Hey, little house mouse. You’ve been running around my apartment for a couple of months, maybe longer.
I was sitting on the couch the first time I saw you, and you quickly scurried away. A few days later, I noticed you under the spare motorcycle tire I keep in what passes for a closet in New York City, but that time you only hid from sight.
The third time you came out of the kitchen, stopped in front of the bookcase, and stood up. Suddenly, you were very confident. You knew I wasn’t going to chase after you because 1) I didn’t do so the first two times I saw you and 2) in plain sight, staring directly at me, you started eating whatever you were holding in your tiny paws (Legs?).
With your beady eyes, you came to an important conclusion: “That lazy motherfucker never chases after me, so why do I exhaust myself trying to hide from him? I’ll just eat this here. Plus it’s not like I’m stealing because I got this from the trash bin. He wasn’t going to eat this.”
When I was a teenager, I used to kill rats in my uncle’s stable. They were big, aggressive, chubby rodents who used to feed off the special race horse food. Two of my uncle’s workers and I used to make cruel game out of it: whomever killed the most rats, either with a rake or any other garden tool, would get to use my uncle’s pellet rifle exclusively for a week.
But I’m not that person anymore, little house mouse. Plus, in this cruel city, we’re all looking for ways to survive, right? I still respect that. Though I know you may decide to bring a bunch of your little friends and infest the entire building — especially because of my lax attitude — but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.
The other day, when my girlfriend brought home four slices of pizza, two of which had pepperoni, I asked her to leave a single ring of sausage in the box.
That was for you, house mouse.
But she hates you, so she left nothing. I swear my girlfriend is a very considerate person, but she’s not the only one who feels no sympathy for your furry little head. This week my roommate caught you wandering inside his room, and he doesn’t take kindly to strangers.
Now there’s traps all over the apartment, so I want to warn you: he put peanut butter inside them. I hope you hate nuts, but you probably don’t.
If you get caught, I want to be the one to take your body out. I’ll put you inside a box with a full pie of pepperoni pizza.
I owe you that much, little house mouse.
María Rubio was so good as Catalina Creel, an iconic telenovela villain, the role ruined her career
According to sources on Twitter, and also TvNotas, the holy bible of Mexican gossip, María Rubio, the legendary actress best known for her role as Catalina Creel de Larios in Cuna de lobos, has passed away. She was 83 years old.
Thanks to her role as Soraya Montenegro in María la del Barrio, Itati Cantoral has been dominating the internet with an insane amount of memes, gifs, and even a House of Cards promo special. Itati blew up in the mid ’90s, when older millennials were still teens, and she’s that generation’s go-to character when it comes to Mexican telenovela villains.
Yes, Cantoral was great as Soraya, but the top dog in the telenovela villain game was — and has always been — María Rubio. The Tijuana-born actress was so good in Cuna de lobos that, according to an interview she did with Cristina Saralegui, the role ruined her career:
“[Catalina Creel] was a difficult, beloved character. I enjoyed playing her, but she also hurt me a lot. People completely forgot about María Rubio and now it seems that, after 40 years of being an actress, I’ve only done Catalina Creel.”
Catalina, a murderous matriarch, was known for having some of the best one-liners in telenovela history. But in the same interview with Saralegui, which was filmed over 20 years ago, María proved to be just as cunning and smart as her infamous character, but also incredibly funny:
“[Although I played a villain], I’ve received nothing but compliments, love, and admiration. Never aggression. I think viewers do attack the bad ones — bad actresses, that is.”
If you understand Spanish, check out the hilarious interview below. Watch María viciously own everyone in a panel of full of young telenovela villains:
Traumatic advice from aunt Rosa: “Don’t torture your Care Bear, Mijo. Or else.”
I was 6 years old when I yelled at Tugs, my Care Bear. I put him in time-out for not agreeing to the rules of an imaginary game I had just created.
I built a little time-out fortress for him to stay in while I played with my other toys. Coincidentally my tía Rosa was visiting that day. I urged her to see all my toys when she came into the house. I also explained to her that Tugs was in time-out, to which she replied in shock, “Mijo, mira, You have to be nice to your toys.”
I replied, “Tía, I am nice to my toys, but I’m teaching him a lesson.”
She contested nervously, “No, Mijo, you have to be nice to your toys or they might not be nice to you.”
I wasn’t following her logic.
“Mijo, if you’re not nice to your toys, then at night time they might wake up and crawl into your bed to cut your toes with tiny razors,” she said slowly while staring at my imprisoned Care Bear.
“What?!” I whispered to her while looking at Tugs from the corner of my eye.
“Yes, your toys might do very bad things to you if you don’t treat them good.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
She stood up and walked towards the doorway.
“Mijo, I brought you some tortillas. Come in the kitchen and let’s warm them up,” Rosa said casually.
From then on, Tugs sat on a tufted pillow on my dresser while I slept in velcro shoes for the next year. Growing up in my Mexican-American family meant that everything was possibly alive and watching you.