Forces of Evil:0, Forces of Good: 1

So, you know how I live fifteen minutes from Mexico? And you know how I have reported on:
1. A neighbor wearing a wife beater, cowboy hat, steel-tipped boots, and Wranglers walking his Chihuahua down the street on a leash
2. A neighbor wearing a wife beater, Mariachi pants, and steel-tipped boots doing rope tricks in his front yard
3. The inability of the Wal Mart to keep the four-foot tall garden altars to the Virgin of Guadalupe* in stock (I have counted FIVE in our immediate neighborhood)

Well, last night took it all.

Note: I am not making a single one of these things up. I swear.

Last night, about five pm, my across the street neighbors (the ones who sweep their front grass with a kitchen broom) started to unload the kegs, catering trays, and people into their home.

Last night, about six pm, we put Jooj to bed, because she was a whiny rascal, and needed to sleep.

Last night, about six-thirty pm, W was promised Relations if he procured me a Peanut Buster Parfait** from the DQ.
Last night, about six-thirty-five pm the across the street neighbors raised their garage door and turned on the music. The banda*** music. And the lights. The disco ball lights. With a plural 'S. Because there were more than two.

So, last night, about six-forty, Jooj woke up screaming from the banda.

As a side note, one of the most famous stories of my family is when my aunt lived in Manhattan Beach, California, on the beach. Many of the homes near her were rented out for much of the year. One night, a school night, by the way, one of the rentals was housing a Nortena party. Feeling sheepish, she called the police to tell them to turn it down. The dispatcher responded "The police are busy, ma'am, catching criminals." Desperate, my aunt pleaded "But you don't understand--they are playing Banda!" Silence on the other end, then "We'll be right there, ma'am." The party was broken up within twenty minutes.

And was awake for the consumption of the PBP**** By nine pm, we were pretty sure that there was going to be no sleep for any of us.
But then it started to rain. With lightening. So the party slowed a bit, and we put Jooj back down. And we started to smooch.*****

And the rain subsided. And the banda music loudened. And then the Karaoke started.

And just when things looked the most bleak, when the audible "epas" and crashing of beer bottles were threatening to take over the entire house

The power went out.

Proving that God dislikes Los Tigres Del Norte as much as the rest of us.



*Patron Saint of Immigrants
**The Secret? Salty peanuts mixing with the hot fudge
***Best described by one of our Venezuelan friends as "La Musica De Doot-Doot Doot-Doot Doot-Doot Doot-Doot."
****Another secret? Hot fudge, THEN soft serve, then more fudge.
*****I DEFY you to make out to banda music.