Le Machismo Tiger

“When faced with grilling for a crowd, some people settle for letting their dogs get cold in a pile on the plate. But you my friend had the foresight to build a bratwurst hot tub.” Mmm-mmm. Those tasty brats swimming around in an aluminum rectangle pan filled with steamy wurst waters, onions and bell peppers. Doing laps and splashing eat other, having a good time until it’s jawing time. That was a commercial I saw on TV today, while watching a BBQ instruction in HD hosted by a fluffy haired hippy.

Some old guy recently remarked my hair is short to medium length. It was noted in a memo marked Confidential. The bosses showed it to me, the parts about my service anyway. Couldn’t deal with all that. A spy eating in the restaurant taking notes on everything and getting it all wrong. This grandpa said I am five nine, one hundred sixty pounds with short to medium length hair. He must have seen the illusion.

The only way I get to five nine one sixty short to medium is if the hippy of fluffy hair got a chance to BBQ me, and the product in my hair made it burn down slowly as I shrank down and took on the taste of flame. Don’t forget me in a pile of other human hotdogs on the plastic plate of buffet. When they eat me I hope that I had the chance to simmer down in the bratwurst hottub my wise grillmaster made me. Just simmer down now.

Its about two and a half weeks until I pack up the shit and take the whole show on the road to Amsterdam. My sister phoned earlier to remind me to bring along my adventure helmet. As if I can even take the damn thing off. My adventure helmet is my goddamn hair helmet and its never been this hairy in my entire life, and I got that guy tons of coffee. As a master restaurant spy who actually gets paid to do that shit I am especially disappointed that he didn’t notice my hair is medium. Trending toward long!

I remember complimenting his grandchildren on their appetites. To be fair, in his top secret report, the spy made mention of my personality being the highlight of his day. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the hair! Its spectacular, to risk writing like Regis Philbin talks. The best its ever been. I pay about twelve, thirteen dollars every few weeks for my Charles Worthington London hair treatments. I call that a bargain… the best its ever been!

For people who don’t know that song AND read this blog (that narrows it down to only my sister), those are wicked hot song lyrics from this totally rockin’ song in the States. YOU best get an adventure helmet! Mine sits snug on my skull, has a fan for lateral heat, and a motor. It revs up my brain slow and low until it marinates in its own juices, best served with fruit kabobs. When I step out into the city of A’dam the white hot spotlight and basted pineapple, I’ll have all my technological magic intact, plus a hairstyle my sister eerily predicted. That’s the business.

I saw a wonderful film that other day at my aunt and grandma’s. It is called Los Jornaleros, meaning day laborers in Spanish. On imdb.com I read that it was shot in a month for one hundred thousand dollars. I don’t know if that’s true, because I read it in the comments section. But it has that look and feel. The acting feels right; mainly three brothers from Mexico form up as three and make a go at it in California. No papers, they live with their uncle and work as day laborers.

As the years go by each brother has his own difficulties. Drugs for one, a girlfriend and newborn son for the other, and being gay for the third. The storylines of each eventually reach a point where each brother is independent of the other, but in a way that pushes them towards negative extremes. Except for the gay brother, who gets a green card and an apartment with his boyfriend, as well as a job in an art gallery.

Some people commented on imdb.com that the actors in Los Jornaleros don’t look Mexican, but I thought they captured the beauty of the men I worked with at the Union League Club in Chicago. That was my favorite work so far in my life. The real silver and the pots and pans and my radio and the forty foot long dish machine and the old Mexican men.