The Return of the Ruben

Ok, friends, here's the deal, I'm only going to tell you this once (a flat out lie, I tell everyone everything a billion and a half times): if someone asks you how we know each other, the answer is that we are old army buddies. Now, I know you may be telling yourself, "I've never been in the army and I'm relatively sure Ruben has never been in the army. What the fuck?" You are right to assume that like you I have never seen military service. But here's the deal, I've watched more than my share of Nick-at-Nite in my day and it recently struck me how many shows had episodes where the lead character would have an old wacky army buddy come over and change everyone's lives for half an hour. I think when I am a family man, I may need some of that.

I grew up in a Marine Corps family (dad, two uncles, four cousins) and essentially had an ROTC upbringing. That all changed the day while boxing with my dad (I was 16). I knocked the man out, and that was that. There were a lot of things I was into that my dad wasn't too crazy about, but he saw something in me that he felt was special and so he always supported me (except when my band was booking a tour for the first time and he told me I was wasting my time with music. He ate those words once I started making some $ and improved self-esteem). He talked to me about the military tradition in the family and how he never wanted me in the Corps because I am too smart and have to much to offer the world without endangering myself. I wasn't planning on going in anyhow, but, I can't wait to see what it is I am supposed to do for the world (sorry to sound like an ass, dad).

My favorite Marine Corps memory has to do with a time I made fun of this Marine at a party (again, I was 16). This dude was probably in his early to mid 20's and got so pissed at me. I wasn't making fun of the Marines, because I have a lot of respect for the organization, but I was making fun of this fucktard being a Marine. This guy wanted to kick my ass so hard and had to be restrained by his buddies. This made me laugh even more because I couldn't believe that this fully grown adult (I use the term loosely) wanted to beat the face of a teenager in so bad. Well, I got asked by the host if I could stop heckling Marines and I did because I like to stay civil at parties (just don't run into my in a back alley).

I had originally planned to talk more about military stuff, but I really don't feel like it anymore.

I forgot the other thing I had to mention about yesterday. See, this is my problem: I have no short term memory. Now, I can remember things from years past, but if you ask me what I did today, I'll probably either answer with a "I don't know" or my personal favorite "Oh, you know," because I really do figure that anyone else would probably know better than I do.

That brings me into today. The number 1 thing I did today was buy a little pocket notebook. I was forgetting so many great things I observed and thought, that I decided I had to get myself a portable thing to write ideas down on as the day goes by. BONUS: It fits perfectly in my back right pocket where I used to wear my Hobson rag. But, since I quit the gang and evicted my rag, I had a vacancy in the Ruben's Pants Hotel (still room for the ladies). It's a very simple note book... 60, 3x5 sheets (not enough sheets if you ask me. I want it as thick as my wallet so my ass looks like it has two large rectangular growths), it has spiral binding (I wouldn't have it any other way), and a red and black cover. I just discovered thecover was red right now. The lighting in the store made it look pink, which I liked better than the blue and the yellow covers.Red is still better than blue or yellow anyway. From now on, when I see anything of interest, you'd better believe it's going in my new best friend.

Now, this is the part where I complain about something (completely valid).

Look, girl who sits behind me in World Civ, I don't know where you get off being you. I'll start at the beginnnig of our relationship. Since I sit at the front of the forum style class room, I am not really aware of anyone else in the class because I keep eyes forward. Well, when we watched that film on Baghdad when it was the top city for education, that's when I first realized you existed. I was there, minding my own business, thinking to myself about how Western Europe was not as advanced in those days compared to the Middle East, when what should happen but I feel your fucking bare foot on my elbow! WHAT THE GODDAMN FUCK!!! Now, I may not have asked you to move it because there were others trying to take notes or whatever, but that doesn't mean I liked it. You had to know your foot was on me by the heat rising on my skin, because my goddamn blood was boiling. Eventually, you took your gross ass foot off me. I figured that would be the end. I figured wrong.

After that day, you somehow got a case of "Child On An Airplane" syndrome. There is not a Monday that goes by that I don't feel your constant kicking of the back of my chair. Again, I say nothing. I would really hope that you are old enough to understand that nobody in the entire world likes that shit.

While I'm complaining about you, let me add that I can hear every single wrong answer you say under your breath over and over until you are informed you are wrong. So far you are 0 for 94 for the semester. When you do this, I am so distracted from the lecture, that all I can think of is "Justifiable homicide." Here's you: "the clergy, the clergy, the clergy, the clergy (ad infinitum)." This is me, "Load my 9, cock my 9, BOOM!"

Today, this is what you did: The class had started. I am totally engaged in the lecture, because I love world civ. "BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH! I AM WALKING IN TOTALLY LATE TO THE LECTURE. EVENTHOUGH I KNOW THAT, I AM STILL GOING TO COME IN TALKING ON MY CELL PHONE USING THE HANDSFREE DEVICE! THAT WAY, I CAN BE LOUD AND LOOK LIKE I'M TALKING TO MYSELF AT THE SAME TIME! OH MY GOD! THE PROFESSOR JUST TOLD ME TO GET OFF THE PHONE BECAUSE THERE IS A LECTURE GOING ON! I'M GOING TO GIVE HER A DIRTY LOOK BECAUSE, HOW DARE SHE TELL ME TO GET OFF THE PHONE WHILE CLASS IS IN SESSION!"

And the thing that probably bothers me most about you is what you do on our fifteen minute break. I understand that maybe you have friends in the class you want to talk to. That's fine with me. I have better things to do than listen in on some asinine conversation anyway. But why do you have to rest your fat ugly ass on the neck part of my chair while I'm still seated in it?! Break is my chance to relax and put my head back for a minute... oh wait!... no I can't. I have I have some fucking 2 ton Christmas hams resting on the neck part of my chair. Ladies and gentlemen, I learned this the hard way. I leaned back into a pillow off ass. Let me ask you dumb girl, when you felt my head hit your ass, why didn't you move it? I was assigned to seat B23, not your ass. There's not enough room for the both of us (my head and your ass), one of us has to go. Judging by the answers you frequently mutter to yourself just loud enough for me to hear, I have a better grade than you (A, baby). Taking this all into consideration. I feel that the chair is mine. Maybe I'm crazy.

This next part goes to those two faux-anti-social girls who hang out all the time together during break (next to where I sit). You are the furthest thing from cool. I hear you discussing your rock trivia all the time. You don't know what in the fuck you are talking about. If you want to talk music, just stir me out of my kicking ass girl daze and I'll give you a lesson. I love how you think you are so incredibly cool, yet every single person in the class hates you. Here are a few things I overheard you saying today:

(The fat one with black hair): "I remember one time in high school when the teacher called me a bitch in front of the class. I was waiting for it. I had been trying to break her down, just because I think her job is too easy." Ok, little girl, that is incredibly fucked. You felt you had to break the spirit of someone who did absolutely nothing to you. You think a teacher's job is easy? You're 19 years old for Christ's sake. Have you ever tried to work a thankless job for a paltry salary and struggled to make ends meet? No you haven't. I don't even know you and I know you haven't. Out here in Orange County, the kids have it pretty fucking easy. I grew up on the poor side of San Jose. I remember everyday of my life what it's like to be poor. I know what it's like to only see my dad two or three times a week because he was working his ass of for us (my family). I know what it's like to this day to have not a single morsel of food in my cupboards. You're lack of a heart makes me doubt you have.

(The skinny one with the red hair): "I turned in my essay today (it was due last week). She (the professor) said that I can only get half credit on it even though I told her I was sick last week." Here's the deal, girl... you were there last week. How can a person lie to another straight-faced like that? Another thing, Ok, so you were sick, that report was assigned the very first day of class. You had fifteen weeks to turn it in. The best excuse you can muster after that was "I was sick on the final due date." Boo-fucking-hoo. I think If I were the professor, I would have told her right there that she gets a 0 on the paper. What an insult. I felt insulted for the professor. I think she'll give her the half credit anyway, but man... what a bitch! Little red head girl, I hope you enjoy your "Goth Day" at Disneyland. I hope you scare all those people you were hoping to scare. And then I hope a ride fucking derails when you are the only person on it (why should anyone else have to die?).

Enough of the angry talk. I like being happy much more. And let me tell you about the discovery I made today that made me very happy.

Ok, so I go to the grocery store to get myself my pocket notepad, contact lens cleaning solution and French bread (for my dinner salad). Boy howdy, let me tell you my elation when I discovered that the grocery story puts out fresh baked loaves at 4, 5 and 6pm everyday. That in itself was not what made me happy. What made me happy was that when I looked at my phone, I discovered that it was 4:06pm. You know what that means? Yep, fresh, warm fuckin' bread. I got on that shit. Plus the loaves were only 99 cents (on my pauper's budget, this means I am eating French bread a lot more). On a related note, there was no contact lens cleaning solution in the store.

Oh, my last gripe of the day. Max, you didn't call me at 4pm to remind me to buy my little pocket notebook. This could have resulted in disaster. Like, seriously. I am the type of person where once one thing goes awry, everything subsequently will follow it's lead. Although, having texted you pretty much served as my reminder. But, just so you know, Ruben forgetting one thing = total chaos. Imagine Pee-Wee's Rube Goldberg machine at the beginning of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. One missing part and there would have been no Mr. Breakfast for Pee-Wee to put Mr. T cereal on. This means, a fucked up movie. Don't be my missing pteradactyl, Max. I may never find my bike again.

I was planning on talking about moving water art and how much it makes me happy, but I've written far too much as is. It's sleepy time. Contact me sometime you piggly sonofabitch.

Ruben Balderas