Consider this a public service announcement.  Some of you may recall I live in Medellin presently, and have spent the past three years in Colombia, mostly on the Caribbean coast.  And I have been known to mention a few of the products and services offered here freely, from time to time.  It's my right, as my Ecuadorian father says.  He has a masters in engineering, so I consider him a genius although when I ask why he never taught me Spanish, he answers "I don't know." 
Yesterday, I spent a few hours at my newfound bestie, my dentist Luis',  chair.  If you break out in hives and down the entire bottle of valium like I do just thinking the word dentist, fear no more.  I swear, this man's hands have been touched by God.  Every dentist I've ever went to has said "I am known for pain-free dentistry."  Yea, and I am a "Creature unlike any other".  Those other dentists are such fucking liars, it must be a course requirement in dental school.  So, when Dr. Luis Escobar (how's that for being born with the right name?) didn't say much to make me skeptical, I sucked it up and...didn't feel but the slightest pinch.  It was if the heavens opened up, the sun shown brighter, and I was in drilling nirvana.  When the numbness wore off, still no pain (ok, had codeine to...help?) and I asked if I could come back tomorrow.  Which was yesterday.  Yes, I had the same experience.  So, I am now on my way to that Jim Carey mouth I've always wanted.  Next week, half my teeth will be all white fillings!  Can't wait to show them off by laughing like a hyena at things that aren't even funny.  Want the best part now?  To date, the bill has added up to just over $100.00 and included consultation, impressions, and two molar fillings replaced with new white ones.  Hand to God!  If you only knew how cheap blow is here, you would get on the next Avianca out of the states.  Bring me some Taco Bell, and I'll hook you up.  Seriously, medical tourism is just one of the many reasons me and tons of others are leaving in droves.  I read this article on the ticker of AOL and confirms what I already knew.   Told you I was way ahead of my time!
I am coming back to the U.S. soon, but not until I have the mouth of a porn star, to match the natural blond, trash talking language, lifted eyes and collagen filled lips that are in my near future.  If you have questions about medical tourism, feel free to ask.  I am a walking billboard, and not here selling policies, I swear.  It's just one of the few things I am knowledgeable with, from horrific personal experience and being at the mercy of hospitals and physicians here.  I guess alcohol, drugs, and age may take a toll on a person after all.  Ok, my PSA is done.  The more you know...         

Dr. Acula and her sidekick, the boy wonder

I didn't sleep much last night.  The self proclaimed "Machine" I am married to begged for forgiveness and rewarded me with a full night of long, hard, fast pounding sex.  I am sitting on a foam donut, to make sure everyone knows I got the beating I deserved.  So all that exercise, which was due to just a little coke, and what happened earlier in the day caused me to stay awake more than usual, also due to a bit more blow.  I had an unsettling feeling, after I was accused of putting a hole in the marble floor.  Dr. Acula's zero husband, the boy wonder, apparently has it out for me, and although I am the smallest, skinniest, Croc's wearing  person in this house, threw accusations that I was the culprit.  Makes sense, right? 
I call him the boy wonder because he still sucks his thumb, has no job, gossips like a 13 year old girl, and he looks albino (sorry, albinos) just like my favorite white bread.  He called me the c-word to my husband.  Such a man!  He brags to my husband about being with 'practice wife #4', Dr. Acula, that he has at least three others lined up waiting for him, yet he is fat, ugly, mean, won't bang his wife, and makes no money.  Stay back, women of the world, this man's taken!  What nerve calling me out, I said to my husband.  I am at the very least cute, slender, can play golf, cook, and made more money than he has in ten years working as a hairdresser!  Is there an equivocal 'c' word for men I can use?  I don't think a single word has been created yet to put all the undesirable traits this one person has into just one word.  But if you do, or can think of a good one, let me know.  I'm dying to come up with something harsher than boy wonder.  Because this dick kept me from my beauty sleep last night, and he is sucking up all the good air from the rest of us.  He is blatantly delusional, an all-in-one human wasteland, and needs an entire team of Belleview doctors working on him.  If I wind up dead, he is the guilty party, your honor. 
Dr. Acula is a love-hating backstabber who, with boy wonder, have done their best to split me from my stud (?).  But they failed.  I win.  Thank you God, for my vagina.  Bye for now!

Suck it, cavities!

Damn, my pie hole hurts.  Tomorrow it is going to hurt sooo much, I am not above faking pain so the dentist injects me with the legal limit of Novocain.  Today was just a cleaning, but since drug addicts tend to put off little things like health and child support, my soon to be x didn't deem it necessary to visit the dentist for, well, since the day we met.  Luis, my plaque removing buddy, had to break out the heavy artillery-jackhammer and backhoe-to chisel years of nastiness off my teeth.  No one held my hand which is a huge improvement for me; I have been known to scream bloody murder at the top of my asthma filled lungs to the dismay of my previous dentists, since I have had the following medieval procedures since I was a little carpet-biter:  Fillings on 16 of my molars, a root canal on one of my top front teeth after a piece of sheet metal knocked it out, 4 teeth pulled (because my orthodontist said my mouth was too small for my teeth.  My Mommy couldn't believe it either.), a crown on root canal tooth, four years of orthodontia, and in recent years, an incomplete implant that has given me permanent nerve damage from incorrect placement.  Sometimes I drool and have food in the corner of my mouth that I cannot feel and have no clue is there.  It makes for great dining out. 
Soon I will be getting an actual tooth where the implant hole is.  Which will be nice, being able to smile with less of a jack-o-lantern effect.  I will be sure to give that shit-eating grin again to everyone I know, and am known for. 
It is no secret I live in Colombia, and partake in the local offerings.  Lately it has been legally permissive to carry cocaine, and I believed it to be a sign of good things to come.  Well, I was right!Here's proof that sniffing stuff is beneficial, and thanks Salon, for the info on Special K!  Maybe Ecstasy will make a comeback next, and you'll never hear from me again!  Dream on, people, I am a survivor.  I've been told so, by a doctor, just yesterday.  Ok, an optician, and not a doctor-doctor.  Still, she did tell me my best friend Sadie has cataracts.  Have a day!

My name isn't Booie anymore. It's Ms. Lopez

I must be living in an ulterior universe.  Unless my eyes fail me (which they are as of last year), I am certain we are living at a friends house, with not a cent to buy a birthday present for my son with tomorrow, and you stole my silver jewelry when you were kicked out of the guest bedroom last night, after you kicked me off the bed.  Wow, what a luck-y girl I am!! Any one want to switch places with me?  Anyone? Anyone?

YET, this is the quote I copy and pasted directly from your Skype message tonite.  Enjoy todays Words of Twaddle, straight from #3's never ending pie hole.  " I (we) made enough money for whatever makes you happy booie."
Funny, you don't seem to be gakked out on coke or codeine either, and we know how a certain someone (you) has a strong addiction to both.  And, money is no object according to your big boy words.  So unless I am unknowingly living on planet Zog, I have no concept of reality in all sense of the word. 
Dude, get a grip.  I don't love you anymore.  I certainly don't like you anymore either.  You don't even offer me a pill, and just expect me to swoon all over you?  Time for someone to get another Maiditute, cuz this one is out.
P.S. What a shame that the U AND the Dolphins lost so badly these past two games, tonite and Saturday.  Boo f-ing hoo. 




I (we) made enough money for whatever makes you happy booie.

6 Reasons why you should never follow your heart.

My judgmental 'friend' Carol once told me I wear my heart on my sleeve, as if she was some kind of fashion plate.  I had to talk her in to changing her hairstyle from that 80's style we all wore 30+ years ago:  pompadour on top, perm on bottom, and sides plowed straight out with hairspray and a blow dryer.  I got her into the Katie Couric, which of course she STILL wears today!  So it is equally disturbing to me having those words so deeply embedded and played over like a skipping CD in my VW Cabriolet, that I am gonna start wearing a new accessory.  Like it or not, it is sure to become a staple in my wardrobe, I can only hope.  That's because it is my brain.
NO LONGER am I going to be the sweet, polite, and un-phased girl who followed 'The Rules" religiously, but going rogue to the ranks of cold-hearted bitch.  Here's why all women should: 

1.  Give the people what they want.  Know how many times I have heard "You don't know how pretty you are" or "You act like you don't care that you are pretty."  Well, you don't know how stupid you look either, because looks are God given, by my parents.  For a long time, I did not know looks were a prerequisite to being a nice human being.  Those days are long gone.  I'm headed to Bitch Boulevard, so buckle up, or tuck and roll. 
2.  There is power in numbers.  Apparently, I am in the minority, and The Man has been holdin me down for too long-reparation time, boys!  In the past I have been the woman out, watching other women group together like gazelles as the lions (men) look for the weak one to pounce on.  I sat in the men's pride, never being able to figure what tangled women together so tightly.  I did not have had anything in common with these groups of women, whether playing bunco or going to "The Vagina Monologues".  Ok ladies, let's even out the playing field, because I have some info to share with all of you.  It should only take about 4 minutes, and then we can go back to our wine. 
3.  Men actually like to chase the pack, so give it to them.  Being nice sure seems to piss them off, because they suddenly treat you like shit.

4.  Think of all those 'I like you more than a friend' confrontations you can avoid, by befriending only women.  I somehow recall my old days of having a few drinks with those boy 'friends' on occasion, and ending up at planned parenthood the next morning.  What a friend, indeed.
5.  Buying my own drinks is fair trade for not having to watch ESPN.

6.  Besides spooning in bed, and washing my car, all men can be replaced with a certain battery operated object, and without the usual dissatisfaction.  I hear toothbrushes are making a comeback lately, and some don't even need batteries!  Leave it to women to multitask a simple personal hygiene product.  And, I can always go to a car wash.  Hmmm.

Feel free to add more in the comments section.  I am off to go watch the Miami game, eat wings, and pound some brews with my #3 reason not to ever marry.  I need many, many more reasons, obviously.  Love sure does suck. 

Caution: Bitch Ahead

Big news.  Due to the fact that I have hit an all time low at the ripe old, ancient age of 45, the incessant mocking from #3 will soon come to an end.  I am leaving this hell for another, and going back to the states.  Slowly it's beginning to sink in, and although I have yet to announce to the world on fb, I am getting more accustomed to the scenes that surely will play out once I step off the plane in Miami and get up from kissing the ground below.  What I am uncomfortable facing are little things like procuring an income so I don't mooch off my son for too long, and when one doesn't even have a drivers license, it is going to pretty much suck starting over.  Let alone mending my stomped on, chewed up, and spit out heart.  I have never been the type of girl to be mean, play games, or shroud behind the bitch curtain, but I see now the purpose in it and how I have been used as a diaper.  I actually am feeling sorry for anyone who I may meet and come in contact with down the road, because I am reinventing the psycho bitch that everyone loathed and talked about.  I hope no one likes me;  it makes for less drama and a shorter Christmas list.  What a tightrope to balance!  Nice enough to get what I want and will definitely need, but cold enough to stop any motive filled jerkoff from trying to pierce my protective bubble.  World, you've been served.  Now I can go back to crying hysterically and laughing uncontrollably every six minutes.  Love and lollipops.

Join me for lunch in the upscale part of Medellin

Lately I have been trying to eliminate the stench of failure I've been wearing like a glove.  So I bought a new bottle of Paco Rabonne's Black XS,

and committed myself to a few new habits.  Trust me, all my good, bad habits like eating too much, drinking too much, snorting too much, sleeping too much (to list a few) are there as usual.  They are NEVER EVER going to be replaced.  I have priorities, people.   Stupid things like making sure I learn ten Spanish words a day, counting my blessings (all four of them), and walking my dog.  She has this need to poop twice a day.  Go figure.  I actually wrote a daily to-do list and adhered to it for about a week before totally forgetting about it, so I consider it 'winning' and don't advise anyone to try it at home or elsewhere.  My good, bad habits feel free to dedicate your life's work to.  I have and look at me!  School's for fools!
Men love Demi Moore.  At least four men I now hate but thought at one brief moment were decent, air-deserving members of humanity, have had an obsession with Demi Moore.  Reason enough for me to comment on my three deductions attributing to her hotness.  The obvious first is her voice.  After going to my last Green Day concert in Ft. Lauderdale, my voice sounded just like hers, because I screamed like I was engulfed in flames.  They were that awesome.  So that's all every woman has to do to sound like her.  Go see Green Day.  Plus, Billie Jo Armstrong is the subject of my dreams 99% of the time.  He sees me in the crowd, and takes me away to live the rock star life I so deserve.  I've been practicing by consuming my fair share of drugs and alcohol, so any day now its bye bye blog, hello permanent intoxication and beautiful eyeliner filled family. 
The second reason Demi is too good for these four slobs is she was able to shave her head (the ultimate F-U to all male long hair lovers) and still look sultry instead of like Susan Powers.  I threaten to shave mine off but since it took me 21 years to grow it, I don't think I will be around long enough to see it grow back.  Thirdly, Demi played a super humanly strong Navy Seal in that movie she shaved her head for.  #3 (present husband) insisted I watch it so he could have his 1 hour 40 minute fantasy of her and I having sex.  He didn't actually say that, but did he need to?  I didn't think so either.  I have my own future set with Billie Jo Armstrong, so please, Demi, come get him.  He's waiting. 
I have had serious considerations about joining the military lately since watching G.I. Jane.  Mainly because I have lost my Florida cosmetology license (sayonara, prosperity) and it would give me a clean getaway from #3.  However, #3 actually has served in the air force and said they don't take women my age.  I guess you can't be all you can be after a certain amount of time.  Add that to my lifelong asthma affliction and the fact that I almost died last year from a ten centimeter abscess on my kidney, and I can see my entire future will exist in front of a laptop.  Goodbye, shaved head, hello flatter ass.  You can all breathe easy again, my dear readers.
To clear any misunderstandings, I thought I would end once and for all the incorrect image most people have about Colombian women.  This topic came about from our last lunch date, in the El Pablado section of Medellin.  As we were walking, a prostitute was standing outside a liquor store, posing in a very short skirt, legs wiiiiiide apart.  My perceptive spouse says unconvincingly "Eww, yuck", and then brings it up again asking "What the hell?''  Like it needed reiterating.  He is as dumb as any hooker here, I swear.  But I digress.
This visual will put to bed your incorrect assumptions, once and for all.  Sorry to burst your bubbles.  

What everyone thinks Colombian women look like:

What Colombian women really, really look like:

She does look like 'The happy hooker', doesn't she?  This was taken from this article on ads Brazil was running, but later stopped.  To think this is someone's daughter.  I guess that's what my parents now say about me.  Touché.

Your Words of Twaddle for today are all the lyrics from Enrique Iglesias singing "I can be your hero".  Don't hate me for etching that song in your head for the rest of the day.  It's only right that someone else feels my pain, since I want to stab my eardrums with an ice pick after #3 sang it to me.  Gag me with a 9 mm.  Have a bitchin' day.