New York City is a magical place where the stiffing rules of the American suburbs do not apply. For example, New Yorkers don’t brag about getting married. If anything, they mention it in passing and with a bit of shame: “I had to marry João because otherwise he was gonna be deported. I love him, yes, but I’m still getting divorced once his green card arrives because fuck the patriarchy, you know? Anyway. Let’s get bagels.”
People here can live their entire adult lives as big children and never be shamed for it. It’s great until somebody talks to their parents: “Ugh, my mom called me last night and she kelp talking excitedly about Mary, our neighbor, and how she got knock up by some guy who works at Auto Zone. It was so gross, just like this stinky lox. I should have asked for hummus instead.”
When New Yorkers have scary brushes with suburban life, brunch reunions quickly turn into baby and marriage-bashing discussions. These conversations can be especially gruesome if they’re being had by thirty-somethings. It’s their last chance to turn back, the end of their Rumspringa: “Sandy, you’re not Janet Jackson; you either pop out João’s child now and move back to Virginia with your parents, or you divorce his ass, get an abortion, and relocate your jewelry studio to Bay Ridge. I mean, you can’t have your scallion cream cheese spread and eat it, too.”
Some get cold feet and return from whence they came. They’re only heard from again in loud, distorted, and shaky Instagram videos which are usually filmed in strip malls, backyard birthday parties, or high school football games.
The ones who brave the fray continue down their their bitter, righteous paths: “Sandy is SO lame, Janice. But I knew she was gonna move back because she never even finished The Second Sex. She’s probably fawning over tract housing as we speak — oh, just like I’m fanning over this pumpernickel everything and whitefish salad. Hold my cold brew.”
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.