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September 8, 2012

Por Una Cabeza

One of my favorites of all time, this tango scene from the Al Pacino film Scent of a Woman. I also love the song.

Dedicated to someone very special.

Here are the words to the song, Por Una Cabeza, in English.

BY THE HEAD OF A HORSE

Losing by a head of a noble horse
who slackens just down the stretch
and when it comes back it seems to say:
don't forget brother,
You know, you shouldn't bet.

Losing by a head, instant violent love
of that flirtatious and cheerful woman
who, swearing with a smile
a love she's lying about,
burns in a blaze all my love.

Losing by a head
there was all that madness;
her mouth in a kiss
wipes out the sadness,
it soothes the bitterness.

Losing by a head
if she forgets me,
no matter to lose
my life a thousand times;
why live?

Many deceptions, loosing by a head...
I swore a thousand times not to insist again
but if a look sways me on passing by
her lips of fire, I want to kiss once more.

Enough of race tracks, no more gambling,
a photo-finish I'm not watching again,
but if a pony looks like a sure thing on Sunday,
I'll bet everything again, what can I do?

September 7, 2012

Does a Bear...

**** in the woods?

I was reminded of one of my dad's stories when I read this on a Facebook friend's wall:

Heading to lake McClellan for Boy Scout one day campout hope they can handle the bear that's gonna be growling while they are asleep LOL

My pop used to tell a story of going to the lake with a bunch of his buddies; they drank beer all the way there (that was legal then, btw) and ate cheese crackers and hot sausages and all sorts of stuff. They weren't far away from the lake when dad said he started suffering from "intestinal distress" because of all the beer and junk he had consumed. As soon as they found a campsite, he jumped out of the car, grabbed some TP and headed off into the bushes.

It was a moonless night, pitch black and he stumbled his way through the brush until he figured he had gone far enough away from the campsite to be as sanitary as could be considering the rough conditions. He hurriedly dropped his pants and crouched down, his stomach loudly rumbling, a sure sign that he had better be quick with his business.

Not to get too graphic, but pop said "it" was explosive, making a noise such as he hadn't heard in a long time. ("Like a wildcat well comin' in!" he would describe.) No sooner than he had started, he heard a muffled female voice: "Did you hear that?" then a man's voice, "What was it?" then the female replying in fright: "I dunno, sounded like a bear! "Where's my pistol?" said the male voice.

Without hesitation, my pop pulled up his pants and hastily made his way through the brush and dark night back to where his pals were setting up camp under the light of a gas lantern. Drunk and tired from their trip, dad and his friends went to sleep.

The next day, more than a little hungover, dad looked in the direction of where he had stumbled to make his emergency toilet and saw he had relieved himself right smack-dab in the middle of someone's campsite.