I'm so Boricua!
Oh My God it's true...
You Know You're Puerto Rican When....
You have been spanked with a folded leather belt and/or "chancletas" ...leather ones!
You know your mom is sneaking up on you cause you can hear her "chancletas" flapping on the linoleum floor.
Your mom yells at the top of her lungs to call you to dinner and you only live in a one bedroom apartment.
You've ever called linoleum floor a "rug"
You can get to your house blindfolded by the smell of the "chuletas."
You say "Vamoj pa' encima" or "mete mano" instead of "Let's get started."
You got scared whenever someone mentioned "el CUUUCO"!!!
You remember every Christmas those "aguinaldos" that abuela used to sing for you.
You've gone to titi's house and passed through the "bead curtain" in the living room.
You know someone who owns a conga, bongos and/or a cowbell.
You step into a house that has all those little figurines taking up every inch of space on the tv and under the tv.
You have a porcelain cat/dog/rooster or frog on a doilie in your living room.
You have a perpetually semi-drunk uncle.
Someone in your family is named Maria, Charlie, Papo, Ana or Carmen.
You call rug-carpeta , roof-rufo, parking-palkin, stress-estress, library-libreria (instead of biblioteca), boiler-boila, sucker-soca, or to knock-noquiar.
You have told your kid not to walk the floor barefoot or they'll catch a cold.
You need a cup of coffee after every meal, expresso boricua style "con leche".
Your sister has hair on her legs and as much moustache as your father.
One of your aunt's weighs over 300 pounds.
You have one or more cousins in and out of jail.
Your uncle has more gold in his mouth and/or neck than you've ever seen.
You have sat in a two-passenger car with over 5 people in it.
You put a big Puerto Rican flag on your car... an a PR bumper sticker.
You have a picture of "Cristo" or a crucifix in your house.
You actually think some names begin with "Ave Maria purísima, Papo."
You walk around saying "chacho" or "chacha" or "ay,bendito".
You have said, "no, hombe" instead of "no, hombre" to both sexes.
You do that funny pointing thing with your nose and if the person doesn't understand you, you use the lips for emphasis.
You can speak with your face: twitch like a rabbit to ask "what do you want? or nod your head upwards to mean "wassup?"
You have driven a "cheby" (Chevy) or a "forito" (Ford)!
You call all sneakers "loj tennis" and the Converse are "loj champion".
All cereal is called "con-flei"
All brands of diapers are called "pampel".
You have ever ground plátanos and/or fingers for pasteles during Christmas time.
Your car has fifteen speakers in it and you fix it every weekend.
You remember when Heineken replaced Shaeffer and Schlitz.
Your dinner consists of a "mixta"...rice and beans and some kind of meat.
Your uncle has a wife and a "corteja" or "chilla".
You've put a penny on your forehead to stop a nose bleed.
Your mother has put a balled up piece of thread on your baby cousin's forehead to stop her hiccups.
You have at least thirty cousins.
You know how to drive "estandard" or "estick" shift.
You can tell the difference between Cafe Rico and anything else.
A coqui's sound has driven you crazy.
Your grandmother thinks Vick's vapor-rub is the miracle cure for everything.
You're proud to be Puerto Rican - and you pass these jokes on to all your Puerto Rican friends!
Get Your Own "You Know You're" Meme Here
More cool things for your blog at
Blogthings
Well some of it is true. I know the difference between Cafe Rico. I honestly do, which is rather sick and sad. I drink my coffee boricua style, although they forgot that us Puerto Ricans like to dunk bread in our coffee. It's a wonderful breakfast. I shake in my boots when I hear the mention of el cuco, but that's my tio's fault. He always liked to make me cry. I'll get him back, someday, one day...soon. Hehe I've never been hit with chancletas, but I have smacked a few people with them. And I can hear my Mami from a mile because of her chancletas. She can never, ever sneak up on me. The only things not true are the drunk uncles and people in jail. It's great to be a Puerto Rican. We are so gosh darned sexay people!
I feel pretty good today. I finished Professor Jackaway's killer take home final. It took two nightsof staying up to 2 a.m. but it's all good. I'm done. Finito with work for that class. I got the big paper I did on Propoganda back from her. I think I almost fainted. I got an A+. Meanwhile I'm here telling everyone that I'm going to fail, and that was the most horrible paper that I have ever written. It was quite a challenge, but I really did kick ass on that paper. No swaY? cHYEAH! She even says I'm a talented writer, a fine writer. I feel special. I still have one more final left. Wish me luck because it's 3 essays on poverty that I have to write in class. Ick. I don't wantto study. My mind is on vacation. I think it went on vacation almsot two weeks ago. I'm in bliss. I am happy!
Marc called me early this mornin like around 8:30. I swear I never smile when I'm woken up, but the past two days of him calling me this early havemade me really happy. I'm such a silly, silly girl. My baby sounded tired though. That's what you get for driving all night until you reached Florida. I hope he gets back to Cali in one piece. I'm contemplating visiting him in January if I can manage to squeeze two or three days off. I feel silly but happy for having him in my life. I feel rather blessed. Oh God, I'm getting all sentimental and mushy. I think I'm gonna blush myself to death.
I have the urge to start writing stories again. I know I say this every few months, but I really want to get into that writing habit again. I just never have the time. Beign a writer is also very lonely. You eneduup being cooped up in a room all day, scrawling out hundred of lines onto paper, or click clacking it onto the computer, while life thrives and walks past your window. It's a sad profession. You have to be the observer of life for the msot part, instead of partaking of it. I enjoy both that is why I find it hard to stick to.
I also wantto have a deep, thought provoking conversation abot Kafka, Dante, Descartes, writing, or politics. I want a debate. I want to live. I am living. Life is good!
You Know You're Puerto Rican When....
You have been spanked with a folded leather belt and/or "chancletas" ...leather ones!
You know your mom is sneaking up on you cause you can hear her "chancletas" flapping on the linoleum floor.
Your mom yells at the top of her lungs to call you to dinner and you only live in a one bedroom apartment.
You've ever called linoleum floor a "rug"
You can get to your house blindfolded by the smell of the "chuletas."
You say "Vamoj pa' encima" or "mete mano" instead of "Let's get started."
You got scared whenever someone mentioned "el CUUUCO"!!!
You remember every Christmas those "aguinaldos" that abuela used to sing for you.
You've gone to titi's house and passed through the "bead curtain" in the living room.
You know someone who owns a conga, bongos and/or a cowbell.
You step into a house that has all those little figurines taking up every inch of space on the tv and under the tv.
You have a porcelain cat/dog/rooster or frog on a doilie in your living room.
You have a perpetually semi-drunk uncle.
Someone in your family is named Maria, Charlie, Papo, Ana or Carmen.
You call rug-carpeta , roof-rufo, parking-palkin, stress-estress, library-libreria (instead of biblioteca), boiler-boila, sucker-soca, or to knock-noquiar.
You have told your kid not to walk the floor barefoot or they'll catch a cold.
You need a cup of coffee after every meal, expresso boricua style "con leche".
Your sister has hair on her legs and as much moustache as your father.
One of your aunt's weighs over 300 pounds.
You have one or more cousins in and out of jail.
Your uncle has more gold in his mouth and/or neck than you've ever seen.
You have sat in a two-passenger car with over 5 people in it.
You put a big Puerto Rican flag on your car... an a PR bumper sticker.
You have a picture of "Cristo" or a crucifix in your house.
You actually think some names begin with "Ave Maria purísima, Papo."
You walk around saying "chacho" or "chacha" or "ay,bendito".
You have said, "no, hombe" instead of "no, hombre" to both sexes.
You do that funny pointing thing with your nose and if the person doesn't understand you, you use the lips for emphasis.
You can speak with your face: twitch like a rabbit to ask "what do you want? or nod your head upwards to mean "wassup?"
You have driven a "cheby" (Chevy) or a "forito" (Ford)!
You call all sneakers "loj tennis" and the Converse are "loj champion".
All cereal is called "con-flei"
All brands of diapers are called "pampel".
You have ever ground plátanos and/or fingers for pasteles during Christmas time.
Your car has fifteen speakers in it and you fix it every weekend.
You remember when Heineken replaced Shaeffer and Schlitz.
Your dinner consists of a "mixta"...rice and beans and some kind of meat.
Your uncle has a wife and a "corteja" or "chilla".
You've put a penny on your forehead to stop a nose bleed.
Your mother has put a balled up piece of thread on your baby cousin's forehead to stop her hiccups.
You have at least thirty cousins.
You know how to drive "estandard" or "estick" shift.
You can tell the difference between Cafe Rico and anything else.
A coqui's sound has driven you crazy.
Your grandmother thinks Vick's vapor-rub is the miracle cure for everything.
You're proud to be Puerto Rican - and you pass these jokes on to all your Puerto Rican friends!
Get Your Own "You Know You're" Meme Here
More cool things for your blog at
Blogthings
Well some of it is true. I know the difference between Cafe Rico. I honestly do, which is rather sick and sad. I drink my coffee boricua style, although they forgot that us Puerto Ricans like to dunk bread in our coffee. It's a wonderful breakfast. I shake in my boots when I hear the mention of el cuco, but that's my tio's fault. He always liked to make me cry. I'll get him back, someday, one day...soon. Hehe I've never been hit with chancletas, but I have smacked a few people with them. And I can hear my Mami from a mile because of her chancletas. She can never, ever sneak up on me. The only things not true are the drunk uncles and people in jail. It's great to be a Puerto Rican. We are so gosh darned sexay people!
I feel pretty good today. I finished Professor Jackaway's killer take home final. It took two nightsof staying up to 2 a.m. but it's all good. I'm done. Finito with work for that class. I got the big paper I did on Propoganda back from her. I think I almost fainted. I got an A+. Meanwhile I'm here telling everyone that I'm going to fail, and that was the most horrible paper that I have ever written. It was quite a challenge, but I really did kick ass on that paper. No swaY? cHYEAH! She even says I'm a talented writer, a fine writer. I feel special. I still have one more final left. Wish me luck because it's 3 essays on poverty that I have to write in class. Ick. I don't wantto study. My mind is on vacation. I think it went on vacation almsot two weeks ago. I'm in bliss. I am happy!
Marc called me early this mornin like around 8:30. I swear I never smile when I'm woken up, but the past two days of him calling me this early havemade me really happy. I'm such a silly, silly girl. My baby sounded tired though. That's what you get for driving all night until you reached Florida. I hope he gets back to Cali in one piece. I'm contemplating visiting him in January if I can manage to squeeze two or three days off. I feel silly but happy for having him in my life. I feel rather blessed. Oh God, I'm getting all sentimental and mushy. I think I'm gonna blush myself to death.
I have the urge to start writing stories again. I know I say this every few months, but I really want to get into that writing habit again. I just never have the time. Beign a writer is also very lonely. You eneduup being cooped up in a room all day, scrawling out hundred of lines onto paper, or click clacking it onto the computer, while life thrives and walks past your window. It's a sad profession. You have to be the observer of life for the msot part, instead of partaking of it. I enjoy both that is why I find it hard to stick to.
I also wantto have a deep, thought provoking conversation abot Kafka, Dante, Descartes, writing, or politics. I want a debate. I want to live. I am living. Life is good!