brenda arellano, guest blogger to the stars. mexico city edition

[Today’s entry is written by one of the funniest, gorgeous women I know, Brenda Arellano.
We know each other from Portland, but she lives in Chicago now. The two of us decided to meet in Mexico City for the weekend. Hilarity ensued.]
Without further ado…
I think there certainly is an uncontrollable awesomeness in getting to guest star on Lolo´s blog. And our bitchin’ weekend in the smog infested streets of ´la cuidad´ can certainly attest to magic that is hanging out with her.
So good that we´re just gonna have to highlights of our time there:
¨What´d you do in DF [this is what Mexico City is called by us locals], Brenda?¨ Well, we started off by going to this hip and hidden little gallery called Kurimanzutto. The exhibit was a little sparse, but we were inspired by the space to do a little artistic triptych of our own.
Lauren is looking for clothes (People, I suggest stuffing a couple pairs of shorts in a bottle and tossing them into the Pacific, it´s sure to reach her in a more timely manner than using Mexico´s postal service. Just saying.) so we asked the hip little cutie manning the gallery. She pointed us in the direction of a mall a little out of the way. I suggested a shortcut through Chapultepec forest. And by shortcut, I mean DEATH MARCH. I got us totally lost, we were attacked by teeny bubbles that stuck to our clothes (for real), and a herd of squirrels.
We ended up in some bougie part of town. When we finally got to the damn mall, it was filled with stores you can find in the states or boutiques with teeny clothes that could not contain her luscious boo-tay.
I don´t know who the Mexicans think they´re crappin´. Everyone knows Latinas have the curves that just won´t quit.
¨What´d you do in Mexico City, Lolo?¨ ¨Rode a mothafuckin´boat, since I apparently can´t get enough of them!¨ OK, that´s not what she said. And technically, they´re gondolas. [Technically, the conversation went a little like this: “Lauren, Ok, I know we’re going to be on a boat, but you just can’t walk on and take over and be the fucking captain. I mean it! No mutiny!!”]
We went to Xochimilco, which is famous for it´s lovely trajineras that can fit your whole posse and if not, you can just get another one. So the next time someone suggests Dave and Barry´s or Chuck E Cheese, tell them to fuck off and head to this lovely network of canals.
I mean, for Cristo´s sake, you can drink giant cups of micheladas (beer, lime juice, chile or salt),
have a delicous meal of mole enchiladas, and take pictures of creepy dolls
and fat men taking their siesta wherever the fuck they want to.
After that lovely ride, a magical glue sniffing elf pointed us in the direction of a classic pulqueria. Pulque is this fermented cactus drink that´s kinda suppose to get you drunk, unless you´re Lauren, in which case you just get gassy. They come in various flavors and colors, like oatmeal and fuschia. We knocked back a couple celery flavored pulques, fended off advances from this gentleman and his monkey wrench,
and took pictures of the local art, including this lovely interpretation of the Simpsons, which I believed was featured in their ´Mexico Lindo¨special.
Later on, we headed to the Zocalo, where pornographic ´cream´ filled churros are abundant.
Yeah, like you wouldn´t do the same. We also must´ve looked muy turistico, because some lady with her fake baby conned us out of ten pesos. Bitch! Well, I was full on taken, but Lauren realized we were being had as she forked over five pesos. Quick thinking, chica.
And really, the Zocola, which is a beautiful historical area during the day. turns quite sketchy at night. Some old bum eyed us as we walked down the sidewalk, and quickly pulled out… A COOKIE! Holy shit, we almost got hit by a cookie! The old man laughed maniacally and then pissed himself or did whatever bums do when amused. You win this round, old man.
We missed out on the nightlife (Sunday night in Mexico City=snoozeville), which was totally okay, because we discovered we had the whole damn hostel to ourselves! No one, not even a security guard. We got ourselves all nice and situated with some limon flavored chips and tequila and proceeded to run amok:
I´d say it was our best night in DF, right Lauren? We went to the rooftop, talked some heavy stuff, and listened to songs that stirred our soul.
Then we went back and jumped on some beds and some pretty ridiculous pictures, which she may or may not post here;) I have to say, Lauren and I can entertain ourselves quite nicely. [All other pics are locked int eh vault. i’ll just tell you that the last one we took that night was this]
The next day was kinda shitty. We thought we would check out the palace of fine arts. We entered the gorgeous, grand lobby…and found out it was closed because it was a Monday. DAMMMNNN YOU MONDAAAYS! We only got a tantalizing look at the murals and an exhibit by this artist named Pedro Friedeberg. Pedro Friedeberg?! What the hell is that kinda name? I don´t know but I´m gonna try to learn everything about this Escher-on-acid artist. Plus! We had to part ways. As much as we tried, neither of us fit in each other´s pockets, so I hung my head and headed to Veracruz.
Lauren was a little bummed too, but she has hunky surfers to console her, whereas I have… um, I guess a polyester peacock bedspread to snuggle up to.

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