I take the last post back.

Fuck that noise. After having gone to Santa's Enchanted Forest this evening with Michelle, and having had a blast there (but I'll be sore tomorrow from the rides) I have this to say to the population of Miami:

What the fuck makes you so fucking special that you don't have to stand in line and can cut in front of everyone else in line?

I'll be posting on that later.

There will be both reggaeton references, and digs on your cheap, awful jeans, and how you'll be changing my oil next weekend...

For you up North, it makes the Po'White Trash at King's Dominion seem well-mannered. Nuts, huh?!

Cada dia me pongo un poquito mas Cubano...

I'm noticing that I'm turning, little by little... Cuban.

No me sorpresa, I mean, I work in an office en donde I'm the only Gringo, but everything, from the way I think, to the way I hear myself speak, to what I eat, to what I'm listening to...

I'm starting to see a change.

And I suppose it's not an awful thing, but when I'm shopping for old Perez Prado songs... it gives one pause.

I hear it when I speak to my secretary, "Oye, what's going on with..." or how she'll ask me something and I spit back an answer back in Spanish... or how my boss will come up to me and say something like, "Oye, with the XXX case, call opposing counsel y preguntarle si we can work something out, o algo asi."

I order churrasco de pollo or chiccarones de pollo for lunch, and I like my Gallo Pinto. If I weren't dieting, I'd be eating vaca frita or carne con papa.

I guess I'm assimilating little by little into the dominant culture, but I'm actually getting nervous that the "Miami Accent" is creeping, little by little into my speech.

So. If you hear my starting to clip my "l" sounds or elongate my "a" sounds (in a way that's not Wisconsiny, because I've retained that, unfortunately) or if I'm saying, "COOOONO!" too often, please let me know.

Gracias.