the following will be the first of (hopefully) many diaryesque entries into my blog for your reading pleasure.

Please enjoy.

I wish I had the time (i´m paying for this computer) to write my adventures in full style. Be satisfied with the promise that I will tell you everything in full color when I´m home.

With the exception of my Penguin alarm clock reading 5:30, it was just like any morning of any day. My mother desperately tried to push me out of bed, i muttered curse words into my pillow, and I eventually stumble into the shower. I beatbox through the whole ordeal, shampoo running down my face, and run out the door. Naked,(Just like in the parking lot of ACLC) with the exception of my beautiful jacket. My grandparents are waiting outside (Memom´s hangover has worn off) and I say goodbye to each of them. As my grandmother hugs me, she looks me over, pausing at the sight of my jacket. ¨Don´t fall in love, okay?¨ she says, still eyeing it´s pinstripes. goddamn I must look like a badass. Even my grandma is down

As we drive down Grand my tired eyes catch sight of who but Morgan Baxter, the girl I´ve been trying to see for almost a month, cutting down the street. She´s just chilling on the sidewalk, while I´m on the way to another continent. Damnit. No worries however, the promise of beautiful Tucumanas keeps me strong.

As I´m walking into the security check at the Oakland airport, i hear this voice, ¨Man, check this guy out. Jeans, T shirt, baseball hat and that nice, nice jacket. You look sharp, man. You seen this kid? He looks sharp¨ that security guard boosted my ego like no other man has ever been able to. I love that man. and this jacket.

Let me tell you somehting about flirting with girls in airports. This is an unparalled experience that every man should take part in at least once. There´s something so amazingly perfect about knowing that you, and the girl you are charming, will soon be flying to different parts of the world, never EVER to see eachother again. In one instance, This amazingly pretty blonde girl stood in line at a coffee place in the airport. I walked right behind her and whispered, ¨why are all the beautiful girls always at Starbucks?¨ She turned around and flashed me the most perfect smile Ivé ever seen. I had trouble walking away, this girl was amazing. The moral? Always hit on every girl you see in an airport. Even if you´re already one.

Buenos Aires is the most insane city I have ever been in, for two reasons: Firstly, there are no traffic laws. This is not a damn joke, the streets in Argentina are more dangerous than the worst parts of Oakland, Richmond and Compton combined. If a car hits a pedestrian, it´s the pedestrian´s fault. The stop signs are literally nothing more than decoration. People only stop for lights at big intersections. No speed limits, the cars drive in the middle of the road. I saw three minicrashes between the airport and the house. The people don´t even care. They yell for a second and then drive off. But for some reason everything works, because everyone knows that everybody else is insane.

The second reason is much, much more enjoyable. There is no way to explain how many inexplicably beautiful women walk the streets of Buenos Aires everyday. I thought it was a joke, or a misconception, no way one place can have more beautiful women than any other. I´ve never been so wrong, i swear it. Beautiful, skinny, thick, blonde, every perfect adjective is encompassed by the women of Buenos Aires. Please come here, and understand. Words won´t even do them justice. It´s the middle of winter and the streets are like goddamn fashion show runways. Jesus i love them.

The streets are shit though. Can´t skate anywhere.

Alright, so Tucuman (the place where the family lives) is amazing. Beautiful food, pretty girls, all of that. But I´m sorry I don´t have enough time to elaborate, so I must chose one thing above all to share. The most pressing issue. Oh man, there´s two. But they tie together., so it´s okay.

So, the nightlife here is like nowhere else. People simply don´t sleep. This is not an exaggeration. Parties end at 8:00 am. So, on my first night, we´re out at 4:00 with my cousins and we go to a bar. I fuck up a couple beers, and ask my cousin if she wants to go for a walk. My cousin Julieta, who happens to be the most beautiful girl in the entire town (this is a consensus). So we´re walking along, I´m enjoying my first buzz, letting it dance around my ankles and push my confidence, when I start to flirt with my cousin (who, let me clarify, is only my cousin through the family of my stepsister´s mother´s sister, so really, she is only a girl. Let´s stop calling her my cousin.) This girl is amazing. She´s hella pretty and hella funny even in English, and the point of the story is that I think I´ve fallen for her (sorry grandma) and my family (her family)wants me to pursue even though she has a boyfriend and she is so fine, goddamn the devil. I speak , and type, very quickly when I´m juiced. More of that later(with more puncuation and elaboration), if/when things progress. Maybe even some pictures.

Otras Cosas:

I haven´t gone to bed before 6:30 AM this entire trip

i like light drinking, but not being drunk. fucka drunk.

oh man, i like my cousin. you just don´t understand.

i almost got hit by a car. twice. two cars.

my uncle is hella good at throwing flicks. he´s never seen a disc in his life before this.

ALL the food here is good. ALL!

all the food here is cheap! We fed 6 people with $12 US dollars, which included two pizzas, 4 tacos, two quesadillas, two pots of wine (hahahaha), 12 empanadas, and a couple sodas. niggas Shane and Henry would go stupid dummy retarded here.

fuck cigarettes. don´t think ima come back smoking. (EVERYONE does here)

Futbol is life. My grandmother (a 75 year old woman) PRAYED that argentina would win their game at every meal. It was madness when they won (i know you saw that sickass goal in overtime), people driving their cars with people on the roof, screaming with their shirts off, honking their horns for 6 hours. and I wasn´t even in the city. Next game, I´m going.

I woke up this morning to fucking fireworks in the park across the street. Real badass, crazy hardcore, 4th of July fireworks. Nobody knows why. Someone was celebrating something at 8:00 Monday morning. what the fuck?

i am so fucking Kerouac in this jacket.



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I have so many other things to tell everyone, and I can´t wait to be home with all of these beautiful stories to tell (don´t think I´ve lost all of my depth because I only talked of good food and pretty girls on my blog).

I love you all, and I love you! (and my cousin!)


Peace peace.



p.s. be glad you´re not poor.