First Kiss

My mum, her husband, my sis and I were watching Simpsons. It was that episode where Bart's class has to share the clasroom with the other second grade, which they knew nothing about. So Bart sits next to this girl who kind of reminds me of me in High School. So they start to hang out and skate, and one day, following his grandpa's advice, Bart kisses her. And she goes all "Eeeewwwwww Bart Simpson KISSED me! And now that'll be my first kiss FOREVER!" So they put this "No Touching" rule at school and they put posters on the walls that says "Coootiiieeesss!" or "Alaska Nebraska yadda yadda".

Anyway, my mum goes: "Why is the first kiss so important? I dont think it is, I dont even remember who was my first kiss." And I say that I of course remember my first kiss (it was only six years ago but I dont think Ill ever forget, not because it was good, nor bad, just because I know Ill remember, mainly because it was summer and there's not much going on during summer when you're a kid). Nobody asked, but my sister surely remembers because she is only thirteen and it was 2 years ago top, dont know if it was french kissing though. Does it count if its not french kissing? So my mum keeps saying: "I still dont get why is it such a big deal, its just a kiss...Honey (refering to her husband), do you remember your first kiss?" So my mum's husband starts saying the he was just a kid, he was 12 or 14, dont really remember right now. Maybe because I interrupted and said: "Aha! You know why is it so important? What did you just ask him? About his first kiss! You didnt ask him about the second, or the third, or any other kiss, you asked him about his first kiss! Touche."

And that's why its so important, because everybody asks about the first, and that's the story you'll be telling forever, you can tell about other memorable kisses, yes, but people wont ask you about it, you're going to tell people about it yourself. And you cant make-up some story about a first kiss 'cause thats just stupid, so you gotta take what you got. So, everybody, please stop asking about people's first times on anything, just ask about the best time on anything? Yeh, not so funny.

So if you're wondering, my first kiss was at the end of my 14th summer. Had this really nice summer in my neighborhood, where I still live because I love it and because Id hate to live alone or in the city or both. So I had this two girlfriends. We biked from our houses to a municipal sports club all summer and met some guys there and we were all friends and would hang out in the pool or around the place, and of course there was the prettiest guy there who afterwards went to my highschool where I didnt think he was that pretty. And we had this friend, who one of my friends and I liked, and he knew it. Everybody did. So he kinda had to choose. I wanted him to choose me because I hadn't kissed a boy my whole life and I kinda wanted to experience that once and for all. So it took a while, but I "won" and got my first french kiss. I didnt know what to do at first, I thought it was going to be standing, kinda savage cause we were surrounded by trees and all, but it wasnt. He told me to sit down and then we just kissed for a while and I remember thinking: "Is this it? Really? This is boring...When is this going to end?" And after around 5 minutes, it finished. And my first kiss was over and I was glad it was and glad I had dealt with it. That was the only time we kissed. He was my friend's boyfriend by fall, and I was glad he chose me in the summer because I did not want him as a boyfriend. I met him last year at the bust stop, he recognised me, I took a while before figuring out it was him, and since we live nearby talked for a while on the bus.

Summer is such a perfect time because we get to show skin, relax and lose a bit of control, which we can during winter, but water seems to control me, and by the beach or a pool, I find people better looking and nicer. Also, I feel joyful and happy and smiling and joking and wanting to do stuff al fresco all the time. Also I drink more. And the best thing is that you know when summer's over, you wont keep on seeing that crush or that boy you had something with, and its perfect, because both of you get the best of each other, not to be ruined by the crankyness and boredom and complications of daily life routine. Or maybe, you both want to keep "summering" so you are all fun during winter trying to keep summer alive. Never happened yet. Should try that.

Let Our Heroes Remain Untouched

Todos los que caminabamos periodicamente por las calles del centro de San Isidro conociamos, o habiamos visto al menos una vez al Oficial Garrido. Siempre en alguna esquina, frente a algun negocio, observando.

Un dia le parecio raro no ver a las chicas de un local y entro solo para encontrarse con una pareja (medio Pulp Fiction pero muchisimo menos cool) de la cual la mina, seguramente asustada, lo primero que hizo al darse vuelta y verlo fue pegarle tres tiros. Asi nomas.

Todo San Isidro sintio la muerte como no recuerdo ninguna otra. Misas, entierro, luto y moños negros por doquier. Se cambio el nombre de la calle Chacabuco por el de Aldo Garrido y la pequeña plazoleta que tiene el mastil ahora luce una nueva y reluciente placa en su honor, siendo llamada ahora Plazoleta Aldo Garrido.

San Isidro sintio dolor y orgullo por su nuevo heroe, su nuevo martir, el que murio protegiendonos, cumpliendo su deber. Quizas reaccion exagerada para algunos como por ejemplo para Graciela, quien envio un mail que contaba el caso de una entonces nueva optica a la cual habian robado tres veces, a la cual luego de haberle dicho que hablara con Garrido, no volvio a sucederle.

Bueno, el tipo aceptaba coimas, diganme quien en la policia no lo hace. Quien no hizo alguna vez algo por lo cual no merece los laureles? Acaso esta mujer no sabe que cuando alguien muere la memoria de la gente suele borrar aquello malo que hizo y entonces recuerda solo lo bueno o rie al recordar esas cosillas que quizas no deberia haber hecho? Mas aun tratandose de casos como este, que de Oficial paso a Capitan, no por que haya hecho algo que lo hacia merecedor de aquello, sino por morir de ESA manera, trabajando, en manos de una boluda que no tenia idea de lo que hacia.

Recordemos sino ese capitulo de Los Simpson en el cual Lisa descubre que Jebediah Springfield es en realidad un farsante pero prefiere callar para mantener la ilusion de la gente. Es como decirle a un niño de cuatro años que Papa Noel no existe.

All I'm saying is...People Need Heroes...