Juan and Violeta’s mom overhears them talking, and finds out that Juan has been fired. She doesn’t take the news well. Meanwhile Dolores continues to tell Sofi about the line Sergio has been feeding her.

A show about four professional women who live in the big city and talk about sex and men all the time? Where on earth did Telefe come up with this idea?

That mujeriego Mariano has really messed with poor Elena’s head. If we were her, we’d dump the scoundrel for Durand, the suave French lawyer, tout suite.

Sometimes if you’re sitting at home, depressed, stewing in a pot of emotional turmoil and angst, really the best thing to do is just go out and shake it! (P.S. If your boss looks like she’s taken the bullet train to Splitsville, we strongly suggest you don’t mention it… especially if you are looking for her to sign off on your French classes!)

Sofi’s “ex” seems to be courting a restaining order, no pun intended. Meanwhile, Jose, still pining for Mani, has a heart to heart with her brother, Franco, over the breakfast table about unrequitted love.

Totally ignorant of Jose’s longing for him, Mani (“el soñador”) is having his own private chat with Juan (who’s motto is: “quizás signifca sí”). It’s Clara, not Jose, who’s on Mani’s mind. Franco is thrilled with the job Violeta is doing, but tension is in the air when a cunning rubia enters the scene.

Mauro’s not afraid to place a wager on his success with Violeta, though we wouldn’t bet on it ourselves. Franco drops into Dolores’ shop, just in time to realize that Sergio is the father of Brisa.

It turns out that Tere wants to learn the piano, just like grandma. Or could it be she just wants an excuse to be with Juan? Mani stops by Amalia’s kiosk but forgets his Oreos on the way out.

It seems the brother-in-law is having an affair with the cook’s daughter, who is trying to get him to help her out of her maid’s uniform, and not only during the wee hours of the morning. But it doesn’t seem like el patrón is in the mood to be doing any favors for his wife’s brother, does it now?

Milagros is sidelined from the fútbol match and forced to peddle soda pop to pay for the team’s new shoes. Meanwhile, el patrón is getting the third degree from his mother, who lets on to us that he’s got a guacho child of his own on the loose—spawned with the butler’s sister?

What in the world is Yabla? Julieta explains it to you, and all in in under two and a half minutes! Don’t worry if you don’t speak Spanish, it’s all subtitled and captioned, with plenty of features to help you soak up any new language muy pronto! What are you waiting for? Fire up the video!

Goods and services that show up on our urban doorsteps are the ultimate in convenience. Latin Americans love el delivery as much as anyone, maybe even moreso.

When we ask for two, we’re happy to get any, but Melina is a lady not used to being short-changed, abril bello or no…

The meaning of fascista is self-evident, but Southern Cone countries also use facho. Balas, of course, are “bullets” but in some countries also have the alternately slang meaning of “homosexuals” or “gays.” Balas and Fachos are, evidently, also the names of tv shows in which Majo and Gloria’s young client stars.

Gloria and Majo are still on the same job but inhabit different planets. Meanwhile Melina connives to plant seeds of desertion in Gala’s unsuspecting head…

What exactly does Soledad care about that fellow’s uncle? And is the former child star really concerned with the girls’ ability to earn a living? Stay tuned…

Gala says she is ill in the guardia of a hospital, but that doesn’t seem to be the case at all. Meanwhile, Majo is intent on interrupting her husband’s enjoyment of a good book.

Cianuro is, as you may have guessed, the Spanish term for “cyanide,” a poison that has long been used to propel dramatic intrigue. In Gabriel García Márquez’ Love in the Time of Cholera, for example, the photographer kills himself with it. Watch closely for the lethal chemistry cameo.

We’ve all heard of the bolero, which has its modern roots in nineteenth century Santiago de Cuba (even though we might not be able to hum one on cue). But what about the cuartetazo? Born in Córdoba, Argentina, and derived from Spanish and Italian dances, the name is derived from the fact that the earliest players were invariably four-piece bands. The rhythm is similar to merengue.

¿Quién es Javier García? With his producer (and two-time Academy Award winner) Gustavo Santaolalla, Javier Garcia talks about his roots and influences. Also, we learn about some noted musicians who contributed to the album 13, including the great trumpet player, Arturo Sandoval.

Who is this woman that Marciano Cantero met in Denver one winter evening? (Madonna?) It may have been a temporary affair, but the song it inspired has endured, proving to be one of the Enanitos Verdes’ biggest crowd pleasers, as you can see from this concert footage.

Fernando Hortal, aka Bahiano, broke away from his band of 17 years, Los Pericos, in 2004 to go it alone. This video shows the rufían delivering milk and a little more. Oyelo, ¡te gustará escucharlo!

Enanitos Verdes’ album En Vivo was recorded live in Tijuana, Mexico and Phoenix, Arizona (USA). The song "Tu Carcel" was written and first performed by Marco Antonio Solís, so it’s a real crowd pleaser with the Mexican and Mexican-American audiences.

Babasónicos have never let themselves get pigeon-holed into one style or sound since they formed in the early nineties (much to the consternation of some fans). With "Carismático" we drop into a surreal dreamscape of Dada visuals and equally fantastical lyrics, all encapsulated in a hook-laced pop tune. Dive in!