Category Archives: They Done Said it

Hispanic Heritage Month…

Due to the surplus of holiday spirit and of course the massive amounts of media coverage (cough cough) that Hispanic Heritage Month receives, I’ve decided to educate you on a major distinction within the Hispanic community, you know, ’tis the season…

Pet Peeve: /pet, pēv/. noun. – A minor annoyance that an individual identifies as particularly annoying to them, to a greater degree than others.

We all have that rather mild annoyance that just isn’t so mild to us. In fact, it makes us cringe every time we hear/see it. It might be bad grammar, loud gum-smacking, someone chewing with his/her mouth open, or someone wearing socks with sandals. The possibilities are endless. You can tell when you’ve struck someone’s pet peeve because you can see it in their face. It contorts uncontrollably into varying degrees of disgust.  I bring this topic up because I recently found myself guilty of committing one of my very own pet peeves (Ain’t that a bitch?). My face almost collapsed into itself once I realized it. I guess it’s because I have grown accustomed to hearing it said so much that I’ve accepted it as normal.  But it isn’t.  And I vow to never commit such a heinous crime ever again. I hope that by clearing it up here others will be deterred as well.

Here’s the Pet Peeve: People referencing to anything Hispanic/Latino as “Spanish” when they don’t actually mean Spaniard.

Whether it’s the dreaded, “Are you Spanish?” or the “I’m craving Spanish food.” and even “I love Spanish music.”  It all makes me cringe. ESPECIALLY when a person of Hispanic/Latino heritage does it. Here’s why it should make you cringe as well. Change the word “Spanish” in all of the above sentences to “English”. Does it make any sense now? It does only if you are asking the person if they are from England, if you are craving a typical dish from England, or if you are stating that you love aaaallll music that is in the English language ranging from fairy tale Disney Musicals to hardcore triple X Gangster Rap. Otherwise….No. No, it does NOT make any sense.

Yes, I love you English people as well. Even though you’re not English. At all…

Here’s your lesson: To avoid this mistake, just follow these simple rules:

  1.  Ask someone if they are Spanish ONLY if you actually want to know if they are Spaniard. You know asking if they are from Spain
  2. You are craving Spanish food ONLY if you are craving a typical dish from Spain (Paella, Gazpacho, Tapas, etc) and not Puerto Rican, Mexican, Cuban, etc.
  3. You love Spanish music ONLY if you like every single genre as long as it is sung in the Spanish language.

Here’s your bonus lesson: There’s no general consensus for the terms Hispanic vs Latino, however, most would agree with the following

  1. Hispanic – Someone/something of Spanish-Speaking origin/ancestry. In my personal opinion, this includes ALL Spanish-Speaking countries and excludes non-Spanish-speaking countries (Spain, Mexico, Puerto Rico, etc but NOT Brazil, Belize, Guyana, etc).
  2. Latino/a – Someone/something with origins in Latin America (or descendent thereof). Whether they speak Spanish or not is irrelevant. (includes Brazil, French Guyana, etc but NOT Spain, Portugal, etc). So, by this general rule, Spaniards are Hispanic but not Latino. Brazilians are Latino but not Hispanic. Confused? Good.

Don’t leave us feeling this way. It tires my eyes and brain out when I think this hard.

Hopefully this clears things up. If not, then oh well. Just don’t be surprised when I hit you with a contorted WTF face next time you say it. If it did clear things up, then I’m glad that we are all on the same page and well-educated. What are your pet peeves? Let’s end the pet peeves one at a time. I DONE SAID IT.

-This Guest Post was written by ERockPerez, you can follow him on twitter @ERockPerez.  I love it when Spanish people…err I mean Hispanic…or maybe I mean Latino people contribute to the blog….

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I am often mistaken for an expert on zombies. BUT, contrary to popular belief, I have actually never encountered a zombie.  Yup, I’ve never had my face chewed off.  It may be hard to believe, but it is the outright truth.  I do, however, watch TV and read CNN occasionally (and not to mention, I know how to use Wikipedia like a muthafuckin’ BOSS), therefore making me an expert on everything known to mankind.  Recently, the media has capitalized on some gruesome acts occurring nationwide.  There’s the Miami Zombie Facial, The New Jersey Intestinal Shuffle, and the Baltimore Cravings, to name a few.  Due to these recent televised shenanigans, I have given the Zombie Apocalypse an extensive five minute thought.  Therefore, I FEEL like an expert.  Alas, I am not here to educate you on The Undead, or to teach you how to avoid them in public, or show you how to identify closet zombies. Nor am I here to discuss the latest trends in zombie fashion.  I’m not even here to Teach You How to Dougie.  I am simply here to share my thoughts.

  1. First thought:  Joking about zombies is fun.  And its fun for the whole family.  Being eaten by them…probably not as fun.  I would suggest that y’all try to avoid that.  Don’t get me wrong, it may be unethical what the media is doing (exploiting traumatic events for amusement, fear-mongering, etc), but I LOVES me some zombie jokes.  I crack at least 10 a day myself.  And they are extremely hilarious.  All of them.  Pure gold.
  2. Second thought: Come up with a contingency plan.  So I did. And I suggest you also come up with a plan of action.  But don’t steal mine.  I know it will be tempting, but don’t.  Here is how the plan came to fruition: So, I says to my girl,“Yo, how’s ‘bout we come up with a plan in case this whole zombie shit goes down”.  And with that very eloquently articulated proposition, we put our giant genius minds to work and came up with a full proof plan.  We decided that we would run, fight, hide, and chew on their zombie arms, too, (see how they like it!) in an all-out war…for ONE DAY.  Yup, that’s right. We aint trying to run and fight for the rest of our lives.  F that! I ain’t Will Smith.  After that heroic one day effort, we will then surrender to the zombies. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.  Chewing on body parts doesn’t sound that bad. Why one day?  Well, because what if the Zombie Apocalypse only lasts one day and we surrender right away?  That would just be embarrassing.   I know, we are geniuses.
  3. Last thought: Maintain your individuality.  Whatever your plan may be, you will inevitably surrender to eternal zombie damnation.  Therefore, I suggest doing something that will set you apart from all other zombies.  Choose a single defining accessory to maintain your individuality.  After all, you will still want to be recognizable once your face decays.  So, not only will I surrender to Zombiehood after one full day of prolonged battle, I will do it in style.  I decided that I will walk around butt-ass-naked (because apparently that’s the precedence the Miami “In YO Face” Zombie has set) wearing only a Luchador Mask.  Why a Lucha Libre Mask?  Besides the fact that it’s freaking awesome, it’ll be scary as hell. Be afraid.  Be very afraid.  I may gnaw on your shoulder OR straight hit you with a Flying Tornillo followed by unmasking you.  Even if you aren’t wearing a mask.  Scared?  You should be.

Look at how bad ass I would look! Shit I’m ready for this whole Zombie thing to go down son!

Those are my mind-provoking thoughts about this whole Living Dead situation.  Yes, I only had three thoughts.  Give me a break, I only thought about it for 5 minutes.  I suggest you give this Zombie Apocalypse an honest 5 minutes yourselves.  It’s a pretty serious matter, after all (not really).  That’s what I did and look how amazing the results were.  Especially the contingency plan.  Also, keep cracking those zombie jokes while you can. Because if you don’t, in a month when all the hype is over, you will have regrets.  Zombie regrets.  I DONE SAID IT.

Seriously, could you imagine doin’ this shit for more than one day? Helllll No. One day, then I’m out. Zombie me bro.

-This Guest Post was written by ERockPerez, you can follow him on twitter @ERockPerez




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Barrio Kart

Wobble-dee, Wobble-dee, Wobble…

While “I’m stacking my groceries, my cart hum like it’s tribal.

I got wheelies half shakin, that shit look like it hobble.

How your body impressive, and then your wheel dead as a fossil?”

Now that I’ve struck your ghetto nerve, let’s talk shopping carts. You may know them as “buggies” if you’re from the south, “shopping trollies” if you’re from the UK, or “shopping carriages/wagons” if you’re…umm, a Girly-Man? Anyway, have you ever grabbed a shopping cart and the poor fella is slightly handicapped? You know…the back wheel is locked into place. The front wheel ONLY turns left. The cart squeaks as it rolls. Actually it doesn’t really roll, it kinda just slides. Occasionally, it hobbles like a peg-legged prostitute. The neglected, emotionally abandoned cart doesn’t really show signs of being disabled until you are too far to return it and grab another. So, what do you do? You hope for the best, that’s what you do. You push on, leaning slightly to the left to keep the cart on a straight path. Partly pissed off that you were too lazy to walk back to exchange it. Partly pissed off that the grocery store doesn’t provide better cart maintenance. You kick the wheel relentlessly when its time to turn. You dodge traffic, nearly clipping slow, immobile, elderly people. Sometimes accidentally, sometimes on purpose. You swerve uncontrollably from side to side as you GLIDE your way down the aisle.  Eventually, the extra steering efforts tire you out and you notice yourself angrily tossing the groceries into the cart. You become annoyed at anything in your path. You give people mean looks for no reason. Even the pimply 16 year old stock-boy narrowly avoids being Falcon Punched by quickly walking away as you approach.

BUT…what happens after that long, drawn out, impossible mission is a miracle…

As you stand slightly crooked at the checkout line (because the cart just wouldn’t go straight enough, even for that LAST 5 feet!), you recount your time together. Miraculously, you start to feel a little sad for the cart. You form a bond. Like frat-boy-hopefuls after drinking urine out of each other’s mouths. You actually end up pretty proud for having accomplished such a ridiculous feat. However, the newly formed bond isn’t forever. You know that soon you’ll have to part ways. So, as you walk to your car, you say your good-byes. You smile and you enjoy the last of your loud, clunky, bumpy ride together. You bob your head along to the beat of the wheels and you think:

Spaz, spaz, spaz, spaz. Stop, now make that motherfucker Clamor Time.”

Go stupid…Go stupid….

-This Guest Post was written by ERockPerez, you can follow him on twitter @ERockPerez

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Sandals of Mass Distraction

Nothing says “I’m gonna have a really shitty gym session” more than wearing sandals to the gym. I don’t know about you guys, but when I see someone do that, I stare in utter shock, thinking “AWW SNAP, this guy is either a really sloppy douche or a really lazy slack-ass.”   Yesterday I had the pleasure of feasting my eyes upon a fellow gym-goer that was rockin’ some lovely bright-whites with leather-strap slippers. Yes, I marveled. Yes, it was an amazing sight.  I gawked in awe and I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t focus on my butt- muscle gaining endeavors.

Getting ready to do some squats!

The obvious socks-with-sandals fashion faux pas isn’t the issue here. I’ll leave that fancy fashion stuff to you straight guys with queer eyes. After all, I’m sure we’ve all seen this look before. You know, at theme parks, at the mall, at the grocery store, and if you’re from Florida…at nightclubs. But, C’Mon Man! The gym?!?  I know, its tempting because of how awesomely comfortable and free your tiny little toes feel. But I’m pretty sure that “hitting the gym hard” doesn’t include toe comfort. I mean, how is a guy supposed to properly get his “sweat on” when the fastest he can run on the treadmill is at a blazing level of 0.5. Every time he does a leg curl, the sandal slips off. Every rep requires foot readjustment. The foot lingerie is definitely useless towards a workout. Most importantly, and the take home message here, is that it in fact ruins everyone else’s gym session. And I think that is the most bothersome of all, sandal-wearing-douchebag, how inconsiderate are you to eat up all of our focus? I mean, all I could do as I pounded those heavy 2 pound weights up and down my ginormous gluteus maximus (wait, what?) was stare with pure admiration at this guy’s foot ensemble.  So, guys and girls, please be considerate when choosing your gym foot-gear. Or else…or else we will stare at you relentlessly and possibly pull a butt muscle. I DONE SAID IT! (Oh yeah, I guess I should also be concerned for his toe safety. Or not.)

-This Guest Post was written by ERockPerez, you can follow him on twitter @ERockPerez

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