Posts tagged Mexican
Posts tagged Mexican
I’m just imagining my abue and abuelito laughing and shaking their heads at these gringo pendjos painting their faces like sugar skulls.
Listen, whites: I’ve been keeping a secret. If you sport Dia makeup, you are summoning strange spirits you are not associated with. You should be scared. DO NOT DO IT.
Te quiero, mi Esperanza. I know you’re looking at these gring@s and muttering your trademark phrase “Que pendejos.” Ay, cuanto te quiero, mis abuelitos.
Wow, entire populations of indigenous peoples were exterminated with the arrival of the Spanish and motherfuckers STILL think one of the greatest crimes against humanity is not being able to paint their faces like sugar skulls.
Friendly reminder that Dia de Los Muertos is pretty much a funeral, and the dead being represented in the holiday are actual dead people who had families and friends and hopes and dreams. So just as you wouldn’t throw on black clothes and join a group of mourners because they look so fashionable in black, you shouldn’t paint your face and put marigolds in your hair and make altars because it looks cool to you. Thank.
CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT THIS, THO???
LOOK AT THIS SHIT. IT’S ALL READY TO GO AND BASICALLY SEX IN YOUR MOUTH. LIKE. MOLE EVEN WHEN I’M LAZY!!????? THANKS DOÑA MARIA.
Dipping Mexican snacks in my coffee for breakfast. The only thing that could make this better is Despierta America.
Mama went to Mexico recently. She hooked me up. Ay, te quiero mucho, ma. <3
Yesterday, my mom left for a two-week trip to Mexico to visit my family. It’s left me rather reflective as it’s the first time she’s gone without me since my abuelita died suddenly when I was 7 — not to mention I haven’t seen the majority of my Mexican family for two years due to the fact that I’ve been wandering for so long. Now I sit in an empty, new apartment in Brooklyn with some great folk and an inescapable sense of longing. I miss the sweltering heat rising from the floor of the mercado permeated with the scents of fresh fruit and meats. I crave the feeling of sweet, ripe mango on my tongue as the juices dampen my face. I want to step out in sandaled feet and see the endless, clear blue of the sky lovingly intermingled with verdant mountains as wild creatures share their tunes with the world. Most of all, I yearn for that implicit sense of belonging. There’s something about being in “the motherland” that nourishes the soul in ways I could never communicate. Someday I will be with you again, my beloved Mexico.