Beyoncé in Cordoba

I attended another birthday party last night. It was for Tati, a friends of Andrieta´s and a girl who witnessed one of my Boliche experiences. I was told it was a family thing and we needed to go, make an appearance, and get home. I though that was okay, seeing that my sultry man-voice causing sickness has now morphed into something rather tacky, complete with the hack of a 90 year old chain smoker and nasal drip that could flood Sri Lanka.

We arrive at Casa de Tati, and are greeted with a plate of food. And it was GOOD food. I looked around, said hello to a few people, and went to town on the empanadas. I noticed on the tables, there was a lot of beer and wine present. Cha-Ching! How can I make this cold better, you ask? Add immune weakening booze to the system, Duh! I finally rationalized it so I could defend my thirsty ways with the idea that booze is good for the throat. So, as the host came to ask us what we wanted to drink, the 3 kids I arrived with answered ¨Coke¨, and that sneaky woman, caught me with an entire empanada in my mouth. I contemplated spitting it out on her just so I could ask for a beer, but that host was a swift one, and before I could down the grotesque amount of animal carcass and bread jammed in my mouth, she was back with massive glasses of coke...or Pepsi.

(Another defeat for Courtney in Argentina).

We stayed around for about 30 more minutes, bundled up, and hit the road. Villa Allende is a smaller town, and it would have only taken around 5-10 minutes to get home, but I realized we were going in the opposite direction. Hmm. I didn´t ask any questions as the scratchy Spanish music stations were too loud, and my position (where my legs were splayed rather innapprotiately around the back of the drivers seat of the 1979 Geo Metro sized automobile) did not permit leaning over and shouting. I realized after about 15 minutes that we are going to the City. Well, I´m okay with this. Maybe they´ll stop for coffee or tea, and I´ll stop for a double vodka on the rocks, lemon please, because I´m sick.

I should know better.

We got to the city, and drove in and around the city. We passed many a pub and restaurant where people sat outside drinking (One of my most favorite things EVER) and laughing....taunting me. I considered at a stoplight to exhale on the window I was pressed up against and write the word ¨H.E.L.P¨ on it. Perhaps someone would feel bad and run over and let me sip their cocktail from a straw through a crack I would have made in the window. That too, did not happen. I was however, was getting curious where we were headed. About 5 minutes later we were on our way back to Villa Allende... We were headed nowhere.

(I would have been cool with it if were were heading to Nowhere, a very cool, random gay bar in NYC, but that´s neither here nor there...it´s Nowhere).

Yes, that´s correct, we drove 20 minutes to the city, 20 minutes around the city, and 20 minutes back (in a DEATH TRAP) to kill time. The highlight was when Beyonce came on the radio. (Those of you who worked with me last summer or had the privilege of being in a car with me for more than six minutes understand my deep connection with Beyonce. It´s not MY fault if I was late to work because the radio timed her 5 minute song wrong and at 2 minutes to four pm I was in the parking lot screaming those lyrics for 3 minutes). Either way, I chanted in delight with my diva and realized that I had NO VOICE to sing. I wanted people to know what would happen IF I WERE A BOY!!! Sadly, mouthing the words had to suffice, because even I didn´t want to be subjected to my teeth clenching performance of Beyonce. Whatev

I´m off to purchase extra-strength cough medicine. I can´t go another day knowing my vocal cords are unable to replicate the sounds of Sasha Fierce!

Toodles