mexicans are hot

It's 7 a.m. and I'm waiting to board my plane to mexico city at the houston airport. Its early, I'm wearing the same shirt I wear everytime I travel (a child's fruit o' the loom white v-neck tee with, seriously, pit stains from hell...I don't know! Call it superstition, I just cannot travel without it.), my face sucks, my hair sucks, and I don't even want to talk about my disposition.

Ok I lied; I totally want to talk about it (duh). I got up at 4:40 this morning to the heavenly glow of the glorious FLOURESCENT lights my dad has newly installed in 'my bedroom' [read: the trophy room]. He thought it was only fair that since my alarm had woken him up unpleasantly that he should only return the favor by throwing on the lights and yelling at me that I should learn how to 'arise silently'. Really? Really dad? Because I recall having been asked about 12 times if I had set my alarm. I'm sorry that you're upset that you had to take me to the airport so early it feels like you're in the past but get a grip.

Ahem

I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce a.m. Porto. There is a joke among my friends that some of us have split personalities that rear their ugly heads when they drink. About 3 people have clearly defined personas, complete with names, all of which begin with Mister (we hate men?). I have yet to receive mine but I think I'd like to declare it: I am Mr. Porto. Unlike my fore'fathers' my personality is most assuredly borne of sleeplessness, or more specifically of being woken up in an abrupt or unkind way.

Until now only the select lucky few that have had the opportunity to sleep next to me have been privy to this divine creature, and even then only those who are good enough to wake up the dragon. But now I invite you, average reader (if you're reading this blog, you are certainly not average, you special little bug!) to meet Mister Porto*.

I wish I was writing this from a real computer and not this Gameboy. I would certainly insert a YouTube of 'Isn't She Lovely' to really complete this post.

(*It's no coincidence that I am taking the name from my father. I hate him this morning. Even if he did make me coffee and toast. I'll see you in hell old man.)