Last night while it was raining so hard I couldn't run down the street with my computer and camera, I flipped on the TV in Xiomara's house and landed in 1950s America.
The Rebel Cats "Mala Influencia"were singing straight out of my dad's yearbook and every cliché of the stereotype, but I THINK this time the girl is the naughty one.
I was surprised and excited to see rockabilly popular enough in Latin America that it was on Telehit Random ... sandwiched between some Ricky Martin song (he's a BIT more edgy than the stuff the U.S. plays, so you know) and some girl singing something slow.
In León a few weeks ago, the dance contest in the main square featured a Spanish version of "rock around the clock."
Makes me want to cuff my jeans and go home and get my skull hair flower.
It also reminds me of 8th grade, when I came home from getting a haircut super proud because I was so cutting edge.
I had my hair nearly buzzed with a tiny bit on top, and had ripped my jeans all the way waist to floor, and Frankensteined them together with about 400 saftey pins, and was sporting a red shirt that was full of holes with a Sex Pistols Tshirt underneath and new red Chuck Taylor Converse, before they were the rage. Peter Allen and I were the only ones who had them and his were less cool (and white). :-)
My dad takes a look at me, disappears downstairs and comes back with his yearbook ... to show me his flat top that was nearly like mine, and a pair of white low-top Chucks from college.