So. i'm entering week numero dos at...MexiMart (that's tells you all you need to know).

rundown: slowly-but-surely failing retail chain, declining in popularity yearly. recently merged with another bankruptcy-bound retailer to form a bigger, equally hopeless "conglomerate". in short: a bunch of undeservingly optimistic, proud motherfuckers, basically. sales goals, long-term projections, elaborate corporate policies and the like: fairy tales. My mother, the bargain queen, won't even shop there.

what is to be said about me working there? not a damn thing. i use my muscles to unload trucks and stock shelves, but this isn't about me, mmkay?

ah yes: the store also has CHOCOLATE zebra cakes, and NOT plain ones. so...yea, they can go ahead and shut operations down. they're destined to fail for this alone. they clearly have no knowledge of how to run a business. no zebra cakes? goddamn self-hating fucks.
bueno.

unemployment y brokeness are two friends i'm trying to ditch. no los me gustan. Ugh. even with all the complaints i could launch into, i shall remain thankful for what i have and have accomplished in this short time in California.

i did get this job on the spot. and, as stingy as they are with the hours, and as craptastic as the pay is, tis SOMETHING. this shall hold me over until my Soulja Boy-inspired abortion-flavored kool-aid hits it big. or until so and so sees the light, we shack up and he moves us out of the country...whichever happens first. in the meantime, this pay most certainly is not the business. i have to make these MexiGoons understand that:

(a) I am a motherfucking grownup,
(b) I am NOT splitting rent with 8 other adults, and, therefore,
(c) canNOT survive off of this funky ass gig alone.

the fact that i am one of three coloreds is extremely comical to me. yo soy una minority. like, forreal. en serio. in my week of work i've seen many gasp-worthy things. let's start from the first day.

first off, i'm being trained by colored number two, who i shall call Otis, porque that's his name. and I don't give a fuck. Otis curses more than i. MUCH more than i do. and i love it. bald, loud, funny negro. from long beach. makes the commute to the valley "because long beach has the best pussy." okay fine.

our very first exchange:

him: "yea, they told me there was a new nigga. where you from, nigga?"
me: "um, moved here from New York."
him: "ooooh! how's the pussy in New York?"
me: *silently clutching pearls* ".................good, i guess."
him: "that's what i heard. mmhm."

so, needless to say, Otis provides many entertaining moments. after my first night, he declared, "Alex, you's a good nigga."

great.

my second day of work, i saw a coworker with a rat tail. in 2009. on the back of his mexican ass head (has "tijuana" tatted on his neck). my new goal in life is to obtain a picture of this so you may pass it on to future generations; it is life-changing.

en el día tercero, i seent the.most.VIOLENT.underbite this side of the rio grande. aye dios. nightmares, much?


and today, i had a conversation with Kandy. I don't think this is her real name....but, this is what's tatted on her neck. so i'll be calling her Kandy, thanks. So, Kandy is a spicy, beef supreme Chalupa Latina...con extra sour cream. she's the kind of mujer that eats guacamole-flavored pork rinds by the fistful. with hot sauce. a MexiCunt, if you will. homegirl is thorough as hell. knows everyone on staff, and is always heard telling someone, "YOU MUS GOT ME FUCKED UP!!!"

lay off the Maury episodes, chica.

she's the first real-live lip-liner, huge bang, and red lipstick-wearing latin chick i've encountered, outside of a movie. she is stuck in a time machine in the mid-1990's on the set of Selena, and she's chasing Selena y los Dinos through the mall with her Celia Cruz fanclub card in her purse.

"¡¡Selena está aquí!!"