Growing up, I always thought the Cheros (cowboys) at my high school were such chuntaros. My friends and I used to laugh at their chingamelavista lime green boots, painted on Wranglers, and motley-colored cowboy shirts. When they cruised through campus in their supped up pick up trucks blaring Ramon Ayala y Los Tigres del Norte, I would turn up whatever grunge band I had playing on my Walkman.
Since I’ve left home, I’ve become quite a fan of “chero music.” As I told my mom a while back, “me estoy haciendo bien naca.”
I am such a naca now, that I almost jumped out of my seat when I was able to download the newest Intocable cd 2C before midnight.