Talking Shit

¿Que Pasa, M.I.A.? ¡Time For Lent!

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Catholicos, it's Lent time! Cuaresma, baby! Time for to behave really good. Time to make up for all the sinning and loving ladies and inappropriate gyrating. Time for me to undo the damage of having become a Cuban-American Idol.

In Catholic school I was told to give up something during the 40 days of Lent. Kids were giving up candy, chewing gum, and playing with He-Man toys. I'd usually give up things that were easy to let go. No G.I. Joes. No Watchamacalits. No frituras de bacalao. Easy stuff. Child's play.

(There was also the unspoken Lenten tradition of eating Filet-O-Fish on Fridays.)

But, in complete agreement with popular belief, I am no saint; the simple fact that I exhaunt myself to idol status and am worshipped by dozens makes me a chronic sinner. Confession is great, I sit down and tell the priest things like, "I made a girl sad on stage when she tried to touch my private area and I stopped her, but, really, I was asking for it, because of the way I was moving."

After taking my penance and minimal introspection, I walk out of the chapel feeling like a new man. This feeling of grace is momentary. I am destined to repeat my sins. I feel little to no remorse when, hours later, I'm sweating shirtless on stage with the ladies.

I used to make up things at confession, tell the priest stuff like, "I am always fighting with best friend and hitting him and calling him names." I don't know why. I guess to look cool for the priest.
In eighth grade, outside of Lent, I made a serious sacrifice. I made a promise to God and Jesus and all the saints, that I would not look at pictures of ladies naked. Actually, it wasn't really a sacrifice as much as a negotiation. The agreement was, "Jesucristo, if I don't look at the books with the boobies, you'll make sure I have a date to the eighth grade dance." He granted my wish, with ironic and embarrassing results.
As I was slow dancing with the young lady, I became obviously excited. In my pants. The school photographer captured it, and the yearbook made it public. ¡Que pena!

This year I won't barter with the Catholic Church, nor will I give up silly things that I won't miss. Even though it is tempting to "give up" wearing brown or eating boiled goose, I know that Lent officials will question my commitment to the faith. This Lent, I've got an airtight sacrifice in mind, one I will keep and will certainly give me V.I.P. seating in heaven.

I vow, that for the 40 days of Lent I will no longer use my sexual powers to benefit myself. I will use my dripping sexuality as a tool to benefit the needy, the underprivileged, and the hungry. It's the least I can do. So, please note:If you see me shirtless, sweaty and surrounded by sexy ladies, I am doing this for the kids, not for me.

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Jose el Rey