blank'/> The Libe ob Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana: October 2012

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Monday, October 22, 2012

Waideen ad table

So stressful. The order nighd por the Woooman's deenhair party I yad to worgh por teeps.  So moch worgh. So many plates to carry. Why are the count-hairs made so high?

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Sarft, sour, golden, day een, day oud...

Yes. Eed ees me. I yam nard fad. I yam florffy. Arn my las' bed beeseed, Dr Slabe, I mean Slade, say I yab larst weighd: 0.2  poun'. So the Wooman says now I can ead how moch I wan'. Madre de Dios. My whole libe I yab been waideen' por thees.

So I woul' lighe to share weeth you my new fabouride foo', deescober las' nigh'. The Wooman was eadeen' lefdobers cheecken salad while she wadge forgheen' Nedfleeghs an' een the bowl ees sorm cole' cheecken een dresseen' ob beenegar, arleeb oil, raw shallot, whide balsameec beenegar, y golden raisins soag' y poach' een the beeneegar. Y chile. Mucho, mucho chile. She geeb me smallpequeno piece of cheecken after she has clean eed ob dresseen', then she puts the bowl negh's to hor, leabeen many raiseens y shallot.

I walgh arn tarp ob hor y ober hor to ged to the bowl.

Peeg, says the Wooman

(!? - You are the worn eadeen' een fron' ob the forgheen' TB?)

There ees no more cheecken lef' een the bowl, cad,  says the Wooman,

Ees OK, I say, I yam eadeen the deleecious, nutritious golden raiseens soagh' y poach een beenegar y leecken the dresseen'.

The Wooman star' the laugh. LAUGH! Ad me!

Estorbo, thees ees Seeceelian-inspire' foo'!

OK, I say. I yam inspire'! Whad eees the beeg, forgheen' deal?

She star' tagheen' oud the raiseens frarm the shallot y pusheen' them towards me, y I say, Gracias, y I ead all the raiseens y then I star' to ead the shallot. Thad ees when she taghe the bowl away frarm me.

She call me crazee.

She call me loco.

I call hor cruel.


Borpa (do I yab ba' breath?)...

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Zombiecad? Who, me?

The Wooman say: SnaboudobeedEstorbo.

She say: Yourpeopleareworry'abou'you.

My people.

I yab people?

She say: Your people whad hel' pay your bed beells, you stupeed cad! After your las' pose' they theenk you are a zombiecad!

Stupee'. You are calleen' me...stupee'?

She say: Focus, Estorbo!

I am so focus'.

STUPEE' ?!?!

She say: *eyeroll*

Eef you need, me, I say, I weell be arn the roop, carntrolleen' my caddle. I yab to breeng them down frarm the high pasture'.

Weenter ees cormeen'. They need a warm place to sleeb.


Yos sayeen'.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Estorbo doan' leab here no mas




Theese ees pribade, Wooman. I yam in my SPA!


Peas! I need peas. Quied.

No Wooman.

Fors' you taghe me to the bed. Then they maghe shabe arn my leg so I yab bal' spart por esstracteen' MY BLORD. Then they increase my drorgs por the typhoid, so I yam a forgheen' zombiecad. Then...then...

I doan' remembair.



I yos wan' to be alone.