almost okay

DID YOU KNOW THAT VENEZUELA IS PARADISE AT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE? WELL, IT IS.

So it's Saturday afternoon and I had just finished mowing the lawn. The day's first can of Blue had just been popped and I was flicking through all eight of the broadcast channels that I'm able to pick up on the rabbit ears in my basement, while taking a much-needed break from my onerous weekend chores. There was a pan of tomato sauce in the fridge that I'd made Thursday night and the next thing on my list was to boil water for spaghetti so I'd have something to pour the sauce over for dinner. Before I could cross that one off though, I needed a little sitting down time, some relaxation time, some beer time if you know what I mean.

As I thumbed the button on the remote past UNIVISION the screen filled with beautiful brunette, so I stopped. How lucky could I get? I had stumbled across a taped rebroadcast of the Miss Venezuela contest from the week before, right at the beginning of the swimsuit competition no less. My jaw dropped as the contestants paraded by smiling and showing off brown legs and boobs, some strutting like high fashion models on a runway, some slow-rolling their hips and swaying as though dancing to music, each girl more beautiful and sexy than the one before.

Since I can only speak enough Espanol to order a cerveza or get my fachada slapped, I wasn't able to understand everything they were saying, but it didn't matter. I got the gist of it and let out an audible 'Ay Caramba!' or two just to try and get into the spirit of the affair. I think I even crossed myself at one point, looked to the ceiling to thank God. I popped open a bag of jalapeno flavored kettle chips and grabbed Blue number two, pretending it was a Tecate with lime. Caliente!

As the competition unfolded, I continued to be mesmerized by the colorful designs on the one piece suits, transfixed by the lips and hips, the smiling eyes of the gorgeous women, hypnotized by the rhythm of their movements as they crossed the stage in toe-revealing high heels. For twenty-five minutes I was in Heaven. Once it got past the swimsuit competition, though, I have to admit that I started losing interest. The next phase, of course, involves actually talking to the girls, who were wearing flesh-smothering evening gowns by then, and I have to tell you that this is the exact point I lose interest in any beauty pageant, regardless of whether I can understand what they're saying or not. Most of the girls who compete in these things aren't really all that bright. You all heard that idiotic, rambling answer from South Carolina during the Miss Teen USA competition, right? Well, if you didn't, you can check it out on You Tube. It may make you laugh (because you're a heartless bastard), but when I see it I cringe with embarrassment for the poor girl.

Anyway, I switched the channels just in time to see a classic Soul Train dance line brought to me by McDonald's. Bah da bah bah baahhh, I was lovin' it!

Back to Miss Venezuela, though... My favorite didn't win, but the girl who did - Dayana Mendoza, was just as gorgeous. I'm not sure how this all fits into the Miss Universe Pageant, or if it even does. All I know for sure is this: If the universe suddenly just consisted of Venezuela and I had to move there tomorrow, there'd still be more than enough beautiful, sexy women for me. And during the course of practicing my Espanol on the ladies down there, I'd more than likely get my fachada slapped.

A lot.