I was at a Chente concert...

Mmmmm.
Yesterday.
Good day.

This morning... not so much.

Yesterday, the pregaming began as I played board/card games with a couple of white folks (I say that lovingly... mainly because as a Mexican, boardgames are just... so not... popular. We do other shit... like drink and get pregnant. I'm glad I have "white" friends to show me the ways of this country... right?).
How'd that go? Fun and snack-tastic. I blew my morning's heavy leg workout after snacking on the nachos and fresh, giant chocolate chip cookies at the cardgame spectacular. Was it worth it? Ummm... I'm on the fence with that one... since I think nachos are a waste of tummy space with zero nutritional value... or flavor. The cookie... I would have eaten another two had I not guilt-tripped myself about the goddamn nachos. Fucking nachos. Maldita basura!

After that fun-packed afternoon, a drunken display of Mexican pride ensued.
How so?
I went to go see the icon of Mexican music. The man, the myth, the legend: Vicente Fernandez.
Knowing I was going to deal with the entire Mexican population of the city of Las Vegas, I had to do something to prep: Drink.
Trick to Chente concerts is to pregame shit before arriving to the venue. Makes it a little less painful.

Sis and I took a tequila-filled water bottle, braved the stupid ass traffic in the parking garage... and once parked, swigged the fuck out of the bottle.
Good thing.
I'd like to take this moment to apologize for... my people.
GOD!
What these eyes saw...
This is what people associate when the word "Mexican" is dropped... Lord, have mercy!
People were fighting for about an hour near my seats... all because motherfuckers don't understand NUMBERS.
Dyscalculia is this prevalent amongst Mexicans? I'm definitely not gonna breed with them, then. Shit, my kids would be fucked.
About 90 percent of the girls present were in tight miniskirts/dresses... which, I mean... can be OK under certain circumstances... and when you have a smoking bod...
... but not when you're a 45 year old mother of three. COME ON, LADIES! WHAT THE FUCK?!
About 60 percent of the girls in miniskirts looked like streetwalkers... the other ones looked like simple floozies. The streetwalkers were identifiable based on their hairstyle and choice in makeup... sometimes their shoes.
I started feeling bad after the 100th girl I saw in this attire. I became self-conscious because I was wearing dark jeans, black TOMS, a black button-down shirt (showed off my cleavage... which made me feel somewhat Latina when I walked out of the house... but not once I stepped foot in the Mandalay Bay), and a black track jacket. Peer pressure was getting the best of me.
Oh no... I stick out more than the whore-y girls because I'm dressed like I'm going to catch a basketball game... Fuck... should I... umm... unfasten the top button on my shirt... maybe?
I decided to TRY and be a little... BAM! out there, so I took off my jacket and pulled down my shirt a little.
There. See. Yeah. I'm a Mexican girl. Enough? Cool. Now quit staring at me as if I were an alien. Look at the chick over there in the leopard print minidress and seven inch metallic heels.

Aside from having to deal with people... which we all know I'm terrific at... I had a blast.
I took videos of some of the songs... which I did think about posting, however, Mom's screaming in ALL of them, so they're a no. And yes, I'm screaming in some of them... which is extremely embarrassing, but DAMN, those songs just know how to cut me deep.
Aca entre nos, siempre te voy a recordaaaaaar!

Also, a magical moment I had was while making line for the metal detector at the concert.
There were some big screen televisions on the side of the building... I think it was a bar, but considering the mass of sombrero-rockin' Mexicans blocking the entrance, it could have been anything.
Anyway, at one point I turned and saw the majority of people in line were watching the game that was being played.
What game? The UNLV vs. UNC basketball game.
I believe it was at the point where the score was 82 Rebs, 72 Tar Heels... and everyone in line started chanting "RE-BELS!"
My heart filled with joy... who cared if so many of these short, obnoxious, drunk men were staring down my shirt... we were all rooting for the Rebels!

Ah... t'was a great day/night... even if at some point we lost part of my sister's car... and then I woke up unable to speak for a few hours.

RE-BELLLLLLLLLLLLS!

Sweet, sweet music

Holy moly.

I'm so sore.
So freaking... sore.
And deaf.
And tired.

Was it all worth it?

Hell fucking yeah!

However, if I were asked

Yo, AnoMALIE, who would you rather hang out with, a bunch of fresas or nacos?

I will hands down scream back "Nacosssss!!"

I hate snobs... and Mexican snobs take it to a whole new level.
They're downright intolerable.
Their fake ass accent, their constant, purposely-made spelling errors (I swear, I see another bastard write with a K in place of a Q, I'm gonna shank a bitch!), their putting down of people from other MEXICAN STATES.
Motherfuckers... you're still Mexican, understand, anyone who makes fun of Mexicans is still making fun of YOU. You're included in that put down... even if you are from Mexico City... it's still in Mexico... and it's probably dirtier than any place in Durango because so much fucking criminality rules the g.damn streets there.
Shut the fuck up already and quit ruining my concert experience.

The worst part came when on the screens where people can text in their messages, someone put:
"Y arriba Durango!"
And the crowd booed.
I really wanted to spit in people's faces when I saw that.

While I adore the music I listen to... a lot of the people who supposedly "listen" are a bunch of fucks.
I hate them.
I don't know if people in the states will ever experience anything similar... because I don't really see such a pronounced "class" system in play here.

Anyway, on with the concert.
So, there were a ton of people... but we were in our group of seventeen 19-24 year olds... all from Durango (much to the dismay of the bastard fresas from Mexico city).
We befriended a couple of Chilangos while we made line (that went all throughout the casino... it was a nasty mess).
The dudes asked where we were from.
We said Vegas.
They said "No, I mean, your roots."

Oh... we're all from Durango.

What was their response?

Really? Damn, you guys are so light-skinned. Parecen Gringas.

Us: Umm... well, we were born in Vegas... all of us... our parents are from Durango... we just visit the place every summer... so technically, we are gringas.

So here we had a group of "fresas" surprised that we came from such a... "hick" state in Mexico... as if people from Durango are still running around with bows and arrows, warpaint on their faces, dark as hell from being in the sun all day. They act like people outside of Mexico City can't go out and get an education (I say that because it surprised the hell out of these guys when all the females in my group informed them we were all in college. Three of us in a science field. Were any of their "high class" asses in college? Nope. Not one. Hence why I think the class system with Mexicans is a bunch of bullshit).

Anyway, one guy in particular from this group I couldn't shake off all night.
I thought I was safe when he left my side to go get a drink... but no... he came back and stood directly in front of me, in front of the railing I was standing against.
He kept asking question... so many fucking questions.
It got to the point where I started giving him my family's genealogy... and we took it way back to when my family was still Spanish (three generations ago).

He constantly brought up the fact that he was surprised so many pretty girls came from the state of Durango, how he was surprised that we had light complexions (racism? I think so. He doesn't know I'm light because I don't see the sun), and how great it was to see we didn't all have the "naco accent people from that part have, no offense."
Frustrating.

You know what was more frustrating?? How he'd constantly hold my hand throughout the night.

People from Durango are nacos? Give me a break, fool! Can I have my hand back??

I'd be too into the musical act to get too rude on him... I'd just pull my hands back, without making any sort of eye contact, and I'd kick once in a while (I'd be damned if he was going to touch any other part of my body).
I ended up sneaking out during one of my favorite songs from the last band (Enanitos Verdes) without saying a word to him (after promising I'd give him my cell number--I made the fatal mistake of whipping out my cell phone during an interlude while in his presence-- after Enanitos were done).

However, I wasn't the one who had it worst out of the chicks... nope, not by a long shot.
Eveyone else got harassed worse than I did... except for the one girl who went with her boyfriend.
My little sister, for instance, had this one weirdo that was about 38 push his crotch into her butt as she was bent over on the railing trying to rest her feet.
That even pissed me off, making me scream "What the fuck is your problem, pendejo?!" while pushing on him (he was a few inches shorter than me, so I wasn't scared about pushing the jerk away).

Many more things along those lines occured from 7-1:30 AM, so it's unnecessary to get in to all the details.
There were also a lot of people we bumped into that we're semi-related to... but we tried our hardest to ignore (because really, do you want some person talking to you about "We don't see each other enough! We should really get together and do something!" while you're trying to scream your heart out to the first time Hombres G sings "Te Quiero" in Las Vegas in their 25 year career? Hell no. Hell fucking no! Shut the fuck up, and let me enjoy this!).

Anyway... I'd definitely do this again.
For sure.

Nice AnoMALIE

My cousin, while not one of the brightest pregnant girls in the universe (after about the seventh baby outfit she opened up during her baby shower, she exasperatedly said "Why do all these clothes come with a bib?!!?" Not only that, but she's also having the kid with a deadbeat lame ass, and I think that's one of the dumbest things a girl can do), is probably one of the prettiest.

Awww... I'm so nice today. No rants or anything.

I'm in a fantastic mood because today I get to go to one of the best concerts ever!

Enanitos Verdes, Aleks Syntek, La Quinta Estacion, and Hombres G!

All in one place... playing the same concert.
Man... I type that and I can already feel myself screaming.

What's best about this?
I don't have a crush on a single one of the band members in any of the bands, so I'm really in it this time for the music.
God, I'm such an adult now.

What does suck (ok, so I do have to rant just a little) is that they chose The Joint as the venue.
I despise that place.
I lose five days of my life just standing in all that damn cigarette smoke.
I also come out of there traumatized for a couple of days because people are so damn touchy-feely there.
I'll never forget that damn breast "massage." Maybe if the masseuse would have been just that one dude... but when a chick also rubs up on my chest... well... that's just a little too much.