Mancini, who says he knew solo un po of Spanish prior to arriving in Mexico, was seen successfully flirting and cracking jokes in the new language by the time he got to baggage claim at the airport, according to eye witnesses.

“I haven’t really encountered any, como si dice, language barriers,” Mancini said charmingly as he rolled his own cigarette at a café near his AirBnb. “And when I make a mistake, I just say it with an Italian accent and everyone thinks it’s adorable.”

While Mancini said the learning curve for Spanish was steep for the first 90 minutes of his trip, by early afternoon he felt far more confident after reading a copy of Pedro Paramo cover to cover at lunch while sipping espresso.

By the evening, he was on his first date, where he appeared to be the perfect mix of charming, handsome and exotic, eye witnesses said.

“I think I hate this guy,” said Andrew Smith-Johnson, a 36-year-old American man who still sputters and clumsily speaks Spanish despite seven years living in Mexico City. “I know everyone’s all impressed, but Italian and Spanish are basically the same language.”

“We’re still 100 days away from the start of the tournament and half of the world is on fire,” Infantino said. “With so few places left on Earth safe enough to host the World Cup, we decided to play it on a planet where there is no sign of human life and no ongoing geopolitical conflicts that we are aware of.”

FIFA said ticket holders will be given the option of full reimbursement or can purchase a special all-inclusive intergalactic travel package that includes roundtrip fare on a space shuttle, lodging and meals for the low price of $250,000 per person.

“Mars is a 140 million miles away and while we understand the travel package isn’t cheap, it’s a Helluva safer than venues in Guadalajara or Texas,” Infantino said. “Also, we’re FIFA and we charge whatever we want.”

Mars, which doesn’t appear to have an established telecommunications network, did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

“I don’t know what TF I was thinking,” El Mencho told friends as military helicopters circled over his compound in Jalisco. “Dating in your 50s is so fking hard!”

At 3:13am on February 13 — following a long day lining his compound with landmines — El Mencho created a Bumble profile, according to information obtained from the dating app. On his profile, El Mencho uploaded his DEA Most Wanted headshot, included his real name and wrote “Drug Kingpin” for his occupation, according to screenshots seen by La Chancla News.

“He didn’t use the internet much and thought that adding ‘drug kingpin’ to his profile would make it stand out,” a source told La Chancla News. “He was right.”

Originally excited by the number of matches he made, when El Mencho showed the profile to fellow cartel members they were like “Dude! What are you doing? You’re one of the most wanted criminals in the world!”

Though El Mencho quickly erased his profile, authorities say his brief stint on Bumble did tip them off to his whereabouts.

“I think El Mencho is another tale of the male loneliness epidemic,” said a source and close friend of the drug lord. “Even if you’re a world famous narco with multiple properties, the dating game just aint easy.”

Known as Narcos Con Nalgas (NCN), the cartel — which includes hunks from Canada to Brazil — launched over the weekend at a popular gay resort in Puerto Vallarta when the group decided they were too good looking and muscular to just “shelter in place” as violence ravaged the beach town.

“At some point we were like wait a second, we’re way more fit than any of these chubby goons setting buses on fire,” said Stu McMann, a 37-year-old Canadian and NCN’s spokesperson. “It’s time to get our nalgas out there and kick some Nueva Generación ass.”

Though unconfirmed, international experts opine that the reduced violence and return to calm in the country on Monday was likely due to rival cartels fearing the impeccable style and good looks of the NCN.

Instructor Pamela Piña said that while Higginsberry was fine taking forward steps 1-2-3, when the dance required him to step backwards or sideways for 5-6-7, he repeatedly lost his footing and collided with others when trying to break his fall.

“We see a lot of errant flailing in our salsa classes, particularly from British tourists and other anglos,” Piña said. “But when Higginsberry elbowed the 71-year-old señora, we had no other choice but to ask him to leave, for the safety of others.”

Piña encouraged Higginsberry to give salsa lessons a second try next week, though suggested he bring protective gear such as a helmet and knee and elbow pads.

After Rivera slept with Kahlo’s sister and Frida retaliated by hooking up with Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky who lived down the street, the couple would have been “really solid candidates for weekly marriage counseling,” said Patricia Barrios, a Mexico City psychologist.

“I know they were busy painting post-revolutionary murals and self-portraits that would define Mexican and international art for generations,” Barrios said. “But they could have benefitted from a cognitive behavioral therapy session at least once a week, especially when Frida was lusting for Georgia O’Keefe and Chavela Vargas, or after Diego slept with Frida’s sister.”

According to sources, Frida and Diego did schedule a few sessions with a local therapist in their neighborhood of Coyoacán, but the couple canceled every time, claiming they were stuck at work painting artistic treasures that depict human suffering and Mexico’s class divide.

In Mexico City, where earthquakes are frequent, a seismic alarm gives residents sixty seconds to evacuate prior to the earth moving beneath their feet. Collins, who stayed out dancing until 6am at the popular night club Patrick Miller, assumed the rhythmic alarm and “wah wah wah alerta sísmica” voiceover was actually just a hot new mashup by Disclosure, her favorite DJ.

“It’s got a really sick ass beat,” Collins said of the seismic alarm. “It’s not the first time I’ve felt the Earth move beneath my feet while transfixed by the magic of sound.”

Only when a lamp crashed to the floor and the lights flickered did Collins realize something was wrong.

“When someone yelled from the street ‘Run gringa! It’s an earthquake!’, I just held on to the door frame and rode the tectonic wave,” Collins said. “It definitely interrupted my trance and killed my buzz.”

Unscathed and rested, Collins has taken to social media to encourage the Mexico City government to consider a mixup of the alerta sísmica so that, while terrified and running for their lives, residents will at least be treated to a dope banger.

Amid tensions and protests this year over gentrification and the arrival of entitled foreigners to Mexico City, Hart exemplifies the cultural competency and respectable integration chilangos have taken to the streets to celebrate and welcome.

Following stories in dozens of media outlets praising Hart for his cheeky remarks, he issued an apology on social media, dispelling any suspicion that he might be a self-righteous pompous Brit who considers himself superior to others.

If you do spot Richard at his popular overpriced bakery Green Rhino in the Roma Norte neighborhood, tell him congratulations!

He’s La Chancla’s December DNOTM!

According to restaurant owner Juancho Cardenas, the establishment has a policy that permits American customers to say the words like 150 times during the course of a meal. The Bluebonnets far exceeded that threshold during their 90-minute dinner, which led Cardenas to make the executive decision to remove from the premises.

“I studied English for years and there’s like no reason to say the word like so egregiously in every sentence,” he said. “This is a noisy city already, and someone needs to take a stand to try to stop Americans from polluting the air with these unnecessary verbal crutches.”

The Bluebonnets like immediately took to TikTok and Instagram to express their discontent with the Condesa restaurant.

“They like literally came over to the table and like escorted us out,” Kambree said in the video posted to TikTok. “Like, I’m like a paying customer and you just can’t like throw me out for like talking or whatever. That’s like literally the worst service we’ve like ever had.”

When contacted by La Chancla News, Cardenas said that the influx of American tourists and use of the word like in the Condesa neighborhood has driven his staff to the point of mania, adding that employees have suffered panic attacks in the kitchen while others report regular night terrors.

“At first we weren’t bothered by people saying ‘this is like sooo good’ or ‘this is like literally the best taco I’ve like ever had,’ but after a few months, our employees started suffering mental and physical health issues from hearing the word so much,” he said. “If there’s four or five tables of Americans in this place at once, the endless used of like, like, like can be heard over the music, which like diminishes the like upscale ambiance we like try to create for patrons.”

“In a world where the truth is increasingly difficult to ascertain, the President turns to La Chancla News for misinformation that can be trusted,” Sheinbaum’s offices wrote in a message to the news site.

According to sources, the President also promoted reading La Chancla News in public events in recent weeks, both at a march in Mexico City as well as in Washington DC for the draw for the 2026 World Cup, which will be hosted in the country next summer.

The protest, which shut down major thoroughfares such as Reforma and Insurgentes for six hours and caused traffic delays that paralyzed the city, was organized by the civil society organization No Más Marchas, a group that encourages demonstrators to take to the streets to pressure local officials to take action to control the perpetual protests plaguing the capital.

“The protests are out of control in Mexico City and if we don’t march and make some noise, who will?” said Yolanda Pozo, a lead activist at No Más Marchas, who is known to followers as YoPo.

During the demonstration, protestors spray painted graffiti on statues along Reforma and shattered windows at the Starbucks in front of the Alameda Park, which had just been repaired a day earlier after they were broken last week during a demonstration to protest the recent increase in acts of vandalism.

Originally from Fort Lauderdale, Barnwell can be found these days at popular Mexico City digital nomad cafés such as Blend Station, Quentin Café and Boicot, where he enjoys taking work-related Zoom calls without headphones on so that other patrons can hear him talk about brand identity, content creation and procuring an unforgettable customer journey.

Barnwell says that by holding Zoom meetings in local cafés, he is actively dispelling the myth that digital nomads in Mexico City aren’t actually working and are just here to take advantage of their positions of privilege.

In his free time, Barnwell microdoses hallucinogenic mushrooms, shops for vintage clothing in the Condesa, Roma and Juárez neighborhoods and spends evenings debating with other digital nomads about Mexico City’s best Michelin star restaurants.

If you do spot Brayden at a café talking loudly and bothering customers trying to read or chat quietly, tell him congratulations!

He’s La Chancla’s November DNOTM!

“While we in Mexico don’t discriminate against any visitors for their religious views or political affiliations, we—similar to Marjorie Taylor Greene—have to draw the line at open support for a guy who was Jeffrey Epstein’s bff,” the INM said. “Also, let us not forget the MAGA leader previously called us rapists and criminals so if you’re still supporting him at this point, we have to consider you as a threat to Mexico and its sovereignty.”

Burleson, who voted for Trump three times and has a tattoo on his back of a bald eagle shooting a red, white and blue AK-47 assault rifle, said he was surprised the hat was problematic in Cabo San Lucas, where he’d been told there was a large contingent of fellow MAGA supporters, Republicans and people that moved abroad to flee their criminal past.

“Y’all better watch out!” Burleson shouted as he was ushered onto his deportation flight by immigration officials. “‘Merica already took California from ya and if y’all ain’t careful, President Trump will grab Baja California by the pu$$y too.”

The offer includes “even the crappy neighborhoods” of the 9-million resident megapolis, such as Tepito, Xochimilco, Iztapalapa and large swaths of the Centro Histórico, Airbnb executives wrote in emails sent to the Mexico City government.

“Thanks to us, the Roma-Condesa-Juárez-Polanco bubble has been completely transformed into an international borough full of influencers and foodies,” a company executive wrote. “Now is the perfect time for us to expand and conquer the rest of the Aztec empire.”

With 2026 FIFA World Cup right around the corner, Airbnb said it is hopeful the offer will be approved this month.

“The sooner Mexico City accepts the offer, the quicker we can begin uprooting happy families from the homes they inherited from their grandparents,” an executive wrote in an email. “Sentimental value has no monetary value and once we own every last apartment in town, the boom in pilates studios and cafés with English names will make this place unrecognizable.”

“I’m really just praying for like a 5.4-magnitude on the Richter scale,” said Renata Plomero, a 36-year-old Mexico City resident who was forced to move from the Condesa neighborhood last year when her landlord converted her apartment into an Airbnb. “Enough of a rattle to scare the living shit out of someone who’s never been in an earthquake, but not strong enough to leave life-altering emotional and psychological scars.”

At the ceremony, some attendees dressed as Tepeyóllotl—who the Aztecs envisioned as a jaguar deity—while others came to wish for any event, be it seismic or divine, to return Mexico City to pre-pandemic prices and scare away people named Kendall and Braxton.

“I don’t like earthquakes as much as the next person, but the Aztecs didn’t have a God of Inflation or God of Gentrification I can pray to,” said Beto Vasconcelos, a 25-year-old dressed in a Tepeyóllotl jaguar costume. “I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a decent 20-second shake with maybe like a small 5-second réplica the following day.”

Ahuehuete says her abuela Dolores was “pretty much an asshole” when alive and that no one in the family is too excited to see her ghost when it passes through the altar at midnight on November 1. As part of Mexico’s Día de los Muertos tradition, people make altars that include photos and offerings such as candy, alcohol and flowers to invite the dead to come back and visit the living for 24 hours.

“Every year when we put her picture up on the altar I’m just like ‘fuuuuuhhhkkkk’,” said Ahuehuete. “I didn’t want to spend 24 hours with her when she was alive and it doesn't seem like she’s changed much since she transcended into the afterlife.”

Ahuehuete says abuela Dolores was a heavy tequila drinker and when intoxicated called her granddaughter “la gordita” and “la flojita” and made fun of her weight, appearance and the fact that she wasn’t married by age 19. After abuela Dolores passed away in 2019, Ahuehuete was hopeful her grandma’s spirit would return on Día de los Muertos as more gentle and kind, but has so far been disappointed.

“She’s the same pendeja she’s always been,” Ahuehuete said. “The first hour or two she’s fine but once her ghost gets drunk, she’s starts criticizing my tattoos and my complexion and I find myself counting the minutes until she’s dead again.”

On their Instagram account @MillersTakeOaxaca, the family says their first month in the city has been muy bueno and that they couldn’t be happier with the 8-room hacienda they rented on Airbnb and have already befriended the locals they hired to clean and cook for them.

The family spends their days practicing Spanish, which they now speak un poquito, and dining at Oaxaca’s Michelin star restaurants like Los Danzantes and Expendio Tradición, where they can order in English and chat with other expats about how cheap everything is in the city. Muy barato!

In the upcoming weeks, the Millers plan to watch Coco and the James Bond movie Spectre multiple times to freshen up on local Día de los Muertos traditions and to go door-to-door on Halloween to request candy and encourage Oaxacans to adopt U.S. culture.

If you see the Millers walking around Oaxaca and taking selfies, tell them congratulations!

They’re La Chancla’s DNOTM for October!

“I love it here, I just don’t fit,” said Podwojski, who was seen at the Mexico City airport applying an ice pack to a bump on his forehead. “It was an amazing trip and I made a lot of new memories and a lot of new bruises.”

Podwojski said he knew his height would be an obstacle immediately after disembarking at the Mexico City airport, where he smacked his forehead when entering a bathroom stall and had to crouch to pass through a narrow corridor on his way to the immigration line. After leaving the airport, in his first 24 hours in the country, he bumped his head in the stairwell of his Airbnb, on the ceiling of a café, against a hanging lamp at a restaurant, on the doors of the metro and against a metal rod that holds up a tarp at a local tianguis.

On average, Podwojski said he hit his head at least six times per day during his weeklong trip.

“Mexico just isn’t built for people my size,” he said. “While I definitely felt tall in Mexico City, when I went to Merida, it was like I was Godzilla. Everywhere I went, I smashed into things and then let out a roar like a giant monster.”

“I mean, objectively, he sings pretty shitty, right? Am I missing something?” Said Longwater. “Look, I like Ella Baila Sola, I really do. But there needs to be a hard cap on the number of Peso Pluma songs that can be played at a party in one night, and legally that number should be three.”

Longwater said he recently made the mistake of admitting to his Mexican friends that he didn’t like Peso Pluma’s music, which interrupted a party and strained some of his personal relationships.

“I told my Mexican friends at a party last weekend that I think Peso Pluma actually kind of sucks and the music screeched to a halt and everyone seemed both hurt and furious,” said Longwater. “I walked it back and said I was joking, though I learned pretty quickly that this is not an opinion you should share openly in Mexico.”

In it’s annual “Most Cliché Weddings” edition, Put A Ring On It readers voted Cancún as the world’s most basic destination for a couple’s nuptials, followed closely by Cabo San Lucas, another Mexican beach town teeming with second degree sunburns, all-inclusive bracelets and buffet food.

“If you are invited to a wedding in Cancún and the ceremony includes a reading from the first book of Corinthians, we suggest you run for your life before they play YMCA and the Cha Cha Slide,” the magazine wrote. “If we continue to act as enablers to these tired, hackneyed traditions and don’t cry foul, we’re not only letting down our friends or family members, we’re letting down all of humankind.”

The magazine reminded readers that there are 133 countries on the planet with ocean access and encouraged them to strongly reconsider friendships with people who have the audacity to invite them to travel hundreds of miles to serve them taquitos and chicken wings during a reception at Señor Frogs.

“If love is patient and love is kind, then love yourself enough to walk away from anyone in your life who would propose a weekend of tequila shots at Coco Bongo with people from the southeastern United States,” the magazine said. “We as a species need to hold ourselves to higher standards than attending weddings for couples who have matching tattoos and will undoubtedly design their future home with inspirational wall decals that say things like ‘cherish,’ ’gather’ and ‘live, laugh love’.”