Well, finally the dreaded weekend came and passed, but not without leaving a few stories behind to tell.

Thursday, after work, I rushed home to get out of my work pants and into a pair of jeans, to coax my sister into my car (she does need coaxing... if we were to move at her pace, the world would be a sloth bear waiting for the sun to spin around it). The plan was to make it to Escorial by 6PM and hold places for Eze, Popu, David, Alfonso, Iohann, Crappy, Cheo, Pepe ... did I forget anyone? sorry if I did **blush** Got there in time to make second place (btw: the movie was Star Wars: Episode 3) and waited for Eze to arrive so he could hold place in my stead (I was quite hungry, hadn't had dinner). Well, during the whole wait 'til 9PM, we were able to eat dinner, argue with the ushers, argue with some fellow line-holders, have a nice conversation with Pepe and later with Alfonso, and eventually get irritated at the heat, the line, the world in general... oh, and see an ankle biter of less than 3' of height wearing a Darth Vader helmet. Yep ... fun fun fun at the movies, specially when it's second day of showing a movie that brings too many people to the theatres.

I didn't worry much about the time we got home. Friday was my sister's high school graduation. Not worrying was a mistake. I woke up much more tired than I went to bed. But "show must go on", or so said Fred Mercury. I expected the graduation to be a long pain in the ass. It was actually short and sweet, to the point. No use in prolonging a painful experience. I was able to take a few charming snapshots. No crying was involved in this particular ceremony. Weird. It's almost as if these kids held no nostalgia for the school they were graduating from. I'd say they were glad to be out of there. Very bland, indeed. Usually these events are characterized by hordes of weeping, hugging, reminiscing teenagers. Not this time around. Either the school is that fucked up (I don't doubt it) or the generation in question is not as emotional as ours was (I don't doubt it either, but the school is fucked up).

After the graduation (which was attended to by my mother, my sister's girlfriend, and myself) the proverbial "celebration lunch" had to be held (yes, I guess it's a cultural thing: after a graduation, you HAVE to eat). And of course, the place to head to is usually Graduates Haven: Dennys. This time was no exception (I remember: my graduation finished at midnight, 10 years ago ... we headed to Dennys, nonetheless). I called Eze to invite him (Dennys is pretty close to his workplace) so he popped up! ^_^ so cute of him to join.

The lunch was uneventful, however everyone insisted the service was terrible. Could I be so absent-minded that I didn't notice this? Either that or reading the Waiter Rant Blog has given me a different outlook on what a waiter has to go through. I think I said a few cue things to help them understand it's not easy working at an under-staffed restaurant filled with a crowd of mainly students and families flocking in from a graduation ceremony 10 blocks away. We left the minimum tip. Sorry. :-/

We headed home immediately. The idea for me was to head right out to Xtreme Auto Body (a workshop where I ordered the dashboard piece missing in my car) and then to work. But I fell asleep. Profoundly asleep. 'Til almost 5. It felt like I had passed out. Then, I woke up feeling sick (the usual lately: allergies, sinus congestion, etc). I had promised to take Vivi (my sis's gf) to her house. I did (I did, right?) and then I picked Eze up to go for a brief dinner. The craving? Serrano Ham @ El Hipopótamo. What we did? Churrasco steak & tostones @ Dos Pinos. I still owe myself that Serrano ham with a nice, cold beer. Went home early enough to pump myself full of meds and go to sleep right away.

Saturday started out earlier than I would have liked: 9AM ... to be in time for an appointment at 12PM. My mom is a bit of an overkill at times. But this once around I think it worked well. Time enough to run to the post office and to the drug store to get a few bottles of water and soda for the road (I keep forgetting my mom sees any trip longer than 15 minutes as an expedition) . We got there in time. And it didn't take more than 3 hours: my sister, my mother and me - hairstyles and plus. My sister got a beautiful hairdo, like a crisscross of hair forming a net falling to the back of her hair, very pretty and dainty. Plus, seeing her with straight hair is a treat that won't be repeated for a loooong time. My mom got the layered haircut she always wanted, but had never gotten due to ... I'd say incompetent, untalented hair salon workers --- no, those are NOT stylists. Then she got her hair straightened out and styled with a blower. I think she might trade stylists. ;-) I got a high updo, quite 50's or 60's style. And a trim. And got an appointment for the fortweekend. I really need a change.

Well, after 2'45", we were ready, so we rushed home to get ready. It was 3PM and we had to be at the hotel at 6PM for the family photo shoot (oh, how I hate that!). So rush rush, prim prim, clack clack, we were out the door by 5:45 PM. We got there quite on time: the photographer was setting up when we arrived. The whole photographer and wait ordeal was stupid, boring, prolonged...

People apparently get airs of superiority when they dress up. Proms are an excuse for young girls to learn how to do this (and how to teeter-totter in high heels, set themselves in uncontrollably vapid banter, and lose their virginity - if they haven't yet). The whole group filed in and profiles were read for each grad student: Name, who was walking in with them (mom, dad ... there was a poor soul who was marching in with her boyfriend's father, makes me wonder), any characteristic which might have stood out enough for the popular pricks to notice and jot down into that little, silk-clad, beaded notebook of theirs (poor nerds, they were probably "friendly and sociable", even if they were never invited to the populars' table), and where & what they were going to study (as if it were written in stone! there was this one girl I truly admire, who braved having her profile declare she was admitted to General Studies ... yes, she's headed to try it all and arrive to an informed decision on what to do with her life ... loser **insert rolleye smiley here**). Most kids had these very important-sounding future careers and studies plans jotted down on their profile. I guess they haven't realized that sometimes life doesn't work out like a planner book. Let's see how many of these teen sluts become pregnant by age 22.

The rest of it was a joke: mediocre food, and flocks of people rushing the buffet tables, because apparently they didn't eat all day to make space for the "delicious hotel food" they were gonna eat

... excuse me? The chicken was fucking overcooked, dry and bland.

Then the music, cranked up to ear-piercing volume -- and bad music at it, nothing I could actually enjoy, plus I might be wrong, but nowadays they play merengue, and almost no one goes to the dance floor like they used to. Kids these days are disconnected from their parents' tropical eagerness. But then play some reggaetón and all hell breaks loose. I tried finding my sister in that human knot that immediately took shape in the front. Mission: Impossible.

I decided to kill time by walking back and forth throughout the hotel with my brother (long talks ensued) and my mother (beer-drinking from a foam container in the trunk of my car ensued). We enjoyed a bit of classical music being played at the wedding reception being held in the space accross the hall (in juxtaposition to the horrendous cookie-cutter beats blasting from my sister's prom). We saw a girl sitting on a wheelchair, with an ice bag held to her head, later learned that a light bulb had fallen on her head in the bathroom (that must be a real bummer: having a lightbulb crash on your head in your prom night ... nearest thing to Carrie you can get in this island). We had the chance to have a silent argument over table spaces with this bitch sitting accross us (supposedly, a reporter; to me? a cheap $4/hour whore, dressed up in Kress Formalwear) Well, my sister makes me proud: she bailed at 11PM. Short and sweet. Thanks, Chichi! Kiwi and I will always thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Got home, ditched the poppy skirt for a pair of jeans, the flat, black pumps for some nice, comfy slippers ... called Eze, jumped in his car, headed to oblivion... well. actually to his parents' in Toa Baja, but good enough for me. Yesterday was as relaxed as could have been. Thanx, Eze! ^_^ Now...


back to reality. THANKFULLY!