Home invasion and final days in Maz

The bed bugs and other little insect roommates I had were once easy to deal with. I used to make myself feel better about my Mazatlan living situation by saying, "Well, they're not biting me or getting into my food, so they're not bothering me any." But what, pray tell, am I to do now that this is no longer the case?
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The transexual prostitutes here parade on the boardwalk at night. They like to drum up business by pulling up their skirts and bending over. I'm always riding pretty fast on my bike, so I can never tell exactly what they're packing south of the border. But one day, maybe, if I'm ever really lonely...
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I heard a clicking noise in my apartment and turned around to see a hermit crab inching across my apartment floor. When I picked him up and stared at him all I could think of was the line from The Little Mermaid when Sebastian is teaching Ariel how to kiss, and, in a French accent of course, he says, "You've got to puckah yah lips, like dis."
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I had a home invasion happen to me, but not the robbery kind, more a home invasion of termites. I heard what sounded like buzzing coming from my bathroom wall. When I tapped on the wall I could feel that it was hollow (meaning they had been there for a long, long time) and the more I tapped the louder and angrier this nest became.

So I kicked the wall in after checking with my landlady, sort of. I mean I really did check with her, but she said a whole bunch of shit in Spanish that I didn't really understand. I think it was Spanish stuff about proper and logical ways to deal with termite problems such as mine. But all I heard was, "You're only in this country for two more weeks, smash this this fucking wall in and spray these fuckers 'til kingdom come." So that's what I did. I prepared my can of ultra-poisonous insecticide, and the second my can of tomato sauce went through that wall ('cause that's what I used, dammit) those little fuckers started scurrying and flopping and flying everywhere. For twenty minutes I was the judge, jury and executioner, and I nuked the whole lot of 'em. All sorts of pent up aggression and rage were taken out on this colony of termites.

But, the Mexi Insecticide Spray was so fucking toxic that I swear I started tasting sounds and hearing colors. So on top of the termite issues, I had to spend the next half hour lying in the sand outside and taking deep breaths of sea air, trying to clear the blood out of my lungs.
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I was hanging out with a group of acquaintances, and I asked about the whereabouts of another acquaintaince. Response? From one of her girlfriends: "Oh, she couldn't come out tonight, she's having menstrual cramps." [making a rubbing motion around the belly area for emphasis] Wow, thanks for the information.
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Today at the Mazatlan airport (while picking up Ada "Momma" Hand, the keenest bitch in the kennel) I saw a gringo get off the plane and walk across the International Arrival Terminal towards a beautiful Mexican girl waiting for him. He was fidgeting with his wedding ring, rather anxiously. Lucky for him, he successfully removed the ring by the time the girl (sans ring) ran up to him, jumped in his arms and planted firm, Latin, open-mouthed kisses right on his boca.
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I can tell tourism has taken a sharp downturn here in the last few months because I'm getting scammed much more than before. Now I actually have to count my change and look at the cashier sometimes (it happened twice today...TODAY!) and say, "Really? What do you take me for?"

To which their replies are something like, "Oh geez, I pressed the wrong button on the cash register, whoops. Here's your change."
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I love it when a girl doesn't let you get anywhere on the first date. It almost makes you want to be a better man.
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...Almost.

My triumphant return to Mexico, US observations & more

I'm finally back in Mexico after a month in California. I'm here for one more month and then it's back to the States for good to prepare for med school and blah blah blah.

Here are some observations about our own culture that I noticed while I was back in the States for a month.

• Americans are fat
• America is rich as fuck. Disturbingly rich.
• Bluetooth headsets are the most ridiculous thing in the whole world. Since they slowly creeped their way into American society, I never really noticed how absurd they were until I went a couple months without seeing them. The take-home message? You're not that important. Take off your fucking bluetooth when walking through the Phoenix Sky Harbor Int'l Airport. No one cares that you can hold a briefcase and coffee while still talking on the phone. Your wife hates your guts and your children sniff markers while you're away on business.
• We have way too many laws in America.

Now let's get back to Mexico with observations and odd Mexi-Land happenings!

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There is a point at which it gets so hot that bananas actually burst open their peels and ooze out gunk all over the place. It would have been really messy, but luckily my ant roommates took care of most of the problem. Thanks, guys, you're the best. I hope you shared some with the fleas or bedbugs or whatever the fuck those things are that took up residence in my sheets while I was back in California.
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Yesterday I happened to be in the right place at the right time when a semi-truck went by. It was covered in political posters and pictures of this old guy running for office. This truck was covered in sound equipment. What song was blaring on the loudspeakers as it passed by? Oh, just a little ditty called "Low" by T-Pain.
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When MexiWomen pose for pictures, they pose like they're on the cover of Hot-Rod Magazine. They lean seductively over the nearest fence, wrap themselves like ivy around phone poles, and flash facial expressions that you know they've practiced in front of a mirror.

They'll do this even if its a picture with a bunch of friends at a club. One of the best sights to catch is a group of MexiGirls pausing for photo time at a club. Everything's normal until the count of "two," at which point each girl pivots into her own modesty-defying sexpot pose. By the count of "three" they all look feline enough to bear claws.

There is an alternate reality where life is made up of beer commercials. The place? Mexico, baby, Mexico.
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The word for jellyfish is not in my shitty Spanish-English dictionary, but I really wish it were.

I must have looked great to the Mexicans on the beach: see gringo; see gringo attempt to surf; see gringo flail his arms and legs wildly while screaming; see gringo peeling long multicolored strings off his arms, legs and torso. I felt like I was being electrocuted and set on fire at once because of these stupid fucking Portugues man-of-war jellyfish. In the end, I came out of the water looking like I wrapped myself in barbed wire and then jumped in a clothes-drier.

Still woosey and increasingly nauseous, I marched over to the lifeguard tower. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind for not putting up the white flag signifying jellyfish danger. What came out would be literally translated like this: "There are those things out there, in the water. You know, those things that look like octopus with long ropes that bite you, uh, they're clear, they look like ghosts, yeah, like water-ghosts! Look what those water ghosts did to me! Why didn't you put up the water-ghost flag?!" I don't think it was effective...probably because the lifeguard had no clue what I was talking about.