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I Love White People

On Saturday, I took my parents to bum around Pacific Street in Santa Cruz. It was Plan B, but included a truly amazing round of Seagull Juggling (now *that's* fun!) and some shoe shopping. Who doesn't love shoe shopping?

So, we're walking along and pass a group of girls in their late teens or early 20s who are gathered in front of a store whose window is displaying bathing suits, towels, large tote bags in muted colors stamped with cartoony hibiscus flowers - in short, a beach store. And, fittingly enough, it's called "La Playa," pronounced "PLEYE ah," or "The Beach." Except that these girls were laughing uproariously at a store called La "PLAY ah," as in "player." They were all excited about buying all their pimp gear at this place. They had lined up and were taking pictures of each other standing in front of the sign while everyone around them looked on and cringed.

Then last night, the Pirate called a local restaurant to make reservations for us and my parents to celebrate Peaches birthday (that's right - my baby is 14 today). The Pirate was putting the reservations in my father's name to make things easier.
"Can I get a name?" the restaurant guy asks.
"Zenaido."
"Um....how about a *first* name?"
"That is the first name."
"Uh...okay, can I get a last name?"
"Quintana."
"Can I call ya Joe?"

Comments

pirateguillermo
Jan. 18th, 2006 05:48 am (UTC)
junglemonkee says, "I want those girls to go back home and show the pictures to all their friends. I want them to be hideously embarrassed as their friends mock them for being morons. I want their boyfriends to dump them, realizing what a bullet they dodged by finding out what idiots these girls were before they did something dumb like marry them."