. What? What's that? Oh, oh God. Mr. Lopez Rubio, she brought your children with her. She says they're not leaving until you come outside.
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A vagrant came up to me while I was using my computer outside a coffee shop one night. He was clearly trying to rob me, but I couldn't understand exactly what he was saying or threatening. I just kept saying, "Huh?"

He eventually dumbed it down thusly: "I want your computer, yours, this one right here."

But I wouldn't budge, "Huh? Talk slower please." After a couple minutes of this, he gave up and walked away, quite frustrated. I guess there's one benefit to being behind in my Spanish classes.
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American women have nothing, nothing on MexiWomen. Some scientist down here must be tinkering with human genetics, because everywhere you look there are women with impossibly narrow waists, stork-like stilts for legs, behemoth breasts and butts, oh, their butts. It's a good thing I'll be going to school in East LA for the next four years of my life.
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Speaking of MexiButts, there's a tradition here that's half party game and half rite of passage. It starts with MexiMen setting their beer bottles on their girlfriends' butts while the girls are standing upright. The girlfriends line up at a starting line and see how far they can walk without the beer bottles falling off their butt-shelves. Whoever gets the farthest is seen as the most desirable mate, and her boyfriend is more likely to ask for her hand in marriage. If your girlfriend performs particularly bad at the game, she's given a second chance at the starting line with another beer. If she does really poorly twice in a row, the man is encouraged to cheat on her.
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Taxicab drivers earn a commission that's equivalent to a full day's pay, just for taking you to a brothel.
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There's a special kind of taxicab in Mazatlan that doesn't exist anywhere else in Mexico. It's a cross between a golf cart and an African safari vehicle. Probably due to their open-air construction, they're called pulmonias, the Spanish word for pneumonia. I like to hold on to them while I'm riding my bike so I don't have to pedal. The drivers are pretty good-natured about this, even though they look at me like I have tits growing out of my eyesockets.