Mexican Ghost Story

This is a true story. It happened in Pecos New Mexico , and even though it sounds like an Alfred Hitchcock tale, it's absolutely true: This guy was on the side of the road hitch hiking on a very dark and stormy night. The night was cold and wet and no cars went by. The storm was so strong; he could hardly see a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly, he saw a car coming towards him and stop. The guy, without thinking about it, got in the car, closed the door, and only then realized that there was nobody behind the wheel! The car starts going again, very slowly. The guy looks at the road and sees a curve coming his way. Scared, he starts to pray and begs for his life. Just before the car hits the curve, a hand appears through the window and turns the wheel. The guy, paralyzed in terror, watched how the hand appeared each time the car approached a curve. Gathering his strength, he gets out of the car and runs all the way to the nearest town. Wet and in shock, he goes into a cantina, asks for two shots of tequila and starts telling everybody about the horrible experience he just went through. A silence enveloped everyone when they realized the guy was crying hysterically and wasn't drunk. About a half hour later, two other guys walk into the same cantina and one said to the other, "Hey, Pedro. That's the Pendejo that got in the car while we were pushing.

T. T. T. 1A

It was the first day of school for the kindergarten class. As the teacher walked in the classroom, she noticed something was written on the

chalkboard: T. T. T. 1A. She looked at the children and said, "Who wrote this?" Little Keith raises his hand. "Well, what does that mean, Keith?"

asked the teacher. "It means, 'To The Teacher 1 Apple,'" and with that, he gave the teacher an apple. "Very good," says the teacher," Thank You." The next morning, the teacher walks in the classroom, and this time the chalkboard reads: T. T. T. 1O . She asked the children, "Who wrote this?"

Then little Bobby answers,"I did, teacher." "Well, Bobby, what does that mean?" Bobby says, "It means, 'To The Teacher 1 Orange,'" and he gives the teacher an orange. "Very nice, Bobby, thank you", said the teacher.

The next morning, she walks in the classroom, and she noticed on the board: F. U. C. K. 1 T. Flabbergasted, the teacher exclaimed, "WHO WROTE THIS!!" Then little Pepito raises his hand and says, "I did," Angrily, the teacher asks, "Well, what does this mean, Pepito?" "It means, 'From Us Chicano Kids 1 Taco.'"

Know where you're going in life... you may already be there.

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

"Not very long," answered the Mexican.

"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.

The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs . . I have a full life."

The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

And after that?" asked the Mexican.

With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."

"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.

"And after that?"

"Afterwards? Well my Friend, That's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"

"Millions? Really? And after that?" said the Mexican.

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."

And the moral is: Know where you're going in life... you may already be there.

Try out your Spanglish

A Mexican lady was walking along the bank of the L.A. River when she stumbled upon an old empty cerveza bottle. She picked it up, rubbed it and SNAP!!! a Genie appeared. She talked with him for a while then the Genie told her he would grant her ONE wish.

She said to the Genie, "I heard from mi prima that I could get three wishes if I ever found a Genie." The Genie then said, "Oh no, sorry, esa! Three-wish Genies are a story-tale myth. I'm a ONE-WISH Genie, Uno, no mas! So...que quieres?"

The lady didn't hestitate. She said, "I want peace in the Middle East. See this map? I want these countries to stop fighting with each other and for everyone to love each other. It would bring world peace and harmony."

The Genie looked at the map and exclaimed, "Orale! BE REASONABLE! Those fools have a pedo that goes back thousands of years, chale! I'm out of shape after being in that bottle for five hundred years. I'm good, but NOT THAT GOOD!!! I don't think it can be done. PLEASE, make another wish and be reasonable."

The lady thought for a minute and said, "Well, I've never been able to find the right man. I want a Mexican boyfriend...you know, one that DOESN'T DRINK ALCOHOL, nice y fun, likes cumbias, and helps with cleaning la casa. I want him to be great in bed and gets along con mi familia, and is FAITHFUL and doesn't throw chingazos at me. That's what I wish for....a good Mexican man!"

The Genie let out a long sigh, shook his cabeza and said, "Chingada vieja!!!.....let me see that pinchi map again."

My name is Brown, B - R - O - W - N

Then there was the cracker who walked into a chicano bar and shouted, "My name is Brown, B - R - O - W - N, and I'm white from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet, and I hate all n***ers!"

The raza mumbled and shifted their feet, but Brown obviously suffered from a mental defect so they sipped their birongas and kept to their own business.

The cracker shouted again, "My name is Brown, B - R - O - W - N, and I'm white from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet, and I hate all Jews!"

A couple of the drinkers, marranos perhaps, gave the man a dirty look but figured it would be no mitzvah to kick his ass, so they sipped their birongas and kept to their own business.

The cracker shouted again, "My name is Brown, B - R - O - W - N, and I'm white from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet, and I hate all you f*cking greasers!"

At this, Huero, mild-mannered Huero, put his beer on the table and stood up and shouted, "My name is Huero Gonzales, G - O - N - Z - A - L - E - S, and I'm white from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet, except for my asshole, which is brown, B - R - O - W - N."