What’s good in the hood, pedoros! It’s on and cracking in mine, homitos. Don francisco, the paletero, is fighting for the corner turf with don julio, the raspado man. Damn, ese, it’s a toss up, paletas or raspados? So last weekend, sanchito went on this date with a stripper right, oh and she also “goes to school.” Ha,ha, “going to school.” Yeah, okay, whatever you say, mija. Just show me how well you can slide down my pole, ha,ha,ha. “school,” that’s the famous stripper line, que no? It must tell them to say that in their “stripper manual.”
But let me tell you, vatos, baby was a straight cochina, and not the kind of cochina that we of the sancho nation like, ha,ha,ha, tu sabes. For dinner, homegirl orders a full rack of ribs. Damn, homes, those ribs never stood a chance! All that was left was a pile of clean bones for her to put through her nose like a cavewoman. Nothing even left to take home to my little perito chuchu. And during homegirl’s “de-boning” ritual of the ribs, she was getting it all over her mascara and underneath her fingernails and stuff.
After dinner and drinks, homes, we shot over to this little spot to do some bowling, because you know that Sanchito gets down on the lanes, right. We’re about an hour into it when baby decides to order some nachos, and please believe my chiquitos that she devoured those too, chip after chip after chip. Not even a break to breath, por favor, mija. And keep in mind that this girl is only about 110 lbs. Wet. It was like she hadn’t had a meal in days, homes! But the kicker was when she cleaned all of the extra pedo from her mouth with her hands and then wiped her hands on the front of her jeans. Orale, por favor!
A lesson to all of my young disciples: if the hina looks dirty, and if she acts dirty, then, pollitos, the hina is dirty! Just imagine what “it” would have smelled like? Yuck! I pulled the old 52 fake on “la sucia,” and told her to look left and i was gone to the right, homitos, and never looked back! Well, that was that; now let’s see what drama is out there.
Jimmy from New Jersey writes: Yo, S-man, what’s the word, baby? I just finished reading your book “Sanchito’s Way” and I have to say that I agree with everything in there except the part about waiting five days to call a girl after you get her number, and also not calling her on that Friday, Saturday or Sunday. I think that’s too long and wrong.
Yo, Jimbo, the word is “tapado.” Go look it up. The reason why you think five days is too long is because you’re just like every other tapado and probably calls within the first three days, right? Well, i give baby girl two extra days to marinate before i put on my “big game hunting jacket,” because I’m a “G” like that and that’s the way Sanchito handles his. And, vato, if you call on a Friday, Saturday or Sunday, she’s going to assume that you’re not important enough to already have existing plans in place, and she’s going to automatically put you in the back seat of the ranfla, homeboy. Do me a favor, Jimbo, don’t think, it’s embarrassing, vato.
Patricia from North Carolina writes: Hey, Sancho, ever since my boyfriend has been reading your books and listening to your tapes our relationship has gone downhill. All of the sudden, he started using these new words and acting different and i don’t like it. I want my old Steven back, not this “new” guy who thinks he’s god’s gift to women now.
Patty, mija, don’t hate the player, hate the game. You should be proud that now you have a man with a pair of marbles that aren’t in your purse all the time, que no? Mira, patty, just step up your game a little bit, girl. Go out and get my book for you ladies to read called “The Head Clinic,” and put it into action. You’ll be on a level playing field in no time at all.
Get At Me With Your Drama, Pedoros: firstname.lastname@example.org