Immigrant Song

The Blair Witch Taco

2012-02-11T23:36:08Z

Sorry if the scar is shocking. I’m used to seeing it by now.

Mr. Tacos has this way of choosing the most unpicturesque places to stare at. His favorites tend to be empty corners, blank walls, extension cords and abutting furniture.

Here he is, at it again:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9eGFSoBVmM

Mr. Tacos Is Doing Better, Thank You

2012-02-11T15:26:36Z

Thanks so much for the kind words and thoughts regarding Mr. Tacos. He wasn’t looking so well yesterday so I took him back to the vet, but she said he’s just fine and his wound is clean and healing nicely. I’m especially grateful for the advice a few of you gave me about the ergonomic pillow for around his head instead of the frigging plastic cone; I’m going to Mr. Guau right now to look for one.

As you can see, the chaval is happier and more comfortable than the past few days. His energy is up to normal and he’s back to his old habits of haciendo monadas, dando coñazo, and making us happy by being adorable.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3KHH_I9Vwo

Mr. Tacos Se Está Lamiendo el Cono

2012-02-09T12:29:34Z

On Tuesday my dear darling cabbit (half-cat, half-rabbit) Mr. Tacos had a massive surgery to remove a big nodule from his back. They don’t know what the hell it is, and we’ve got to wait for the biopsy. Meanwhile, he’s got this huge scar running diagonally across his back, plus a cone around his head to prevent him from biting out the stitches. Because you know how animals are totally fucking stupid.

He was in so much pain the first night; even though we were giving him pain-killers every 6 hours, he still moaned and growled whenever we got near him and it was horrible to watch him suffer.

The next day, though, he was a lot better. But I had to stay in the apartment all day to babysit him and make sure he didn’t do anything to his stitches. They’d put him in a net body-stocking the first day to keep his bandages in place and also protect the wound if he decided to scratch it. But Mr. Tacos quickly found ways to wriggle his hind legs out of the net, and it got all twisted up on his body and blocked his otra carita (other face), so the net was covering his bottom and when he’d pee, he’d pee on the net, and so he started to stink of pee and the bed stank too, ’cause he sleeps with us.

So yesterday I was hasta los cojones of the stupid, smelly net, his scratching, his compulsive licking of the plastic cone around his head… Plus, the cone affects his balance, so he swaggers around the house like he’s drunk, banging his head into things… I can’t stand watching it. Then he starts squirming, trying to get the net off… so I call the vet. The receptionist answers.

“I need to come in so they can put another net on Mr. Tacos. The one he’s wearing is filthy and he can’t pee or poo with it on and it’s coming off and it’s driving him crazy.”

“Go to the pharmacy and buy another net and put it on him.”

“I don’t know how to put it on him! I need to bring him in there and you guys do it.” Christ. I watched two trained vet’s assistants spend about 10 minutes carefully cutting the net into a garment, then struggle to put it on him – one holding him down, the other pushing his legs and head through. No one ever said, “Watch this carefully, ’cause you’ll need to do it yourself tomorrow.” What the hell?

“One moment. I’ll get Dr. Jaume.”

Dr. Jaume is the surgeon who operated on Mr. Tacos. He’s just like a doctor from the movies: super-serious and dashingly handsome. To me, he looks like a cross between Paul Newman and Matthew McConaughey. Cesar says John Stewart, but I don’t see it. Cesar also says Dr. Jaume is “evil”. Maybe because I told him that I think Dr. Jaume looks like Paul Newman and Matthew McConaughey.

I’m sorry, I have to write this part in Spanish, ’cause it’s the only way that makes sense.

“Hola, soy Dr. Jaume.”

“Hola Doctor. Operaste en mi gato Mr. Tacos ayer. Tengo que traerle para cambiarle la malla porque se está volviendo loco. Se está revolcándose por el suelo, y se está lamiendo el cono.”

I knew that last part probably sounded bad, but fuck it, it was the truth! This was an emergency, and I took extra special care to say the correct word, and not the word that just slips out of anyone’s mouth automatically with the phrase “se está lamiendo el…”!

“You said that?” Cesar said later, incredulous. “You called the doctor to tell him that Mr. Tacos se estaba lamiendo el cono???”

“Well, yeah! So? He’s a doctor. He’s probably used to hearing that kind of stuff.”

“Um…. no.”

“Well, he’s a doctor, anyway. Nothing should shock him.”

“He is evil. -So what did he tell you when you told him that Mr. Tacos se estaba lamiendo el cono?”

“He said I should take off the malla, and that I should use the word campana.”

Recap of the 5th Anniversary of Anti-Karaoke Madrid

2012-02-02T13:07:45Z

I’m now on the high-speed train headed back to Barna… Last night we celebrated the 5th anniversary of Anti-Karaoke Madrid, and I’m still recovering from the euphoria and exhaustion. Last night I was so busy I didn’t even have a moment to take a sip of beer!

Truthfully, I experience about one tenth of what the audience does in each show, especially in highly organized special events like anniversaries. There are so many behind-the-scenes details to pull off correctly that I have no time to actually see the show, except for when I slip down into the audience to hand out Cheetos and candy; or when I can peep through the curtain; or — and these can be some of the most exciting and intriguing moments — hearing the roar of the audience from the dressing room, without being able to see what is actually going on.

Between the cake (“brazo de gitano” – a Spanish cream-filled sponge roll literally called “gypsy’s arm”), spraying the crowd with champagne, the slices of Pan Bimbo (the Spanish equivalent of Wonder Bread) flying through the air, filling people’s mouths with whipped cream, plus some wonderful prepared acts (wait for the videos of “Thunderstruck” by Manolito Metal & Rigodon or Lady Madrid’s “Somebody to Love”), it was an intense night of unforgettable moments and, yes, love. Thank you, El Sol club and everybody who’s ever come to A.K Madrid in these past 5 years, for converting that one Wednesday of every month into one of the happiest days of my life, without fail. Specifically, I’d like to thank some of the people who’ve been there since the beginning and who have helped to make this show what it is: Nacho and Marcela of El Sol Club, Sergio Jungle, Rafa Gil, Jorge Alvariño, Eugenio Mira, Manolito Metal and Rigodón, Santi Pardo, Uvejo, Eddie Ramone, el Ginecólogo de Nicole Kidman, the folks who schlep all the way from Toledo to enjoy 3 hours of Madrid crazy (Gonzalo, Carolina, Alejandra, Luis and Ricardo), plus more recent friends like el Inquebrantable McGinty, Teresa Aguirre, Metalguay, Crazy Brunette, Nikki, Peter Parker, the Barrero Bros., Bombazo Platino, Jaime “Coco” Falero Puche and Nuno; and our current photographers Naroa and Torke.

Of course I am not mentioning nearly all the people who have contributed to making this show great and I apologize for that, but my brain is half-dead and this post is already reading like one of those long Oscar speeches. But, whether you’ve ever performed onstage or have just enjoyed the show from the crowd: you know who you are. So thank you!

Stay tuned to the Anti-Karaoke page on Facebook for the chronicle of the entire evening, with photos and videos of each performance. And I hope to see you next month, on March 7th, for Carnaval, Anti-Karaoke style! Nothing goes better with A.K. than freaky costumes and lots of drinking, so spread the word!

It Also Happens in Madrid

2012-02-02T12:06:59Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXAJxDsRT20

In my comedy show, I talk about the señoras that walk in pairs, connected at the elbow. This an exótic experience for someone from the U.S., where people neither tend to walk the streets and the existence of the elderly is a well-kept secret.

When I first arrived in Barcelona, I thought that maybe this curiosity might be peculiar to the Ciutat Comtal. But as you can see, the phenomenon of the Señoras Connected at the Elbow is a universal one.

También pasa en Madrid

2012-02-02T12:07:55Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXAJxDsRT20

En mi show de comedia, hablo de las señoras que andan conectadas por el codo. Toda una experiencia exótica para una persona de EE.UU., en donde la gente no suele andar la por la calle, ni suele haber ancian@s a la vista.

Cuando llegué a Barcelona, pensaba que esta curiosidad igual era algo propio de la Ciutat Comtal. Pero como podéis ver, el fenómeno de las señoras conectadas por el codo es algo universal.

Mañana, el 5º Aniversario de A.K. Madrid

2012-01-31T16:13:33Z

El miércoles 1 de Febrero, celebraremos el 5º aniversario de Anti-Karaoke Madrid en la Sala El Sol. Será un show lleno de sorpresas y actuaciones especiales. Espero veros allí en esa conmemoración de cinco años de A.K. en Madtown! Las puertas abrirán a las 22h.

Estás apuntado a la página Facebook de Anti-Karaoke? Allí salen todas las últimas novedades sobre el show, incluyendo las crónicas de cada semana.

Anti-Karaoke Madrid 5º Aniversario
Miércoles 1 de Febrero, 22h.-1h.
Sala El Sol
c/ Jardines, 3
Madrid

Mañana, PLANETA CATALUNYA

2012-01-25T17:34:14Z

Mañana será el último jueves del mes, y sabemos lo que significa eso: otra oportunidad de ver mi show de comedia, PLANETA CATALUNYA!

Recuerda que si has venido anteriormente y has reservado en mi web, Atrapalo o Facebook, puedes apuntarte al REPEAT OFFENDER PROGRAM y entrar gratis si traes uno o más vírgenes al show.

Nos vemos mañana en el Planeta!

PLANETA CATALUNYA
Jueves 26 de Enero, 23h.
Café Teatre Llantiol
c/ Riereta 7, Barcelona
Entrada: 12€ sin reserva, 10€ con reserva, 6€ con reserva en Facebook

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Another Day, Another Dumbass

2012-01-25T14:19:13Z

The doorbell just rang. I look through the peep-hole…

Same thing as always: a nervous-looking guy. “Who is it?” I say through the door in a tired voice, because this has happened enough times that I know exactly who it is.

“I’m here for a massage?” he half-whispers uncertainly.

“You’ve made a mistake. This is a residence.”

Without missing a beat, the guy asks: “Which apartment is it then?”

Unbelievable.

“Why the hell are you asking me which apartment it is???” I shout. Not because I’m mad, ’cause I’m really not; ’cause it’s fun! “Fuck if I know; that’s your job to know which damn apartment you’re going to, isn’t it?” The poor guy’s eyes open wide and he turns and runs away.

Look: it’s bad enough to mess up the address of the place you’re going to get a hand job. But on top of it, to ask the person you’re bothering? It’s obvious why the guy needs massage parlors: what normal woman would tolerate such ineptitude?

Otro día, otro inútil despistado

2012-01-28T11:21:36Z

Acaba de sonar el timbre de mi casa. Miro por la mirilla…

Lo de siempre: un tío con cara nerviosa.

“Quíen es?” digo por la puerta con voz cansada, porque sé exactamente quién es.

“Vengo para un masaje?” dice con un medio-susurro.

“Usted se ha equivocado. Ésta es una casa.”

“Qué piso es?” pregunta el tío.

Esto es el colmo.

“Qué cojones me preguntas por qué piso es???” grito por la puerta. No porque esté enojada, porque realmente no la estoy; porque es divertido! “Cómo lo voy a saber yo? Eso es tu trabajo!” Pone cara de sorpresa y se va corriendo.

Hostia: es suficientemente inútil equivocarse de piso. Pero encima, preguntarle a la persona a quien estás molestando? Queda claro por qué el tío depende de las masajistas: qué mujer normal aguantaría tanta ineptitud?