Chicanos For Love–Part One
Relationships are a string of definitions: Long term, short term, casual, experimental
By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: September 12, 2016
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“I remember when relationships were just making out, talking about school, familia, making out some more, breaking up, getting back together then letting go or getting married and having lots of crying orejones,” said Ramona Gilbatar to her best friend of the month, Glenda Surjete.
“Yeah, now relationships are a string of definitions,” agreed Glenda. “Long term, short term, casual, experimental. Then there’s Communication and Confrontation. Throw on top of that, Loyalty and Conflict. Character or Psyche. Needs. Relationship Triangle. True and False Selves. Values Conflict. It’s a miracle people even stay together longer than one conversation.”
Both women worked in a laundry where they folded and packaged laundry for meat packing plants and delivery firms. They both fantasized what kind of man might have worn a given outfit, making each other laugh in the process. Neither had ever tasted a true lasting relationship with any guy. Both were twenty-two and looking for a Cave Man/Hunter type. Or at least an aggressive Gatherer.
“When we get off, let’s go get something to eat,” said Ramona. “It’s payday. Then we can go listen to some Tejano music at the European Grill.”
“They play Tejano music at the European Grill?”
“Sure. A Méjicano just bought it and wanted to keep the name although you won’t find any European or even a grill in the place. His specialty is tacos. He claims to serve a variety of 101 kinds of tacos. And he is twenty-six and single and the most handsome [i]bato ever to slap a taco supreme together. There was an article about him in the local newspaper.”
Before you could say Enabling Spirituality, both women were seated close to the manager’s office with the name Claudio Torandado, Mgr. nailed to one side of the door. They had arrived early, deciding to take their meal from the list of 101 Tacos then have a Margarita, maybe several, hoping to trip Claudio the manager as he rushed by. And Glenda did see him walk hurriedly to his office but could not untangle her foot quickly enough to send him flying nor get a look at his face. Glenda agreed that if he was as handsome as Ramona claimed, he was too handsome to be single at such an advanced age of twenty-six, although her own father was thirty-six when he married her mother who was twenty-five. But, she reasoned, her father was probably as plain as God made any man since Adam. Eve had no choice. But her mother did. What her mother saw in her father has remained a mystery to her all these twenty-two years.
“Maybe we should complain about his tacos,” said Ramona.
“Why?” said Glenda, unable to bear criticizing a wonderful appearing man even if he wore a pink tutu and pranced before them.
“That way, he will have to talk to us. Then one of us will make our move.”
“Seems fair. But who moves first?”
Ramona figured that was one problem Eve never faced, but a problem woman has struggled with ever since.
“The one he looks at first,” said Ramona, feeling it was fair since either woman could turn heads in a mortuary laid out with male cadavers.
The moment came when a figure came whizzing by with a vacuum cleaner, his handsome hand carrying it, which hand was attached to his handsome arm leading to his handsome head. They both tried to trip him but he skipped then fell flat on his face all on his own, being tripped by a wrinkle in the carpet.
“We killed him,” said Glenda, one hand to breast, the other covering her mouth, as he lay motionless.
To be continued…
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Chicanos For Love – Part 3
Before either Ramona or Glenda could respond, the TÃa stomped off like a prison warden
By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: September 19, 2016
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Read “Chicanos For Love Part 1
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 2
“Ouch!” repeated the lounging Felipe as he felt another slap come from behind and land on the opposite side of his head from which Ramona had landed hers.
It was the aforementioned TÃa Lola.
“¿Felipe, what are you doing sentado como un loro de peluche en Vera Cruz? Get up.”
Felipe shot up like a dolphin, captivating his audience akin to a preeminent dolphin at any outside aquarium as three pairs of eyes belonging to said TÃa, Ramona and Glenda followed his upward flight and solid landing.
“I have to go,” he said, grabbing the vacuum cleaner and heading away from them in a seamless series of rapid movements.
Being an understanding pair, Ramona and Glenda were left staring at the guardian of the Claudio Torandado castle of honor. She, with her swirled up hair, pursed bright red painted lips, looked at them as if they were two inferiorly prepared tacos.
Before either Ramona or Glenda could respond, the TÃa stomped off like a prison warden who has straightened out a yard full of wicked prisoners who had complained of rotten food, damp cells and stinky mattresses.
“Come back,” said Ramona wistfully, hoping to reset the scene and find out how to get involved with Claudio.
“Does that pepino look like his bro Claudio?” said Glenda.
Ramona looked at Glenda as if she were speaking a dead language, having become dead due to the people having spoken it being dumb as all get out.
“No, silly, would I make all this effort for someone that looked like Felipe?”
“You’ve made lots of efforts for guys who looked like El Cucuy,” reasoned Glenda.
“Well, now I have found the man that makes all the others seem like sorry memories.”
“I thought at this point it was we who found the man that makes all that.”
“Okay, we found him and we will take him down. Girls who work together get what one of them wants.”
Glenda thought about this briefly and could find no reason to disagree with the pronouncement so she remained silent.
They left the establishment owned by Claudio Torandado and spent the next few days talking about him and the likelihood one of them would hog tie him and drag him before their favorite priest. Ramona lived with a sister who was attending college and Glenda lived with her parents who encouraged her to go to college like their neighbor’s daughter, Lupita.
“Someday, Lupita is going to make big money,” said Glenda’s mother, Irma Surjete, while they swung back and forth on a swing in the backyard one warm evening.
“And I’m not, which is fine with me,” said Glenda.
“Well, then you have to find a responsible hombre,” said her father, Leo Surjete, who sat between them, a very dark brown arm around each. “And nowadays, that’s like asking for a straight answer from a politician or a reasonable estimate from a mechanic.”
“Of course it is, apá, but I’m not worried about finding a man. In fact, I think I found one.”
“Where?” said her mother.
“How?” said her father.
Chicanos For Love – Part 4
“You have never even met him. How do you know you want to spend your life with him?”
By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: October 3, 2016
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Read “Chicanos For Love Part 1
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 2
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 3
“Of course it is, apá, but I’m not worried about finding a man. In fact, I think I found one.”
“Where?” said her mother.
“How?” said her father.
“At the European Grill on Atlantic. I went there to eat on payday with Ramona. He owns the place, is handsome, and has money.” These last words were spoken with the anticipatory and sparkling eyes of a Méjicana two weeks into a rigorous vegetarian diet while gazing upon a plate of steak tacos with pineapple with a quick marinade of soy sauce, garlic and ginger flavors to skirt the steak, all there for the taking if she played her cards right.
“Ramona?” said her mother. “¿Esa? She’s looking for Mr. Money, forget about Right or Wrong.”
“I hear she’s aggressive. How you going to compete with her,” said her father.
“Good question,” said Glenda.
There was a pause as her mother and father waited for a response. When none seem to be arriving, her mother pointed out the lack thereof.
“Well?”
“It’s never easy getting a guy to admit he’s crazy about you.”
There was another pause. This one was longer since all involved were not sure whose turn it was. Again, there was not a bush that Irma Surjete ever beat around. She again gave voice.
“I say it’s best to look for a hard-working man. This guy sounds like he does not sweat.”
“Why is that the standard? I like my men to smell nice, not smell up the air.”
“Look at your dad, he works hard but always smells nice.”
“Yeah, but he works in a bakery. He has always smelled like muffins, rolls and cinnamon swirls.”
“Entonces marry someone who works as a florist,” said her mother loftily as if stating a solution to a formidable problem in quantum mechanics.
“I want Claudio Torandado,” she told her parents acting as if she were a petulant little girl wanting a Bebe Jumeau antique doll and no other. She left them swinging in the wind.
Meanwhile, Ramona was petting her sister Octavia’s very flat-faced Persian cat Turbo and telling Octavia about Claudio Torandado. She painted a perfect picture, which her sister then proceeded to scribble over.
“You have never even met him. How do you know you want to spend your life with him?”
“A girl knows these things. Don’t you read romance novels?”
“No.”
“Well, you should. You’ll see there is plenty of loving going on in the world.”
“Yeah, for $34.95 hard cover, $24.95 paperback and $15.99 Kindle.”
“You’ll see. You meet the right guy and your college dreams will evaporate like yesterday’s rain puddle.”
“I’m going to be a mathematician in the theoretical physicists’ field even if it takes me ten years. Whether there is some guy with me at my death bed matters little to me.”
“Octavia, don’t you want kids?”
“Sure. But not before I get my degree and am entrenched in numbers up to my nariz in some tiny cubicle at NASA.”
“Well, the only number I need is one, and he is the one.”
“Didn’t you say Glenda is also fascinated with the orangutan?”
“Sure. But she’ll get over it.”
“Over what?”
“Me nailing Claudio.”
“What if she nails him?”
“He’s not her type by a mile.”
“Why are you? You and she are the same age, same height, nearly same weight if you discount your pizza intake, same job, live in the same barrio and both of you drive Toyota Corollas, although hers is white and yours red.”
“That’s what sets us apart. I live a red life, she a bland white one.”
“Paint your lives how you like, I see a blank canvas. Tell me then, are you both going to drive up to him and offer him un raite and see whose car he jumps into?”
To
Chicanos For Love Part 5
“I mean, is your brain also made up of one of your pimples?”
By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: October 7, 2016
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Read “Chicanos For Love Part 1
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 2
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 3
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 4
“That’s what sets us apart. I live a red life, she a bland white one,” said Ramona.
“Paint your lives how you like, I see a blank canvas. Tell me then, are you both going to drive up to him and offer him un raite and see whose car he jumps into?”
“No. I will wear a form fitted buttoned down red dress and Glenda her white frumpy dress. He will then see me as a passionate, loving, and full of fun and games woman set to lead an enriched life, covered with jewels, cabeza a pie.”
“So, sis, you have life down to a sexy formula.”
“More like a puzzle I have solved. Can’t be wrapping laundry all my life, you know.”
“But you can’t pick up a man like a package of laundry and carry him home under one arm.”
“I will carry him like a freshly pressed suit from the cleaners, carefully and quickly.”
Octavia picked up flat-faced Turbo and went to her room. Ramona smiled a smile of self-assurance.
Very next Friday, Ramona called in sick. She then went to the European Grill at about two o’clock in the afternoon, figuring this would be the best time to catch a manager of any eatery. Fridays were the busiest, she had observed from patronizing countless taco trucks with Glenda all over the city. Restaurants had to be the same, just not as happy, she thought.
Ramona stepped up to the entrance and pulled on the door. The door said, “Chale.” She tried a second time but found out this was one inflexible door and refused to be pulled on. She looked up at the building as people have been doing since the castle days. I guess it is a primitive instinct coming from the fact that many a castle had to be stormed to gain entrance. The quick look was to see how reinforced were the battlements and parapets. Ramona saw nothing but pigeons looking for a pigeon to drop their load on.
Ramona thought. Diplomacy worked now and then, she concluded. She knocked. Twice. Three times, then a fourth. She then proceeded to pound on the door a toda madre. She heard movement. She stepped back, ready to charge. After further noise, the door opened. Felipe, Claudio’s younger brother, stepped out, his pimples having multiplied, now streaming down his cheeks and populating both sides of his neck.
“Yeah?” he croaked.
“You’re Felipe, right? Claudio’s little bro?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to talk to Claudio.”
“Can’t.”
“Why? Is he busy doing the books or ordering stuff?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know I can’t talk to him, estup …Felipe?”
“I know, that’s how.”
“You know what?”
“Eh?”
“I mean, is your brain also made up of one of your pimples? Tell me, why Claudio himself can’t come to the puerta? ”
“He can’t.”
“You said that.”
“And I’ll say it again and again until you go away.”
“Which I ain’t.”
“It gets cold out here at night.”
Felipe began to close the door. Ramona threw her weight against Felipe and not the door. They both landed in a kitchen barren of food smells or people who prepare food smells.
“Where is everybody?” Ramona said, getting up without helping Felipe up. He seemed to prefer the prone position as before and again with one elbow propping him up, he carried on the conversation from there.
“We had to close when Claudio left.”
To be continued…
be
Chicanos For Love – Part 6
She found an ideal website — Chicanos for Love — helping you match up with your personal idea of a dream.
By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: October 24, 2016
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Read “Chicanos For Love Part 1
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 2
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 3
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 4
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 5
by Tommy Villalobos
“Where is everybody?” Ramona said, getting up without helping Felipe get up. He seemed to prefer the prone position as before and again with one elbow propping him up, he carried on the conversation from there.
“We had to close when Claudio left.”
“Why?” Ramona said, more alarm in her voice than intended.
“Because he knew everything about taco stuff and we don’t.”
“You jackass. I’m asking you why Claudio left, not about tacos?”
“He went to a monastery,” Felipe said as effortlessly as if he had just relayed that Claudio had fallen off a log.
“A monastery?”
“A monastery.”
“Where?”
“Who knows?”
“Why?” she said in distress, watching The Good Life puff away.
“You asked that already.”
“Where?” she said, ready to pounce at him like an agitated wolverine.
“And you asked that too, already.”
“This is awful.”
“That’s what your friend said.”
“My friend?”
“The gal you were with when one of you tripped me in the dining area the other day.”
“You mean Glenda?”
“Don’t know since I didn’t catch her name, and she was dressed in some kinda white frumpy dress and wobbled about in those black high heels.”
“Glenda?”
“Glenda, if you insist.”
“She was here? Today?”
“No, two days ago.”
“Why that flirt. She never told me.”
“She was just as messed up about it as you are. I think she almost cried.”
“Glenda never cries and will never cry. You need a heart to do that. And no one will cry at her funeral, not even her.”
“Maybe she is not your friend.”
“Best one I ever had. Did he say when he was coming back to make more money?”
“I think when you go to one of those places, it’s, like, forever.”
“He’ll die there?”
“With full honors.”
Ramona wanted to kick Felipe in the head but decided the pastilla didn’t know he was a pastilla so her kicking him on any part of his body would be wasted effort and energy.
“So, he just walked away from making money to maybe begging with a tin cup on the streets.”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course not. You don’t know anything.”
“I know Claudio is gone out of your life, for good. And I don’t think he was ever in it, if somebody would ask me.”
Ramona felt she could have squeezed Felipe’s head to half its size then pull his lips over his eyes and then drag him through the kitchen, across the dining area, and out the front door. He quickly moved out of her reach. Her eyes must have ratted on her.
She left the European Grill for good. She went online looking for a pestoso.
She found an ideal website, Chicanos For Love. They helped you match up with your personal idea of a dream. The categories were endless:
Lowrider Hynas Girls Connecting With Lowrider Batos
Taco Eating Chicanos Looking For Taco Eating Chicanas Y Visa Versa
Committed Cholos Looking For Committing Cholas
Rejected Chicanos Looking For Accepting Chicanas And Visa Versa
Workout Type Chicanas Looking For Workout Type Chicanos
Professional Types Looking For Somewhat Professional Types
Tejana Music Lovers Wanting Tejano Music Lovers. Oldies Fans Will Do.
The list went on for pages, so she, Ramona, felt she would find someone.
Glenda took the philosophical approach. “Qué se vaya donde quera. I found somebody else anyway,” she told Ramona over a coffee latte at a downtown coffee latte place.
“Who is it?” said Ramona.
To be continued…continued…
Chicanos For Love – Part 6
She found an ideal website — Chicanos for Love — helping you match up with your personal idea of a dream.
By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: October 24, 2016
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Read “Chicanos For Love Part 1
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 2
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 3
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 4
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 5
by Tommy Villalobos
“Where is everybody?” Ramona said, getting up without helping Felipe get up. He seemed to prefer the prone position as before and again with one elbow propping him up, he carried on the conversation from there.
“We had to close when Claudio left.”
“Why?” Ramona said, more alarm in her voice than intended.
“Because he knew everything about taco stuff and we don’t.”
“You jackass. I’m asking you why Claudio left, not about tacos?”
“He went to a monastery,” Felipe said as effortlessly as if he had just relayed that Claudio had fallen off a log.
“A monastery?”
“A monastery.”
“Where?”
“Who knows?”
“Why?” she said in distress, watching The Good Life puff away.
“You asked that already.”
“Where?” she said, ready to pounce at him like an agitated wolverine.
“And you asked that too, already.”
“This is awful.”
“That’s what your friend said.”
“My friend?”
“The gal you were with when one of you tripped me in the dining area the other day.”
“You mean Glenda?”
“Don’t know since I didn’t catch her name, and she was dressed in some kinda white frumpy dress and wobbled about in those black high heels.”
“Glenda?”
“Glenda, if you insist.”
“She was here? Today?”
“No, two days ago.”
“Why that flirt. She never told me.”
“She was just as messed up about it as you are. I think she almost cried.”
“Glenda never cries and will never cry. You need a heart to do that. And no one will cry at her funeral, not even her.”
“Maybe she is not your friend.”
“Best one I ever had. Did he say when he was coming back to make more money?”
“I think when you go to one of those places, it’s, like, forever.”
“He’ll die there?”
“With full honors.”
Ramona wanted to kick Felipe in the head but decided the pastilla didn’t know he was a pastilla so her kicking him on any part of his body would be wasted effort and energy.
“So, he just walked away from making money to maybe begging with a tin cup on the streets.”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course not. You don’t know anything.”
“I know Claudio is gone out of your life, for good. And I don’t think he was ever in it, if somebody would ask me.”
Ramona felt she could have squeezed Felipe’s head to half its size then pull his lips over his eyes and then drag him through the kitchen, across the dining area, and out the front door. He quickly moved out of her reach. Her eyes must have ratted on her.
She left the European Grill for good. She went online looking for a pestoso.
She found an ideal website, Chicanos For Love. They helped you match up with your personal idea of a dream. The categories were endless:
Lowrider Hynas Girls Connecting With Lowrider Batos
Taco Eating Chicanos Looking For Taco Eating Chicanas Y Visa Versa
Committed Cholos Looking For Committing Cholas
Rejected Chicanos Looking For Accepting Chicanas And Visa Versa
Workout Type Chicanas Looking For Workout Type Chicanos
Professional Types Looking For Somewhat Professional Types
Tejana Music Lovers Wanting Tejano Music Lovers. Oldies Fans Will Do.
The list went on for pages, so she, Ramona, felt she would find someone.
Glenda took the philosophical approach. “Qué se vaya donde quera. I found somebody else anyway,” she told Ramona over a coffee latte at a downtown coffee latte place.
“Who is it?” said Ramona.
To be continued…
Chicanos For Love – Part 7
“Love is sacred to me. I don’t kid about it.”
By Tommy Villalobos, Contributing Editor
Published on LatinoLA: November 3, 2016
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Read “Chicanos For Love Part 1
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 2
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 3
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 4
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 5
Read “Chicanos For Love Part 6
“Who is it?” said Ramona.
“A guy called Louie who works at a tire shop near where I live.”
“Do you like him?”
“Love. I love him and he loves me.”
“No kidding.”
“Love is sacred to me. I don’t kid about it.”
“Then you are no longer interested in Claudio?”
“If he were drowning, I’d throw him a sack of papas.”
“We didn’t even meet him.”
“He would have been like all men. Except Louie.”
“Why is Louie an exception?”
“Because we’re in love.”
“You just met him.”
“That’s what really makes it special. I know him so little that it has to be love.”
Ramona was forced to ponder Glenda’s reasoning but could find no reason behind her reasoning.
Ramona continued to search Chicanos For Love website for love. Glenda dated Louie until she found out he was also dating several other females who also considered him in love with them and they in love with him.
Claudio was never heard from again. “A passing dream,” Ramona dotted in her journal, which she kept in the open for anyone to read.
Ramona decided to re-position herself in life. No more salivating over men. She would play it cool and refrain from showing too much interest. Let them chase her until the right one catches her then wrestles her to the ground under the shade of a majestic fruit tree.
It has been working ever since Eve.
End