Friday, April 21, 2006

Excuse Me Maam', You Dropped Your Race Card!

A distinguished congresswoman from Georgia recently decided that it was ok to punch a US Capital Policeman who didn’t recognize her as she attempted to walk around a metal detector in the entryway to the US capital building. Evidentially she didn’t have an extra 2.5 minutes to spare to go through the detector like everyone else. So she unsuccessfully usurps the protocol and has now found herself in a huge PR mess.

Her less than intelligent camp has tried to explain the story away using multiple scenerios that seem to only further insult our intelligence. Things like, “She recently changed her hairstyle so the guard didn’t recognize her” or “she left her congressperson ID pin at home” and the Zsa Zsa Gabor defense; ”She only tapped him with the back of her open-hand.” Of Course now, like a moth to a flame, the racial accusations are rippling out around the situation. No matter what her excuse is, she shouldn’t have physically tangled with a gentleman whose sole purpose is to provide security for her and thousands of others in one of the most highly targeted-for-terrorism buildings in the world. I think her kindergardeny homepage and glamour-shots photo gallery speaks volumes about this woman’s couth and rightfully discredits her to a T. Too bad her constituency doesn’t feel that way.

Then there’s the massive political nightmare taking placing in Durham NC, AKA the armpit of North Carolina. A Black stripper (and lets be real here, a prostitute) has claimed she was raped by various members of the Duke lacrosse team during a party she was “hired” to attend. Even though large portions of her story do not jive, the accusations are very serious and are causing lost jobs and a big blemish on the university’s platinum reputation. News reports are showing candlelight vigils at local predominantly black colleges and a lot of racial grandstanding (enter Jesse Jackson) taking place in and around Durham as a result.

Whether the rape took place or not, the fact that she is African American is inconsequential. The facts are: This woman is a hired sex worker. She made a bad career choice and put herself in a compromising situation willingly. Now everyone seems to be to busy defending her race rather than asking the real questions like “why is a single young mother/college student stripping at fraternity parties”? Id like to point out, when the identical scenario took place with Kobe Bryant and that emotionally challenged girl in Colorado, we didn’t see local anglophiles lighting candles and claiming racial motivations.

It angers me to see the “race card” being played so flippantly. Both scenarios involved women who were in fact black, but more importantly women who made a bad choice. This is clearly not a black and white issue, it’s a stupidity issue. Stupidity shouldn’t be defended. If I were African American, I would be angered by the fact that these women are allowing their stupid actions to be racially charged. They are effectively helping neutralize the seriousness of true-to-life racial prejudice in this country, and like the sheep who cried wolf found eventually found out, the party will soon be over.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Oh My.....

It's Semana Santa (Holy Week) in Costa Rica and clearly they take it very seriously. Wednesday-Wednesday everything (I mean everything) grinds to a halt. No cars on the roads, No people anywhere, everyone goes to church and eats special food. Theres NO alcohol alowed. In fact there are armed guards in the few stores that are open that guard the licquor isles. It's a strange sensation to go from almost running over 10 people a day in the street to having your own personal avenues in a matter of days.

Holy Week has not been my friend. I have really needed to get things done this week in preparation for my trip back to the US tomorrow, and have been met with closed doors and unanswered phones all over the place.

Not to mention the holy robes they wear look like KKK uniforms.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Boobie Trapped!

So, one of the first deals I’m working on in my new gig involves a low-A high-B list Hollywood Starlet who shall remain nameless. In the spirit of me never being able to keep my mouth shut, here are some clues. She’s got big boobs, Hepatitis A and became a household name after her rocker husband ^%&$(% her silly on camera (Um…Not that I saw it) and then “accidentally” let the tape get released to the puritanical American public which gained them both some valuable media face time. (Wasn’t it Einstein who deduced that Controversy=$$$?...or something like that).

I am receiving a crash course on dealing with these types of personalities in very short order. They have absolutely nothing to do with the deal until its done. They aren’t even asked if it’s something they are interested in until the contracts are ready to sign. Of course, this leaves the wide-open possibility that all the front work and negotiations were done in vein if ‘pampered starlet’ decides it goes against her moral/ethical/religious fiber. Somehow I don’t think that will be a problem here. Then again, a sex-tape epiphany could have occurred and she may have since joined the PTA and a local ladies luncheon club. Um….probably not.

The bigger take away here is that Sex sells. Whether it’s your own face you’re peddling to the flesh craved public or if you’re doing it on behalf of another, you cant beat a good set of boobs to push product.

I can talk about the deal we just closed with Burt Reynolds. I still haven’t figured out whose gonna care about it, but nonetheless it’s done.. I will also say, A,B,C or D list…all of these people are making MUCH more money than I am.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Flat Tired!

We have now officially had 3 flat tires on our rental car since arriving in Costa Rica on Sunday night. Last nights was particularly great because it happened on a back-ish road with no gas stations, so we had to get out and walk down a dark street with no sidewalks until we came to a main road and gas station. The nice thing is that all gas stations here are full service. In fact they WONT let you pump your own gas, check your own oil or fix your own flat. The station attendant WALKED with us back to the car, fixed the tire and then WALKED back. He wouldn’t accept a ride, but gladly accepted the 2.00 tip.

Tipping is funny here. All tips are included in your restaurant bills and they typically equal about 1 or 2 US dollars. Most Ticos make about 300 US dollars a month, so it’s no surprise that you can get a live-in maid who will cook, clean, iron, wash clothes for 100 dollars a month. I left 5000 colones (10 dollars) on my breakfast table yesterday and the waiter about had a heart attack. Today he rolled out the red carpet when I walked in and acted as my personal man servant during my 30 minute meal.

I’m going to navigate the AutoMercado (grocery store) tonight and check out what’s available on the shelves. Honestly it looks like a Win Dixie, and has most everything Id want. Since it took me 30 minutes to boil water last night, im going to go the microwavable route this time.

Once I have my house, I can have my groceries delivered to my door. Now if that’s not Tico-Fabulous I don’t know what is.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Uno, Dos, Tres.....

As American Flight 1234 landed in San Jose Costa Rica, Jason M was hard pressed in between a native Costa Rican and an American escaped convict in misery class. I had given up being upset that my upgrade to first class didn’t go through. I’m sure I lost out to one of the 4 kids from the same family wasting prime ass space and free cocktails in the big seats up front. For the record, kids should NOT be allowed in first class. Yeah I said it. The flight from Miami is defiantly not one Ill take again. The Dallas flight is much less crowded and less third worldly feeling. I was waiting for the live chickens and incense to make their appearance, he body odor already had.

I bought and stuffed the two single largest suitcases I have ever seen with clothes, laptops, some pictures and stuffed armadillo for good measure. I had to pay to put them on the plane, but that beats the 50% import taxes levied on goods shipped here from the US. The Manuel Noriega customs agent looked at me and laughed as I maneuvered my bags through his line. I think he waved me through out of pity, knowing I was about to be attacked by the hoards of screaming taxi drivers and local nardewells that crowd the airport exit as you try to make your way to your car. I literally had to swat them off of me.. Note to self: White boy with big, unmanageable, awkward bags= huge opportunity to be taken for a ride from a local yokel.

My company had a driver pick me up/ I would say that made me feel pretty fabulous, except I was in the passenger seat of a dodge neon with no exhaust pipe. We wound our way to the corporaty-apartmenty place im hanging my hat for this week. I checked in and then immediately checked out the bed.

Today was filled with introductions, a welcome lunch, my first conference call, and most importantly house hunting. Juan-Pablo, my realtor, worked his Columbian ass off driving me around the city. He speaks fantastic English and kept saying “im sorry very much Mr. Jason” every time he hit a pothole. Evidentially he believes Potholes don’t occur in America, I didn’t have the heart to correct him. I found a fantastic place to live. It was built last year by a local architect who also lives on the property. There are 4 detached townhouses in the complex. 3 bedrooms, a maids room, a security guard, and for good measure a toothless german shepherd (not kidding) who gets fed mashed up corn meal with vitamins in it. Houses here don’t come with ANYTHING in them.. so you have to buy kitchen appliances or get your realtor to negotiate that into the deal. Juan Pablo pulled out his Columbian card and the landlord (also Columbian) magically agreed to appliances and a reduced rental rate. I told Juan-Pablo that he “rocked”, he thought I meant I was going to throw something at him. Im doing the American reputation loads of favors here.

I was so beat when I got back in, I attempted to call and order a pizza and somehow got soup and a sandwich. I have no idea if that’s what I ordered or if they just got it wrong. I ate it anyway. It is clearly time for some espanol leciones por favor. Si, como no! Gracias. (Jasons Spanish vocab condensed.)

Tomorrow, I have to be at the office at 8am....... um.....yeah.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

All Too Fast

  1. 4 more days before I move to Central America.
  2. My folks are coming in tomorrow to help me pack up every inch of my life and put it into storage.
  3. I have a blog heckler who enjoys tossing not-so-veiled insults from behind an internet curtain.
  4. I’m pushing off a would-be relationship in the name of an international move.
  5. I’m selling my car
  6. I finally broke down and called Mr. Man for the first time in 6 months. Left message of course.
  7. I have been asked to be a god parent. I accepted.
  8. I’m looking for houses in Costa Rica
  9. I’m closing bank accounts, getting international residency and learning about foreign earned income tax credits.
  10. I’m still working while 1-9 continues to go on.