You know... most hoes do turn into mommies... and if you don't believe me, just tune to Maury on any given day of the week, and you'll see plenty of proof ("You are not the father!").
Let's start off with what occurred yesterday:
OK... so my family's quite conservative. I guess it goes back to my grandpa (Mom's Dad). He was terrified that one of his daughters would turn out to be a hoe because supposedly there's strong selection towards that in our gene pool (I guess that makes sense... I mean, how else would there be so many of us?). He knew he suffered from it (he had 3, possibly 4, other families) so he was like "I'll be fucking damned if any of my kids turn out like me!"
Well, he raised his daughters with one of the strictest hands I've known, and all 3 of his daughters turned out right (in comparison to my grandpa's siblings who had children that were, and some still are... hoes).
Mom then learned from that, put it to practice, and now, well, I've been known to call Mom "Hitler" once or twice.
So, the people from my folk's town (tiny, where everyone knows each other's name, and if they don't, the person in question will respond with "I'm *fill in the blank*, daughter/son of *paren'ts name*, the son/daughter of *[possibly deceased] person's name*") know of this little problem in our family.
They themselves are pretty fucked up (and who isn't? It's little towns where the most fucked up individuals are bred), yet they try their damn best to point out the flaws in everyone.
Our family, luckily, has turned out to be pretty tame. My siblings and I are known as "the good, studious kids" in town, and we are... big time.
This, however, pisses some people off... and they make it their mission to try and catch us in a mistake (do you know how much stress that causes us? I feel like fucking Tweek whenever I'm out and about with the homies, for crying out loud!).
There have been rumors spread about us in hopes of ruining our "reputation":
1) That Little Sister was getting married... when she was 16 (this made my sister almost box the lady that asked Mom in Little Sister's presence).
2) That Older Brother joined the army because he knocked a girl up and my folks kicked him out of the house (this made my brother confront many guys at a wedding, while intoxicated, and threaten to hang the guilty people from telephone wires. It embarrassed the shit out of us).
3) That I was a lesbian (this one made me cry).
4) That I was pregnant (this one made me... I don't know... I was sort of offended. How the hell is a lesbian going to get pregnant? j/k).
5) That I was banging an older, married man from the same town (this one made me sick. The guy wasn't even hot--SARCASM!-- and I never talked to him!).
6) That I was being shipped off to a convent because I was not interested in boys and also because Mom was scared I was going to convert to my dad's religion (this one made me laugh. Silly people, if I ever convert to anything outside Catholic-Christianity, it'll be Islam. Hello!).
I mean, there's a ton of that kind of shit out there. I hear most about myself... since... well... I'm right there to get it. They usually find it "suspicious" that I haven't had a serious boyfriend (to their stupid knowledge), that I don't enjoy dances (they don't stop and think "Wait, she probably doesn't like the music... or getting felt-up by the dipshit-boys present. Ah... smart girl!" Or maybe, you know, I just expect respect from others by first respecting myself), that I'm still in school (because who the hell wants to learn anything that isn't kitchen oriented?), and all I ever do whenever in Mexico is play volleyball/visit the park or go on hiking trips (what the hell is wrong with this girl?!). Why don't I just get pregnant and quit being weird, right?
No... I'm weird because I'm not a "regular" girl who puts on war paint and looks like a whore at dances.
Well, anyway, thanks to my desire to be... normal, quiet, and shy, I get this response from bitches that ARE skanks:
Es una mosquita muerta.
Literal translation being "She's a dead, little fly." Symbolically, it means... umm... well, that I'm a sneaky, hypocritical, two-faced bitch.
Mosquita Muerta? I have no idea where the hell they've seen me getting felt-up, fucked, or even making out with anyone. They must have super powers... or maybe they've just confused me with my Doppelganger.
I always say people judge according to the way they live... and well... now I know why one of my harshest critics was the way she was (besides the fact that she once caught me calling her Pinocchio AND Michael Jackson. But you know, you can only take so much before you resort to name-calling):
She has now ran away with the town priest!
Yes Siree, Bob!
Who the hell needs television when shit like this is happening in your hometown (well, not my hometown... well, it is my Mexican hometown)?
I guess the bitch really wanted to catch one of my siblings, or me, in a bad situation so that she could comfortably say we were all... hoes. Or maybe so she could feel better about liking a priest that much.
Sure, I've thought one or two priests were attractive... but I immediately retracted. There are SO many men out there... why try and get with a dude who's "married" to God (I've said I have a homewrecker theory... but I wouldn't even think about wrecking that home!)?
No, homie, I'll go for a dude that... well... doesn't have me competing with God.
This happened the other day... and I still keep mulling the idea over in my head.
How the... why would... oh man. That's jacked...
I'm not really "happy" about the news. I haven't even told a soul (well... I'm blogging about it, but I'm not mentioning names). Only me, Mom, and Little Sister know about it... and that's because Pinocchio's Worst Enemy told us (and Pinnochio's Worst Enemy's engaged to a guy that lives in Mexico).
I'm feeling pretty bad... and sad.
I didn't know she was that lonely/desperate.
A priest?
DAMN!
That priest always made Little Sister and me uncomfortable.
Little Sister: God, forgive me for what I'm going to say... but I feel like that man's undressing me with his eyes!
Me: I know! Why do you think I'm pinning anything that's V-necked?
The man was alright... but not anything out of this world (he did have some amazing hands though... I mean, physically. They were very pretty... to the point where I could be like "Screw the face... will you look at those hands?! I could marry those hands...").
Running away with the town priest.... not even I could invent such a story... such an ending to Pinocchio's love story.
:(
Another skank story, with which I'll end this post because it's getting too long and no one wants to read so much:
This weekend a good amount of my relatives were in town for graduation. My cousin (let's call him Eric), who's like a brother to me, graduated this weekend so we were all hanging out and in full celebratory mode.
Well... I tend to be a little loud/obnoxious when happy (If I'm not already when upset).
Today, Little Sister and I decided to take out Eric's sister, Ariel. Ariel's living in Florida for now... and it's the first time she's out of the state/house. We've been missing her a lot, so what better way of catching up than by visiting the mall?
We were giggling a lot (she was telling us some crazy stories about Florida girls. She says they put Rebel chicks to shame in the Hoe Department)... and we reached the bathing suit section of the store.
Me: Man, for some reason, I'm really wanting to visit the beach this summer!
Little Sister: Well, why don't we check out the bathing suits then?
We three chicks begin checking out the suits. I pull out an orange bathing suit that looked like this:
And comment to my sister: Wow... look at this whore-y one! Maybe, I should get this one!We laugh, I put away the suit, and we continue rummaging.
There's a Colombian/Venezuelan lady with her husband checking out the suits to Ariel's right (it was Little Sister, me, then Ariel).
Wife: (giggles) Oh! Look at this one!
Husband: Ew, for what? For your ass, gut, and love handles to be hanging out of it?
Ariel: (to Little Sister and Me) Man... the guy next to me's brutal.
Me: Poor lady...
We continue looking at the swim suits, a little quieter, and Ariel gets increasingly uncomfortable. The husband and wife continue looking... and the guy's getting meaner.
We reach the area where the husband and wife were initially, and I pull out a swimsuit identical to the orange one, but this one's blue.
Me: Hey, look, Little Sister! Another skankalicious swim suit!
The wife is standing next to Ariel, and looks over. Little Sister, Ariel, and I laugh and make fun of the suit. The wife leans in on us and smiles shyly.
Wife: Excuse me, can I see that?
Me: Oh... yeah, sorry... no problem...
I give the lady the swim suit, and Ariel gasps.
We walk away as the lady heads off to the dresser to try on the suit.
Me: (whisper) I said "Scandalicious!"
Ariel: (loud) No, you said Skankalicious!
The Venezuelan/Colombian wife lady looks over to us.
Me: Ariel... only to me... this shit only happens to me!
To say I felt horrible at that moment would be an understatement.
When I put my foot in my mouth... I really shove it.
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