Chorus Boy Interrupted: Balloons and Baseball

Balloons and Puertorican mini flags line the baseball fields down at Riverside drive where teams of tiny screaming kids are about to have a little-little-really-little league game. They are squeaking and squealing like pigs in shit with excitement bursting out of their eyeballs and throats. The cuteness of such a sight on this sunny Tuesday tops the charts here in Spanish Harlem today. The freaky empanada carts are out throughout the summer and the mamcitas are cooking up something amazing on their self made grills down by the river front. It looks like a Dominican day parade down here by the water near my house and garbage has been discarded and piled up so high that it is truly unbelievable!

We are talking third world amounts of litter here. But aside from the littery aftermath the smells of supremely delicious weekend barbecue chicken makes my mouth water like a lion as I wait for Harley to destroy her fifteen dollar pink puppy Frisbee that Kong swears up and down is indestructible. They haven't met "my" little dog-toy-disintegrator yet! Trios of tiny Mexican guys harmonize and play guitars and accordions while singing hilariously rehearsed songs in Spanish. And there's always the designated amigo, the size of a small child, that walks around with his outstretched cowboy hat turned upside in hopes of scoring some loose change from our pockets and unthawing our New York hearts from last winter.

I'm trying to exhaust my dog before I go to work and this Harlem fiesta party crew is free to stay and do as much nothing as they can stand today. The tents and banners are up for this Latin circus of nightmares and it's a perfectly warm day for cheering and sipping lemonade and eating and drinking heavily. If only these people would consider picking up some of their trash i wouldn't be so bitter about their joy.

I'm available to take on the Brazilian approach to life where life is actually beautiful through all the bullshit. I seem to forget this simple fact basically every single day until one of the two hot Brazilian bartender boys I work with come into the bar singing something off key that I can't understand, freshly pumped and juicy from the Hell's Kitchen gym. A double cheek kiss and a whiff of sexy Molton Brown cologne (my favorite) and I'm instantly cured from all my New York City jade....well......until tomorrow.