Monday, March 11, 2013

Las Habladurías: The Director's Cut!

Sometimes blogs don’t live up to our expectations. Either due to time constraints or budget cuts it just doesn’t live up to the hype you had in mind for it. Such is the case of the last one. Let’s be honest it could have gone a lot better, so I’ve revisited it, and I present you with the last blog: The director’s cut! I’ve increased the swearing a whole lot and I added a new ending.

    This is a conversation that happened between me and a lady who lives in my building as she was in the elevator with me:

Her: You know you can throw that trash in the compactor on your floor you don't have to go all the way down to the fucking basement.
Me: Yeah, I know but I have fucking recycling too.
Her: Oh, your garbage stinks do you have fucking babies?
Me: No, a cat. A real fucking stinky cat.
Her: Okay, you have a nice fucking day.
Me: You too. Fuck

On its own this is a really dumb elevator conversation, but impressive in one. I was speaking English and she was speaking Spanish. I walked away feeling pretty good about myself. I was happy that people of all races creeds and languages can still communicate with Adam Sokol in a fluid and friendly matter. My friendly face transcends cultural and language barriers. But then again I don't speak Spanish.the conversation could have gone this way for all I know:

Her: hey asshole, you stink up this fucking elevator again I'm gonna throw you in the trash compactor.
Me: yeah, I know, but I have fucking recycling too.
Her: you stink, you stupid fucking baby
Me: I've got a cat. A real stinky fucking cat.
Her: go fuck yourself jerk who moved to the fucking neighborhood without knowing a lick of Spanish.
Me: you too. Fuck

I speak so little Spanish I don't even know if that's actually the language she was speaking to me. I just assumed because usually when people are talking and I don't know what they're saying they're usually speaking Spanish. I think. I only assume that's the language people are using when I don't understand them. I actually could live in an Armenian neighborhood for all I know. The only evidence I have that people are speaking Spanish is that there are a lot of empanada stands all over the place. Armenian people must love empanadas.

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