Growing up in Spanish Harlem.

Carlos Santana, "Maria"
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There was a point when Tammy gasped in the middle of Not Another Teen Movie when I realized that I made a mistake in putting it on during my get-together. It was the line where the character Aureola (the foreign exchange student) explained that she was solely meant to be object of lust for poor nerds who cannot get American pussy. Sorry, Tammy.

I woke up late the next day with no car and a promise that I was going to meet up with Stan at his house in Hollywood. By 2pm, when I had 3 hours to meet up with them, I decided to give TO Cab a call so that I could get a haircut. But when the dispatch announced that it would take an hour for a cab to be ready, I said screw that and hopped on my bike.

I made it all away to Westlake when I decided to just put my bike on a bus. By the time the bus got to Woodland Hills, I disembarked along with everyone else and hit up the Washington Mutual. With cash in hand for a night of clubbing I walked across the street behind this cute girl who seemed to be heading to the same bus stop as me and everyone else. We boarded, and lacking any seats, we stood next to each other. The whole time I really wanted to say something to her, but you know that I really lack that sort of suave-ness, so I did the only thing that makes me comfortable in any situation: I sang to myself. From Woodland Hills to Tarzana to Encino to Sherman Oaks and all the way to Universal City, I put the ism in "this is all just a defense mechanism". I hopped on the subway and ended up in Hollywood before Stan and all his friends.