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2002-11-05 - 11:55 a.m. Hola Muchachos! Just arrived back from vacation in Mexico where I met Mrs. Roboto whose hilarious accounts and exploits on diaryland inspired me to chronicle my own. A few basic facts first: I am 30 years old, statistically single though living in sin in Brooklyn with my boyfriend of the past four years, Brett, an independent filmmaker (hmmm, is that one word or two), ice cream connoisseur, Road rage enthusiast, and a card carrying member of the Richard Roundtree fan club. Okay, I made the last bit up. Brett and I went to Oaxaca, Mexico for the Day of the Dead festival, an pagan holiday from pre-hispanic times that evolved into Halloween, and the Christian holidays: All Saints Day and All Souls Day. It was a blast! The holiday involves not only the usual costumes and children begging for candy (or ketchup packets - I'll explain later) but also decorating the graves of your loved ones with flowers, food, candy, liquor (all the things the person loved in life) singing, drinking lots of mezcal and celebrating their dead- a lot better than the American traditions (like dressing up the dead person in a silk lined box, slapping on some pancake makeup and saying shit like - He/She looks so peaceful. Yeah, real comforting...but I digress) Some of the other festivities we witnessed was an unusual "Battle of the Bands"/Dance off. In San Jose Mogote, we saw the local brass band and townspeople performing a traditional dance which involves a lot of jumping up and down - competing with the band and dancers of a nearby town. If you can imagine being in the middle of a mosh pit trying to avoid getting hit in the head by a slide trombone while a tuba plays the same three notes over and over in the your ear, you'd get an idea of what it was like. Just when I thought I would never get that damn song out of my head, they started playing Deep in the Heart of Texas. No, I have no idea why. According to our guide, the winners are the townspeople who jump the highest, play the loudest, and last the longest. Guards, armed with billy clubs, kept the two groups separated and prevented fights. Although the nearest guard seemed far more interested in dancing with Amy (Mrs. Roboto) and myself so he only halfheartedly used his club to beat back an enthused youth made up like "The Crow", an apparently popular costume there. (Although my favorite costume was Bimbo, a little white bear resembling our pillsbury dough boy but a hell of lot funnier...I mean, come on, he's named BIMBO! Anyway, afterwards we saw a crazy play about death. Knowing very little spanish, we had no idea what they were saying but a large drunken man who looked a little like Fred Ward in drag with huge gazungas and a Jennifer Lopez ass needs no translation. Hilarity ensued. After a few mezcals and some margaritas later, Amy helped me to steal my own Monologues de los Vaginas poster, which I've hung on my refrigerator(see her site for a picture). Well, that's all I can coherently write for now (Mezcal - you understand) so you'll have to wait for the ketchup packet story till next time... Adios, EthelAlcohol � 
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