Saturday, June 30, 2007

Warning: Under 17? Fuck off (hey, I'm just following orders).

Online Dating

Why? Because I say:
"shit" 23x's
"fucking" 15x's
"fuck" 9x's
"hell" 6x's
"bitch" 5x's
"pain" 3x's (ok, then... I guess this thing's being considered some sort of... fetish thing)
"skanky" 2x's (oh, give me a break! how do they know I wasn't talking about the dance move?)
"whore" 1 time

I wonder if that's for real... or do they have any other words skipped... because I can swear I've cussed more than that (haha... that was a funny phrase).

I'll say it time and time again: I've tried cutting back on the potty mouth... but... I've just come to terms knowing that's just how I am, and how I'll always be.
It's a trait passed down from generation to generation... you know... cause you hear it all the time.
There will always be that one girl in the family who swears like a sailor while the rest of the family is well mannered (although I am well-mannered... I only cuss once I'm comfortable, so people should really take it as a compliment).
My grandma was the cusser in her family, Mom was the cusser in her family, and I'm the cusser in mine. Poor offspring of mine... they're doomed.

At least I can still control myself in front of children (I have caught myself dropping the F-bomb--multiple times-- in front of the daycare at the gym. Baaaad!).

Anyway... nice to know no people under 17 should be reading this thing.
Hahahaha... I'm bad (if you know me... that'll be unbelievably ironic. I'm a fucking lamb, I tell you! I just punch, kick, scream, and cuss when provoked... but that takes effort from the other party's behalf. Seriously... what do you expect from a chick born and raised in the ghetto?).

P.S. Full moon tonight!! Holler! (and here I thought the Blue Moon occurred last month! But it would have been cooler had this occurred while I was in Mexico. Man... now I've made myself sad)

Thursday, June 28, 2007

But... how am I going to break it to the fellas?!

Well, the inevitable has finally occurred: cleavage has been banned in my house.

Yep. I was wondering what hell was taking so long.

I always knew Daddy was one of those fundamentalist Christians (I mean, some lady in his congregation did damn me, Little Sister, Older Brother, and Mom to hell because we were Catholic--as if we were Satanists or some shit-- but I think I've already told that story. I was like five or six when that happened?).
He does a lot of wacky things... like tell us not to drink (and I suppose I don't, partially because of that. The other half just doesn't want me to drink 'cause alcoholism runs in both sides of the family. So picking up the habit wouldn't be too hard), or do drugs, or move in with our boyfriends (which he would prefer be from his church, but I said that was a no go, cause most people there are Puerto Rican or Dominican... nothing against them or anything... but they talk a lot, and really fast. I just can't catch up). Well, there's a ton of those "rules"... a fucking ton, but I tend to push them out of my head.
I ain't Pentecostal, so don't you tell me what to do!

Well... anyway, on with the story... yesterday cleavage was banned thanks to Little Sister.

She has a thing for Abercrombie shirts that are low-cut or have button-down fronts (which she undoes the first 3 buttons, because they, well, give her nice cleavage). I joke around saying she does it as a mode of competition with me (which she definitely loses), but I also tell her they look nice (cause they do, I must admit. She has a chest I'm jealous of cause she's not flat, but she's not huge either).
So yesterday she was wearing a white, Abercrombie button down... with the first three buttons undone. We were sitting at the dinner table, so we were all in some sort of pajamas... or laid-back clothes. She was probably the one that was done-up the most out of all of us (most definitely more than I was).

That's when it happened...
Dad went off on Little Sister... about how skanky her shirt was... and how "Real men don't have to look at that..." blah blah blah.
To which even I took offense.
What the fuck? Are you saying my best body part is only attractive to... fake men? WTF?!

Then Mom joins the argument.
Mom: You know, your daughters are probably the most conservative girls out of all the girls from *PlaceinMexicoWe'reFrom*?
Dad: How do you know that?
Mom: All you have to do is be in the same room and you notice!!
Dad: Still, we can't have them showing off cleavage like that! The girls at my church don't do that!
Mom: Girls of ALL denominations dress like that... if not worse... everyone shows cleavage!
Dad: Not the girls at my church!
Mom: This isn't church!! It's the dinner table!
(Little Sister's crying now)
Little Sister: It looks nice... ::sob:: I don't dress like this to be called a hoe ::sob:: You want me to wear a hoodie?!
Mom: Calm down...
Little Sister: I'll wear a fucking hoodie!!! ::crying like a baby::
Jesus Christ... we're turning Amish...

So then as Little Sister searched for her hoodie, I sat with Mom and Dad.

According to Dad... now that stores are selling such revealing clothes, it serves as more proof that the world is coming to an end (then again, the world's been coming to an end way before the day I was born).
No matter how much Mom tried to convince Dad that we were good girls... and that we actually didn't flash nearly as much skin as most girls, Dad was adamant about having us cover up:
No more boobie-showing shirts (he actually called my sister's chest that... which made both of us--Little Sister and me-- want to vomit)!!

Now, I wear Tee shirts more than anything... but now that cleavage-baring shirts have been banned, I feel tempted to walk out the house like that.
Peace out, Dad... I'ma go find me a fake man! Cause thas how I do!

I hate it when Dad gets a new pastor... weird shit like this happens more frequently.
At least he didn't attack the Internet this time.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

New Rules

Just because I never change doesn't mean others won't.
I tend to forget that, and get ass hurt when I notice a change in someone.

Such is the case with Artistic Boy.

I remember in high school when the rumor spread that he was gay. I stood up for him and told people they were jack asses for "spreading a vicious lie."
"Supposedly" Artistic Boy sent a note to HotColorBlindMormon Boy professing his love for him... and while HotColorBlindMormon Boy was super cool with everybody (when he wasn't busy climbing walls and shit... or eating his boogers--that was disgusting, I've caught him a total of 3 times doing that. Plain fucking sick, and the quickest way to get me to stop thinking you're attractive) he wasn't cool with gays.
So, HotColorBlindMormon Boy went about and told the biggest mouth of the Senior Nerd Class. According to word of mouth, HotColorBlindMormon Boy had the note and showed it to BigMouth.
It didn't take long before everyone was going around in our AP English Lit class whispering and then staring at Artistic Boy.

Since Artistic boy was super shy, and new to school... I though he was too mortified to clarify the "rumor." So a couple of my friends and I decided to be up front with Artistic Boy and we asked him what the deal was (because earlier we confronted BigMouth and he swore up and down that he had been shown physical evidence that Artistic Boy had a crush on HotColorBlindMormon Boy, like all us girls).
Artistic Boy said it was a vile lie... and of course, I being a dumb ass who empathizes too quickly, believed him (and then went on and on about what a dickhead BigMouth was).

Well... once Artistic Boy graduated high school (a year after I did), he ::ta-da!:: came out of the closet!
I felt sort of angry, not because he was gay--not at all!-- but because he let me make a fool of myself by talking shit about BigMouth (who's a good friend of mine now. Better to have those people on your side, I say).
Even so, I still showed him my full support. It's none of my business who a person finds attractive (he did admit to sending the note to HotColorBlindMormon Boy... to which I said "OMG... you thought a Mormon Boy would like you back?" then later, to fix my mistake, I said "You know... he eats his buggers. I've caught him. Twice!" I also sent him a text on the third time I caught HotColorBlindMormon Boy eating his treasure one day before getting to UNLV--that's right, we were in college the last time I saw HotColorBlindMormon Boy eat his buggers).

Things were fine and dandy... even after he left to LA to follow his dreams of becoming a writer (as is the story with most idiots who go to LA). I maintained a friendship with him over the internet (Myspace, baby) for about six months... I even read some of his fucking eternal "short" stories (he had about 13 parts to the damn thing! I called it quits once he reached part 6, thinking "How fucking far can you take this shit? I love you, kid, but enough is enough!") and gave him feedback he seemed to appreciate.
Once I stopped reading his stories though, he became distant.

I thought I was being dumb, you know... just overanalyzing shit like some sort of jealous girlfriend.
But no... most certainly not.
He's been in town now for a while... and today I realized:
This fucking kid thinks he's the next George Lucas! Steven Spielberg in the making?
WTF?! He no longer wants to hang out with the Plebes? Well, fuck this shit.
I guess Hollywood changes a person... even when they have yet to hit the big time.

Shit dude, I think come July 7, I too must change.

New rules in effect 07-07-2007:
Girls: You ain't rockin' Christian Louboutin heels, or Christian Lacroix couture... fuck you. You ain't rolling with this chick. Also, you must have suffered from at least one eating disorder... and you must have at least one dysfunctional parent.
Boys: If you've never owned a Rolex... fuck you... stay away. This high roller needs... someone who can at least own his own mini island. Oh, and you must also enjoy talking about the rule of thirds, the color wheel, and begin all your sentences with a catchy hook.

Yeah... fuck that. Why the hell are people such fucking assholes?
Man, am I tired and cranky!

Monday, June 25, 2007

Summer Time AnoMALIE

I'm exhausted.
It's difficult being the body guard of 3 sort of inebriated girls.
It's like having 3 small children to run after while screaming "You come back here, you hear me?! Don't you go bothering strangers!" "You stay away from that creepy fellow over there! I don't need you missing then all of a sudden turning up floating in some canal in Southern California..." (OK, maybe my mom was the only one who used the latter... but it sure as hell kept me from wondering around).

I've lived here since... I was born... and my parents have visited the strip each time a family member from outside Vegas comes to visit. But it took me 22 years to make it to the strip and act like a tourist... camera and all. What a shame.

It was... entertaining. While I do admit that the entire time I was at Caesar's Palace I kept having flashbacks of the one time I went as "chaperone" for a date my little sister had a couple years back. Those flashbacks were neither entertaining, nor pleasant. I could have been enjoying the damn thing, I mean... we were having fun with the drinks my three friends had. We would make the shortest girl of the group drink out of the foot-long margarita glass each time we were in front of security (the girl's around... man... I don't know... four foot... eight? But she's 22, probably older than me). They'd just stare at the guy who would give her the drink... I'm sure thinking "Man, that's one fucked up father!"
But nooooooo... I had to be thinking shit like "Ew... that's where Little Sister and *BitchLiarwhodidSisterVERYwrong* were... oh man... get it out of my head!" or "When we were going down this cool escalator, Little Sister and *BitchLiarwhodidSisterVERYwrong* were going at it like there was no tomorrow..."
Those two ruined my life... fucking... hormonal teenagers.

But anyway... I had fun, I suppose... although I did get a little sad thinking FutureDentistFriend will be gone and our dates will be no more (you know, until she drops by to visit every other month)... and no more Kickboxing instructor stories will be shared (more like... no more talk about how fantastic the instructor is. He's like, the poster boy for the gym... that shit's crazy).

At least now we'll have "When you were buzzed..." stories.
She was an adorable buzzed girl.
-She's adorable with her dental stories (she was telling us about how easy it is to knock out an Asian with anesthesia, but how redheads have a hard time and that they usually come back from it all violent. That was funny... and totally out of the blue when she said that).
-And when she talked about how awesome her mentor is (a dude I was pretty pissed at this past semester, but when I saw my final grade in his class, I could have kissed the man).
-And how she looked surprised when I told her I was Mexican:
FutureDentistFriend: You speak like... 4 different what are you?
Me: Mexican!
FDF's eyes get wide.
Me: I mean... I'm a U.S. citizen... I love America. I was born here... so I'm American... but I'm Mexican because of my parents... so I'm... Mexican-American.
(Shit, and I'm the sober one here and I'm stuttering like an idiot... it was the damn chocolate fountain! That shit Mesmerized me to the point where I was functioning like a drunk...)
-And she was adorable when she was going crazy taking pictures with strangers (the sober ones: me, Chase, ShortGirl, and BoyWhoEnjoyedGivingShortGirlDrinksInFrontOfSecurity gave the drunken trio the idea to hunt down tourists wearing certain colors and then taking pictures with them, thinking it wouldn't peak their interest... but they got so into it, we sober ones started fearing for our safety once we noticed the type of people the drunken trio were going after, i.e. attached men who had their sometimes irritated girlfriends scowling at us for going up to her man).

Lovely way to spend a Sunday night (I say that with no sarcasm... I really did enjoy myself even if my feet were a little in pain).

Anyway, let me make this announcement: Summer tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime!
Yes, I know it officially began last week, but it takes a while for me to realize this because certain things need to occur before I can officially declare my persona being in Summer Time mode (yeah, I'm a completely different person during the summer than during any other season of the year).

I begin to realize I'm being Summer Time AnoMALIE when:
1) I start sleeping in... sort of.
2) I definitely stay up late (Go to bed before 3 in the morning? Not this chick. It's kind of like insomnia)
3) I start on cherries, even if they cost 6 bucks a pound (O.M.G. Don't get me started on cherries. I... adore them)
4) I become addicted to cherry tomatoes! (mmmmmm. Just... mmm)
5) ...and Watermelon! (Oh man...)
6) ... and Lemonade! (stttttop thinking about this, AnoMALIE, damn it!)
7) I crave Slurpees at any time of the day, especially if I'm in an area where 7-11's are nowhere to be found (I'm usually scared of 7-11's during the other 3 seasons)
8) I crave Ice Cream at night (I fight this one with all my being!)
9) I can't stop thinking about, dreaming about, and talking about MEXICOOOOOOOOOO! (Ahhhh!! Although... I'll be sort of alone... and it's gonna be a little difficult to assimilate to the fact that Grandpa won't be there to give me really hot chiles... or be there to give me apples to feed his horses... or make me angry with his little jokes... or tell me I look elegant in my Sunday clothes... or tell me stories about his Korea days. Man... it's going to be hard)
10) I start having nightmares every night of the week (I hate this... but alas, it ain't summer unless I am abruptly awoken from my "dream" with my heart racing and sweat running down my face).
11) I vomit at least once... reason sometimes unknown (yeah... most definitely true. There has not been a summer where I have kept my cardiac spincter happy and working properly)

Summer time... I love it... even if it does have me sweating bullets at night, and vomiting in the morning
(what the fuck... do I mysteriously become pregnant over the summer?).

Saturday, June 23, 2007

I need my Mommy.

I didn't know the extent to which 1408 freaked me out until this morning.

Apparently it reached the level of "freaked the fuck out" because last night I had horrible nightmares that looked very similar to what went on in that movie (just add my dead grandpa crying my name out in pain and there you go). That's the first time I experience something like that since... Chucky (you know, where the kid's running around in the toy factory. That shit freaked me out to no end when I was a kid. I guarantee you will never get me to go inside any factory... ever).

Yeah... next time it's I Love My Sister Day, I'll make sure to force Little Sister to watch a "sweet" movie.
(No, I won't. I'm always on the look out for truly creepy movies. Glad I found one that messed enough with my head to make me cry in my sleep. Yessss!)

Anyway, I told Mom about the nightmare... bummed her out.
So what did I do to cheer her up?
Well, she has a thing for the circus. Something about it reminds her of her childhood.
Dad shares this love for the circus (well, he did grow up in the same town as Mom).
I, on the other hand, kind of sort of hate it. Zoos and circuses make me sad (say what you will, but those caged animals don't look like they're having the time of their lives), but since both parents love this thing, I found them some tickets for the circus.

This cheered Mom up... a lot, actually.
If she wouldn't have been so glad, I never would have let this escape from my mouth right as Mom and Dad were getting out the door:

Mom: Ok, Mija, we're leaving to the circus!
Me: Alright Mommy, I hope they don't keep you!

Sure, it made Mom swat at me... but there's no way I would have let an opportunity like that slip (unless, of course, she was pissed and anything with the possibility of becoming a projectile were in sight).

Come one, come all! It's the incredibly small woman, with super-human strength, and the ability to make her daughter piss her pants with just one glare!

Damn, dude, I'd definitely have to charge people to see that.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Mis Palabras Matan.

Best thing to come from Argentina, aside from soccer stars:
Spanish rock/ska/reggae.

Los Fabulosos Cadillacs being a good example.

Makes me forget whenever I have a shit day like today (and it makes it that much harder to cry).
No wonder Argentineans are so conceited... I would be too.

Play on, playas!

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Whee! I'm a girl!

It's always around this time of the year that I'm ecstatic... why? Because it's the Victoria's Secret Semi-Annual Sale! That's why! (I never knew how much joy new underwear could bring)

Oh man, I freaking love this panty right here:

(Man, Alessandra Ambrosio is good at selling underwear)

Here, in my home, we get 3 (no idea how that happened, we just get it. Actually, I guess it's one for me, one for Little Sister and one for Mom) VS catalogues. So, there are times where I'm bored and I've read through enough shit... then I'll just bump into one of the catalogues and start playing the game of "Oh... I'd buy that... and that!"
Well, in all three catalogues, that pair of underwear always caught my attention.
Upon seeing that the pair were on sale today, I was elated... and didn't think twice about getting a few in different colors (of course, that black one was the first one my hand went for. I never thought advertisements would work so wonderfully with me).

I pulled a Jessica Simpson with my credit card. When Mom asked how much money I spent, my response was:
"I... don't know..."
Mom: What do you mean, you don't know?!
Me: We went to three malls! I don't know!
Mom: Well, you better get to checking.

I did... and... it all came up to 200 dollars and 27 cents.

I had forgotten what it felt like to get screamed at/lectured by Mom.
Doesn't feel good.

At least she's not making me return the Bras and panties... that would have pissed me off.
I went through a lot of trouble to get those bastards! I'm not about to go and return them.

While I LOVE this sale, I don't love the ladies that like the same things I do. They're so pushy... and scary.

"Get me those Boy-Shorts!!"
"I want that bra with the frillies!"
"Oh man, where can I get those?!"

I may not know a lot of things, but I do know that if those bitches are ever again hovering near my bin, I'm staying the fuck away next time.

Most of these ladies SHOULD NOT be wearing Boy-Shorts, anyway.
Do I tell them? Hell no... I keep my trap shut and go in whenever the coast is clear... kind of like a scared cub when the lion parents are having a feast with some wildebeest's carcass.

I stand close... try and put my hand in the bin, some bitch woman the size of Jupiter moves her hip into my right side, a second equally large woman moves her hips into my left side, both grab any underwear I'm holding out of my hand, and I quickly move out of the way... almost excusing myself for breathing the same air they are.

By the time I can check out the panties safely, all I have to choose from are the really ugly Christmas granny panties... or the really skanky G-strings that give people rashes like an Yeah... fun.

I could only score a couple of decent pairs of the $5 panties... and I had to move on to the 3 for $25 bin where no crazy Mommas were threatening my existence with their hips and crazy mean kids with unbelievable searching abilities (this one little girl had an eye for the super cute underwear. She kept scoring her mom some of the best underwear I've seen. A true waste, cause I doubt the mom could do the underwear justice--she was one of the ladies that crushed me). But I didn't mind that much, it was thanks to that encounter that I bumped into the cool Alessandra Ambrosio undies.

The bras were a different story.
I kept having chicks (that worked there, let me clarify) asking me if I was cool with my size... or if I needed to get measured.

No, thanks... I know my size... I do shop here often. I'm cool... no need to measure my homies.
You sure you know your size?
Positive. Thanks.
You sure we can't just... quickly go back there in the dressing room and just... measure... it'll only take a few seconds. Nobody else can see.
...Yeah. No. I'm cool. Thanks.

Then another worker would go back to folding any bra I'd pull to the side after examining.
It was fucking crazy. I kind of missed the mean ladies that would slap underwear from my hand at this point. At least they'd bark at the crazy chick and scare her away from the herd, ya know?
Instead I kind of just stood there... staring up at her from time to time and smiling my Are-you-gonna-leave-any-time-soon? smile, only to be met by her "Is everything OK?" question with her I'm-not-leaving smile.
Maybe I should just let this bitch touch my boobs and get this shit over with... then I can hopefully shop in peace.
Three bras, dude... three fucking bras was all I could stand to pick because crazy weirdo lady wouldn't stop staring at me and smiling (so creepy, man).

And here's another complaint:
Sale my fucking ass.
Ok, maybe it is a sale, but with the size I buy... those fucking bras are still pretty damn expensive (find a $9.99 size 36DD bra at this place, I dare you. Shit, I'll PAY you!).

It's times like these where I start to ponder whether breast-reduction surgery will ultimately save me money later on down the road. Who knows... maybe one day I'll be able to fit comfortably/nicely in a 10 dollar bra!

Till then, I must put up with 30 dollar+ bras (you know what I can buy with thirty bucks?! Well, maybe if I were smart I'd be able to use my much-complained-about chest to get money/free bras... but I'm not that type of person).

I try and explain this to Mom ("It's not like I want to buy 30 dollar bras... but they're the only ones that fit nicely without making me look like... a lactating mother. You want me to look like a lactating mother, Mom?" "Aren't you the one who wants me to show what my Momma gave me when out in public? Yo, world! Look what my Momma gave me! And she wants me to find these babies a ten dollar bra and still look nice! You want me to wear a Wall-Mart bra, world?" etc, etc, I can make this go on forever. I've had this argument with Mom since 10th grade. In 2001, I was comfortable being a size B for the rest of my life--cheap bras for life-- but suddenly Betty and Veronica decided to make an appearance on my chest and ruined that plan), and while she doesn't take the bait at first, after a while, she understands.
Plus, she sometimes starts playing around with the bras I purchase (as does my sister)... wondering what it's like to have a big chest.

Mom: Man! Imagine what it'd be like to look like this!
Me: It's not so rad, Mom. Trust me.
Mom: It has to be! You see all those girls who almost kill themselves trying to get big boobs.
Me: Well... unless... you're sort of shameless... and you know... kind of an attention whore, big boobs are great. However, you decided to give birth to me in March... and made me all... shy and shit... which doesn't work for a big chested girl.

So yeah, anyway!
I got my bras and panties... and lived to tell about it.
I fucking love it (you know, after all the lecturing is done and over with... and all the playing around with my bras is over as well).

Until next time--in January--when I once again risk my life for a couple of cheap, designer underwear... sheesh!

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Fluffy, like a cupcake.

I love hearing Mom talk about me to people over the phone.

She says fantastical stories about me, and I can hear them all!
It's awesome.

Really? I said that?
OMG... I stood up for myself like that?!
Wow! I scored higher than anyone else on that exam?!
I'm freaking awesome!

Yeah... no... Mom lies.
I wish I were really as smart and witty as Mom makes me out to be.
Adds pressure when I meet people.

This is her? I thought you said she was witty/smart/talkative?

No... I'm really just a mute who nods or shakes her head when someone else talks to me.
Sorry to disappoint, homes.
I have no idea how to translate this one Spanish word I'm really fond of:
I suppose it means someone who's sort of nosey. We use it when we refer to some lady who helps conceal an otherwise "forbidden" or secret relationship... or someone who helps bring about a relationship behind the parent's back.

Well... I enjoy the latter. I fucking love hooking up people.

That's what I've been up to lately.

Little Sister's been bumming around for the last couple of months because her "boyfriend" (not legit boyfriend because all they really did was make-out every now and again) dumped her for an older woman (I've never seen Little Sister hate on a chick as much as she hates on this girl... lady... whatever she it. Even if the woman's 8 years older than her, Little Sister's fearless about talking shit and calling her names to her face. Little Sister's funny).
So Little Sister's been going around listening to sad music (my sad music is better... she listens to too much Hip-Hop and rap... that shit could never depress me nicely, it'd just make me feel cocky) and writing poems (she's done this since her first "boyfriend" dumped her back when she was 4).
She'll go off in Spanish, English, and when she wants to be really poetic, she goes off in Portuguese.

So, me being her smarter, more experienced sister (haha), I have been doing my best to hook her up. Is there any other way of cheering someone up?

There's this one boy who practically worships the ground she walks on. He's loved her since she was in Middle School. He's told everyone but Little Sister that he thinks she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen (when everyone around him told him to ask Little Sister to prom, his response was "No, I won't, because she's too beautiful to go with a guy like me." Which made me frown for him). You know, all that cute stuff really sprung guys say about chicks.
He's a cutie... and each time I see him, my heart melts for him (like my heart melts for baby colts, baby bunnies, etc. Not in the way it melts for Cristiano Ronaldo. No, no). He makes me want to squeeze him and "Aww!" whenever he's mentioned.

He has maintained a friendship with Little Sister ever since their graduation. He'll text her while he works and he's probably the only guy I've seen that makes my little sister smile... and not because he's being some rico-suave loser like most guys she digs. This guy's an innocent, shy, little... cutie (see, I talk about him and I can't stop gushing) who makes Little Sister smile like she used to as a kid.

Well, anyway, this guy works at a bakery (Awwwwwwwwww!! I tell you!) and he's been promising Little Sister cupcakes for a while now.
The first two times he brought her some, he left them at Twiggy's place.
Since Twiggy's a bitch, she kept them all (two freaking dozens! Selfish bitch).
Well, he became a little angry about this, but he still didn't want to come to our house to give Little Sister her cupcakes. However, I convinced Little Sister to give him the green light to come to the house (Yes! Free cupcakes for me, boyfriend for her!) .

My Little Sister's odd... so instead of letting him in the house, she waited for him outside. Of course, since I'm an alcagüeta, I went to my bedroom and looked out the window.
I gushed, of course, when I saw their exchange.
They're fucking adorable. He does the whole kick-an-imaginary-rock thing while Little Sister plays with her hair and smiles coyly (I'm jealous of that move... since I can't play with my hair without looking like I need some sort of lice-removal shampoo). I wanted to applaud, I was so happy.

I then had a talk with Little Sister about how we once mentioned how stupid girls were for liking guys that treated them like shit.
Me: Fool, remember how we were watching Maury that one time and we were making fun of the chicks?
Little Sister: The dumb asses that would get screamed at, and beat by their husbands?
Me: Yep.
Little Sister: Yeah. How we said girls were stupid for liking jack-asses that treated them like shit.
Me: Precisely.
Little Sister: So?
Me: Well... here you are crying over *Bastardwholeftherforgranny*, your second "boyfriend" after *BitchLiarwhodidSisterVERYwrong*... and that other dude *SluttyGuyWeCouldCareLessAbout*. And here you have CuteCupcakeProvider who worships the ground you walk on.
Little Sister: But I can't like him! He reminds me of my brother!
Me: Fuck it! Get over it. He looks nothing like Older Brother, and he's the nicest, cutest boy I've met.
Little Sister: *Older Brother*!!
Me: Right now, you're being one of those stupid-idiot girls who like being treated like shit!

Our conversation went on like this for a while... her calling CuteCupcakeProvider *Older Brother* and me convincing her that they looked nothing alike and that she was being stupid (Plus, CuteCupcakeProvider would never fight with her like Older Brother).

What happened? I got all of Little Sister's coworkers and friends to think like me.
What did Little Sister do? She agreed to give CuteCupcakeProvider a chance... but that he still needs to ask her out... which is possible as long as I somehow let him know... or just convince Little Sister to be a lot more flirty with him... and drop hints.

Boyfriend for her... free cupcakes for the rest of the household!
(and they're not even regular cupcakes! They're awesome, fluffy, pretty, artsy cupcakes from some fancy cupcake store. This kid went to school to learn how to bake cupcakes, for crying out loud! I've died and gone to heaven, I tell you!)

Finally, I do something great with my life!

Monday, June 18, 2007

Mistake number... *&%#$@!!!

If there were an award handed out for Person Who Fucks Up, I'd win it, hands down.

I mess up all the time, but this time I may have just ruined my Mexico trip...
My bro's gonna be mad at me... big time.

Hijo'e su chingada madre... cómo soy buena pa' joderme la vida!

Maldita imbécil.

I could have avoided this... but nooooooooo... I had to be playing around with Youtube and Rick Martin videos... a true procrastinating idiot.

¡Quia! ¡Pendeja!

(this is the time where someone would get a tight grip on my shoulders, shake me, and scream "Reeeeeeeeeeeelaaaaaaaaaax!" in my face. Maybe even add a slap or two... if necessary)

I had totally forgotten how bad Frazier Hall (FRA) makes me feel (I held back gags while in there... and I almost asked Chase what my name was. I HATE that place!).

I don't know who's more condescending, the people in the Bio building or the people in that damn Enrollment services place.

At least they didn't call me "Melodie" in the FRA... how many Hispanic girls have you met with the name of Melodie? How many Hispanic, Senior Biology-majors at UNLV have you found with the name of Melodie?
Yeah... that's what I thought, bitch ass secretary in the Bio building...

Sunday, June 17, 2007


As much as I hate to admit it, I'm a daddy's girl.

I fight with Dad almost as much as I get along with him.
Our moods have a lot to do with it.
Sometimes I'll be mad because apparently I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and Pops will be all happy and chirpy. He'll be all... nice daddy and I'll be the barking bitch daughter.

Other days, I'm super lovely... I mean, I even baby talk sometimes... and he'll be grouchier than Oscar.

I suppose it works out that way because we're so similar. I'm like the female version of my dad... sort of... I'm like daddy but I look like Mom... sort of.

Anyway, he just knows how to make me super happy (as well as how to make me flaming mad) and I do admire my daddy. A more driven individual I've never met (thanks to his dedication, and hard work--working up to 20 hours a day-- he turned our rags-to-riches story into a reality. I don't know many Dads that do that).
Also, when he promises something, he'll follow through... as stupid as some of his promises may be (I mean, he has bought me two SUVs... as well as my sister's two cars) . And he's very giving with others... even if he may be a little stingy with us... but it's only because he knows we can live without it.
If it weren't for Daddy, many families from our home town wouldn't be living in the U.S. legally... and he did it even if it meant he'd get in trouble... and he still did it even if the families never thanked him (only a handful have done so, and he's happy with that little bit of people being thankful).
Sure, there are times I have to hide my food from him... and yes... there was that one time I called him a "Fucking idiot" when he placed a Pop-Tart in the microwave (with the wrapper still on... so the microwave went all crazy and those were the first words out of my mouth as I ran towards the microwave)... and there was that one time I acted like I wasn't his daughter at a furniture store when we were shopping for a sofa and he called a worker over to show him a wad of cash and then tell him "Gimme the best one you got" ... but I really do love my Dad, a lot... and I think he rocks... hard!

He makes me laugh, he gave me my sense of humor... and that little thing where I crack a joke without even knowing it (it's usually at my own expense, but oh well).
He was always there to protect us from Mom whenever she got super mad and wanted to spank us. He let us hide behind him, and with that, Mom would forget about hitting us.
He's always there to give me a hug, squeeze my hand and whisper "You're beautiful, Mija," whenever we're the only two losers sitting at our table at some wedding. His friends abandon him to go to the bar (Daddy quit drinking once he changed religions back in the 70's), my friends and siblings abandon me to go dancing/drinking (it's not that I don't like dancing... but like that George Michael song says: I'm never gonna dance again. I also swore never to be inebriated for a party, because I make a huge ass out of myself). While I do feel like a loser, if it weren't for Daddy's words, I'd probably have mascara running down my face at each wedding I'd ever attend (well, kind of. I've learned to use waterproof mascara while at those events).

I love you Daddy... mucho, mucho, MUCHO!

P.S. Momma, don't feel bad, I love you too... even if I used to try to get out of your arms as a baby... and even now. But I do that to everyone... just not Daddy.
While we're on that subject, poor Mom's having a hard time right now. She's been crying a lot. And yesterday at church they made her read the announcements (fucking retards, I tell you. They should check out what they're gonna have someone read before they chose someone to do it), and one of the announcements was to ask the Dads of the congregation to stand up as we were all going to sing "Las Mañanitas" (aka Spanish version of the Birthday song--but cooler-- that can also be used for other occasions... like Mother's Day and Father's Day) to them.
You could tell Mom was having a hard time holding back tears... and she became choked up more than once when she had to continue with the announcements.

I hate watching Mom cry. She's my pillar... and when she cries... it makes me feel... I don't know... hopeless (she's one of those people that once they start crying, you start crying regardless of where you are and how many people are around to watch the scene).
We had to be retarded last night and play techno music to cheer her up (technically, it was "electric"). We played the song maybe four times, and each time, Little Sister and I would start dancing like go-go dancers and we'd ask her to join along... which she did... but it was a bad idea for 1 in the morning, and while Daddy slept.
But still, we had her dancing to "Coqueta."

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Annoying, like the boys.

That song makes me smile... and think about mischievous kids.
Which brings me to this:

I claim not to like Gemini Guys because they have a tendency to be two faced and annoying (like any mischievous kid, really).
Imagine my surprise when I noticed five of my male buddies have a birthday today or tomorrow (two of them today, three tomorrow) .
It's even funnier to see that with all five guys, we became buddies because at some point or another, one of us was attracted to the other (well, I only had a crush on two of the guys first). Four out of the five are Mexican (the other one is a Canuck), and I've had beef with four of them at some point in my life (I've punched three of them, cussed out the fourth, and just kind of ignored the fifth... which was probably the worst thing I could have done to the poor boy).

I love them all, and appreciate their friendship, but I really can't stand to be around any one of the guys for longer than ten minutes.
A group of dudes with more ADD than them I have never met... but I suppose that's what makes this Pisces a little less... you know... hermit-like.

Gemini Guys... how adorably annoying!
Enjoy your song, punks... because the birthday song's played out.

P.S. Three of the guys have some sort of alcoholic beverage on their Myspace main picture. The fourth is holding a baby, and the fifth is at a grocery store... I think it may be in front of the beer section now that I pay closer attention to the picture.

And they say Astrology's a bunch of shit...

Friday, June 15, 2007

Poor seahorse...

I talk about this video in the post below, but since Youtube's being gay, I had to divide it into two parts.
Enjoy the video that traumatized me, made me laugh... and sort of made me sad.

My talk about Ricky irritates Youtube

Man, I keep looking at that video over and over again after finding it on Youtube. It had been years since I had last seen it (I'm thinking 1997).
Hahaha. You gotta give it up for the Mexican actors in there (well, Mexican music videos in general... they're a trip!).
Kate Del Castillo gives "crazy" her all. haha.

Talk about doppelgangers: In my early teen years, Altar Boy's family once had to tell me that I looked like her. I say "had to" because they took the time to wait for me after church one day and then had Altar Boy's little brother (he was 5 at the time) tell me that I looked like "Ana"--Kate's name in the soap opera in that time. Supposedly he was the one who made that association and then wouldn't stop bugging his family about "Mira Mami! Es la niña que es novia de Nacho!" Altar Boy's family from then on called me "La niña que se parece a Ana" AKA "The girl that looks like Ana," (a lot better than "La niña que es novia de Nacho," 'cause I ain't no Nacho's girlfriend) which only pissed me off 'cause I was like "Yo! I have a name! Your son and I have had a thing going on since fourth grade and you have the balls to call me by another name?"

Seeing the video reminded me of that moment in time.
It would have been cool if they called me that because Kate's ass is... out there man... I wouldn't mind being associated with her because of having a similar big ass... or muscular legs. But I'm pretty sure they made the correlation because of the eyebrows (because I know I don't have an ass or legs like that).
No, my eyebrows are NOT crazy like that. No. Not at all (that thought might have had something to do with my unbelievably thin eyebrow phase of the late 90's-early 2000's. I in no way wanted to be associated with that type of brow line).
But I can sure as hell mean-mug people like Kate does in that video... and I would be 100% down with kicking some ass like that (you see how she flings that vase at Ricky Martin?! I keep replaying that part thinking "Shit, man, that's badass!" Seriously, she's freakishly strong. Ricky wasn't faking it when he was trying to hold her down with little success. Those petite Mexican girls, I tell ya, you gotta watch out with them. I know, my Mom's one).

Also, it was thanks to that video that I stopped liking seahorses. Something about that video just made my mind go "Alright, dude, I'm done with those little creatures... done."

Another thing: if Ricky ever grows a mustache like that again, I'm boycotting.
That was horrible.

And now, the lyrics... because I learned a magnificent word thanks to this video, Osadía (and here you thought I only listened to Ricky Martin because he's a hottie. Think again! He gives me good Spanish lessons--because in all reality, I speak like a Mexican hick):

Antes de que empiece a amanecer
Y vuelvas a tu vida habitual
Debes comprender que entre los dos
Todo ha sido puro y natural

Tu loca mania
Has sido mía
Solo una vez
Dulce ironía
Fuego de noche, nieve de día

Luego te levantas y te vas
Él te está esperando como siempre
Luces tu sonrisa más normal
Blanca, pero fría como nieve

Tu loca mania
Has sido mía
Solo una vez
Dulce ironía
Fuego de noche, nieve de día

Y mientras yo me quiedo sin ti
Como un huracán, rabioso y febril
Tanta pasión, tanta osadía. Oh, tú

Fuego de noche, nieve de día

Noche a noche en blanco sin dormir
Ardo entre los pliegues de mi cama.
Se que estas a punto de venir,
Pero solo viene la mañana.

::sigh:: I love that song.
I promise this Ricky 101 phase of mine will pass... once I see all the youtube videos necessary to satiate this hunger for Spanish-singing Ricky Martin.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Casi, casi, pero todavía no.

How does my kickboxing instructor seduce all the girls in class, even if he is around five foot seven?

With that song right there. Casi Un Bolero.
Imagine Ricky Martin not singing (the English killed it for me. I have strong anti-Spanglish feelings when it comes to songs) and just the instrumentals. Get a few dozen girls exhausted from punching and kicking to stretch their legs in dim lighting... and bam... you got yourself a very effective love spell.
He must have learned it form his Incan ancestors... cause man... is that guy good.

I'ma see him again today... and hopefully I leave before that song starts playing... because it works like a fucking charm with me.

He better not start playing "Fuego de noche, Nieve de día," 'cause then I might have to up and leave from that class ASAP.
I don't like developing crushes on short dudes... especially not when they pull off the Latin Lover/Casanova role successfully. Eeek.

Damn, Ricky Martin and Robi Dräco Rosa... WTF is it with your music and lyrics? I should never be swayed like this thanks to some guitar and sexy dude singing. No. No. No!
(But I still am. I just googled Ricky Martin and realized more than 6 of his songs are... umm... yeah... they control my behavior. haha)

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Plain Jane-- I mean--Juana.

I claim to never really change, mainly because I find tons of evidence behind such claim (all I really need to do is pop open my old yearbooks... or even old diaries to see that yes, I'm a hardheaded idiot who refuses to change more often than not).

Over the past week or so, I've been cleaning out my Inbox and have found tons of e-mails that stir up crazy emotions (I have shit from back in 2003. I never realized aol saved e-mail like that). I get really angry with some, very sad with others... and most just really crack me up like "Why the hell was I saving this?!"
I've found that while my original claim of stagnancy holds true most of the time, I have changed, a bit.

The following e-mail made me think "Fuck, I'm still the same, sort of"... it also made me laugh to see how upset I was over 2 little things.

I did this survey on February 6th of 2006, and this is how much I've changed in 16 months. Comments in the red were added by me today, the other brackets were me trying to be funny or just being verbose... seeing as how I seem to talk a lot on these things without really saying much:

1. Something purple within 5 feet of you?: "Memorex Cool Colors CD-R" packaging. [The packaging is now gone, since we had to open the CD-R's 'cause we burn CDs like mad people--not really]

2. Now something green: there's forest-green construction paper to my right [That's still there. We're not a very creative family, I suppose. Or... we just don't participate in activities that require green construction paper]

3. Your nails were last painted: in September... you can usually tell my mood by how I take care of my nails (right now it's in the "I don't give a fuck... get me out of school" mode) [My nails are once again un-painted after going through a phase where I painted them every other day. I now just apply a clear coat. I last painted them in April, when I was a very happy camper]

4. The weirdest thing you've ever heated in the microwave?: "Carne Seca" which is air dried meat with lots of spices (salt, oregano, pepper, Caribbean chiles)... sick when you think about it (and see it as well), but oh SO good! (plus, I get my protein that way) [That remains the same. Sort of. I was reminded by my little sister of these really cool plastic disks we used to get in our chips back in Mexico in around 1995, where you'd put them in the microwave and they'd shrink to form a tiny, but thick, disk with like... the Tiny Tunes drawn on them. Those were cool]

5. How much Japanese do you know?: domo arigato... that's all [Yeah. Sashimi?]

6. Do you look good in yellow?: supposedly it's flattering for people my skin color, I'm personally not a fan (although I do own 1 yellow shirt) [Bump that number to 5. I like yellow now. Do I look good in it? I don't think so... then again, I never think I look good in anything.]

7. Do you sing?: when alone or in the car [Unchanged]

8. Ever danced in front of a crowd?: yeah, who hasn't? I mean... there are plenty of weddings... concerts... quince's... tons of opportunities. [Now I can add "Gym" to the list]

9. Do you ever spit?: like a camel. I've gotten pretty good (I've donned myself with the nickname "phlegmy Noemi"). [Ha. I had forgotten about the nickname. I still spit like that though. I should probably get that checked, too]

10. Is your hair long enough to chew on?: long enough for me to put it under my armpit as well... ha. [A tear silently rolled down my left cheek as I read that. Man, I miss my hair. At least I can once again chew it if I please]

11. Least favorite color?: brown. [Hm. Now I don't discriminate. I can't hate the brown... HELLO! I'm down for the brown seeing as how I AM BROWN. I'm an imbecile sometimes]

12. Ever had Dippin' Dots?: nope, I don't put money to waste like that. [Still a no... and still for the same reason. I would never spend money on it, and I would never accept anyone else spending money on it just so I could try some. Hooray for normal ice cream!]

13. Ever played an instrument?: well? I guess the violin. For the hell of it I've done guitar and piano. [Oh! I've also played the accordion--so much fun-- the Bass, cello, viola, saxophone, flute, recorder, xylophone--I hated it, especially the nutcase music teacher who'd force us to play it during the entire month of October because supposedly it sounded "creepy"--, and a drum pad! Never well, hell no... but I have played them... even if it was just a stroke or whatever]

14. Ever had a H2O massage?: no... those people that offer them creep me out. [Still holds true. I don't like massages of any kind, really. I'm ticklish and I hate feeling ticklish]

15. Do you believe in bigfoot?: I was forced to back in elemtary school... stupid G.A.T.E. [Gah! The memories this question brings back. Stupid G.A.T.E.]

16. Ever been to a palm reader?: nope [Still a no... even if all my friends and family have :( I'm going one of these days, damn it!]

17. Last Pez dispenser you purchased?: I've never purchased one, but I did get a wonder woman pez dispenser in a goody bag when I was like.. 13 [Hahaha! and if only I could have videotaped the drama I went through in order to get the damn goodie bag! Too old to get one... shit. Fuck that, no one's too old for candy! You bastard cheap-skates!]

18. What song is playing right now?: none, but I can hear planes going overhead [And once again, my house is silent and there is no music around here, but there are still planes shaking my house with their loud engines]

19. Did you have a good weekend?: no! I hated my weekend. stupid car. [That weekend did suck. My car broke down and then I was bought a new car without my permission (I know that makes me sound like a spoiled idiot). It sucked because I didn't want (and I didn't feel like I needed) a new car. I wanted to wait until we had time to get the best one out there. Instead, I got gypped with Bambi because my sister was a complaining little brat. Yeah, I got the car because she complained about having to ride in an "unreliable car." It was a 2000 limited edition 4Runner. I loved it :( but it was still taken away]

20. What are you thinking about right now?: my lab T.A. and how much of an asshole he is... fucking bastard. [That son of a bitch. I would of gotten an A in physics that semester... but what happened? Fucking asshole Lab T.A. with a damn attitude problem happened. Cocksucker. Douche bag. Fuck face. Pendejo. Perrrrrrrro!]

21. Have you ever had a black eye?: a mini one [Oh! They're so much fun! Especially when you receive a sport's ball of some sort to the nose... the swelling's magnificent!]

22. How is today going for you?: good if it weren't for fuck face physics lab T.A. [I think of him and I still feel like screaming and punching a hole through a wall. Stupid guy. I saw him this past semester with some sort of girlfriend--I mean, she was holding his old, creepy, ugly, stupid, hairy, chain-smoking hand and everything-- and I thought to myself "That robot's capable of feeling tender human emotions?" Then I corrected myself by thinking "There's a female specimen capable of loving that monstrous excuse of a human male? Someone give me some Dramamine!"]

23. Any plans for tonight?: I need to edit my story and I gotta do some sort of Ecology one-page essay. blah. [Oh, those Ecology essays! I think I aced that one... mainly because the professor grading that time actually liked my style of writing... unlike the other one who would beat the shit out of my writing each and every time. "I don't understand, nor do I like, 'cutsey' intros." But professor, that's how I do! "Too bad! C-!"]

24. Ever take a picture of something that was dead?: flowers. (oh, I'm so goth) [Haha. Indeed, I am. Where's my eyeliner?]

25. Are you ready for New Years?: I can't think that far ahead. [I never plan for New Years. Ever. But that New Years--December '06-January '07-- I spent it angry and semi-plastered. But the following day was pretty cool]

(Apparently, 26 wasn't important enough to add here. It was probably some sort of question on virginity and one of the previous posters erased it out of fear of being called out on it)

27. Do you find Smurfette sexy?: I find Smurfette slutty. and her voice always bothered me. [Still the same impression, Smurfette]

28. Current disappointment: looks like I'm gonna have a bitch of a time in my physics lab for the rest of the semester. [¡Y vuelve la burra al trigo! I just can't drop this subject.]

29. Do you have an air freshener in your car?: not anymore, now that it's "new car smell" *hint to #19* [ I still haven't added an air-freshener. No need, since food and cigarettes are off-limits in my car]

30. Do you have plants in your room?: fake ones. ha. [Not true anymore. I took them down because of a scare I received later on. I'm glad they're gone. I felt like I was living in the jungle at times]

31. If you could drink anything right this second what would it be?: strawberry smoothie... mmm... [I have no clue why I was craving that... since I obviously like cherry/raspberry smoothies]

32. Last piece of mail opened: some sort of credit card offer that I ripped to tiny pieces because that type of mail makes me paranoid (I'm weird, I know it) [And I'm still paranoid about that sort of stuff]

33. Does anything hurt on your body right now? my bottom lip. [Bwahaha. This one could be changed now! I no longer hurt that bad on the lips, since I've cured my chapped lips problem. I have been victorious in that battle!]

34. What city was your last taxi cab ride in?: Mazatlan [Still true. I hate taxi cabs with a passion... and Mazatlan taxi cabs suck major donkey balls!]

35. Last alcoholic drink you had?: Tom Collins at Abi's wedding [That was Oh, so long! ago! That girl now has a baby... and I have had oh so many more drinks (ok, not that many. I've just had a couple of shots and mojitos). No, I'm not an alcoholic... but I am Mexican (so it's kind of expected of me to be able to down a couple of tequila shots while keeping a straight face). It also sort of upsets me that this was the last question to the survey. What the hell is up with that?]

Yep. Looks like I pretty much remained the same. I'm also glad I don't answer surveys anymore.
Who the hell needs to know so much information?
(I still do them in my spare time though, I just never post them for other people to read. One day, I'll finish the 100 question one... then no one will ever have the need to talk to me again. haha. Dude, I'm so anti-social.)

Monday, June 11, 2007

The stars don't like Cretins.

Man, no matter how hard I try to like this one dude, I just can't get over how much of a cretin he is.
I don't mean "like" in the sense of falling in love yada yada yada, no, I mean, to enjoy his company as the "boyfriend" of a friend's friend. To appreciate him being part of the group... and even the human race. To listen to his "arguments" and comments without it being accompanied by my desire to vomit or jump at his throat à la Homer Simpson with Bart (when his conversation revolves around math-oriented subjects is probably the only time I enjoy him even opening his mouth to utter anything. I must say, he's witty when it comes to that subject).

This kid is genuinely unlikable. He's such a prick... and it's not like he picks out a certain group to be a prick to, no, he's an equal opportunity offender.
It'd hurt if his insults were bad (as in, planned out... or making any sort of sense. Not his argument of "you suck because I say you suck even though I have no idea what cretin means because I don't care about reading or learning anything about language because if it isn't math it's stupid because it doesn't make sense to me and if it doesn't make sense to me it's stupid and fake and useless").
No, this kid's insults are similar to those of an eight year old (I was going to say ten-year-old, but I realized ten-year-olds usually know how to read, and this fucker's quite the retard). I think the only person he hurts is his girlfriend.
At some point they were engaged... I think... then all of a sudden he starts correcting people (and he does it like such an asshole, too) when they call her his girlfriend,
Him: Roommate! She's only my roommate!
I guess he thinks we'll find it funny... when it really only is insulting to the poor girl who's only a good person... like a little lamb.
Maybe that's why he angers me. If his chick were a fellow asshole, maybe I wouldn't mind... but this girl's a good girl that gets brainwashed by Cretin Boy into thinking she can do no better because she's a fat, ugly idiot (which she obviously is none of the above).

He ruined my night.
It would have been great had he been absent.
Cretin Boy, you ruined Astrology Night for me... thanks, bitch.

Anyway, Astrology Night was funny to me... because while Cretin Boy was talking his shit and saying the astrology stuff was stupid and people who liked it were stupid, the rest of us at the table read his "Birthday page" in which his personality was described. It fit him to a T. He read it and scoffed.
"I'm hurtful? Pfffft! No I'm not! Am I hurtful?! No!"
The rest of us at the table stared at each other.
Shit, the people who wrote this shit must have gotten the CIA to spy on Cretin Boy for a couple of months and used him to describe this day. Wow.
FutureDentistFriend wrote down Cretin Boy's name in the book faster than anybody else's.

Anyway, off him and onto people that really matter from that night:
I had previously been informed of FutureDentistFriend's interest in all that is Astrology (I mean, I kinda got the hint when I introduced myself to her for the first time and she asked for my birthday and then said "Ah! You're a Pisces! I get along with Pisces... nice to meet you, my Pisces friend!"), but when she walked in the Sushi place (my sushi appreciation is back on. I ate my California Roll without gagging) with that big book ("the Bible"), I got the picture of how much she dug the subject.
She made me read my "Birthday page," she wanted me to read it aloud, but instead, I just pointed to parts that were true about my nature.
There was a good amount that was wrong (the whole me being a business girl... or me paying a lot of attention to how good I look before going out was sort of wrong. I do like to go out looking decent, but I won't kill myself trying to... wait, no... I do. I take it back. I guess I disagreed because often, as hard as I try, I still go out looking like shit... I know it, and it does bother me for the rest of the day, but I know there isn't much more I can do. I was born this way, damn it! I can't fix my nose no matter how much bronzer I apply!), but there were parts that kind of freaked me out.
March 1st: The Day of Artistic Sensibilities.
No manchen! Que... acaso a mí también me persiguieron por meses y luego decidieron escribir esta chingadera, o qué?
Towards the end of the page I did get bummed out. It mentioned that when my life sucks... it really sucks. When it rains for me, it really pours. I experience the bad at a really bad level.
To which my response was:
THANK YOU! I've been trying to tell people that for years, but they just call me a drama queen!
Man, did I feel validated! haha.
The advice for me?
Be! Aggressive! Be! Be aggressive!!
Not exactly like that, obviously, but that was basically the bottom line.

At the end of it all, I had to sign my name to the page... because it did represent me to a large extent.
It made FutureDentistFriend happy, but I'm pretty sure I now have to go to confessionals and tell my priest about this (I also got a tarot reading from another friend at the table, which would probably be frowned upon much more by the priest than me reading a page from FutureDentistFriend's "Bible").
I'd do it again though, 'cause it was funny to see the look of "Oh shit!" from others who felt they were being described perfectly.
"This is some creepy shit, dude!"
Why, yes... yes it is.

P.S. Those sweet ass Hula-Hoop bruises are back! Except this time they're smaller... which makes me feel even more badass!
I'm growing immune to the hula! Holler!

Sunday, June 10, 2007

A Spaniard in France... how dreamy.

Yeahhhhhhhhh! Rafa won the French Open!!

I love this boy... who cares if he's younger than me, his hair's longer than mine, and his eyes are tiny... I love this kid (his body's so dreamy)
Kiddo made my day... even if Federer losing kind of made me sad.

However, you can't win them all.
Mexico lost to Honduras in soccer today.

Bitches (shit... I say that about both teams. Fuck them all).

Oh well, I understand I can't be pleased 100%.
At least the team (person in this case) that won plays a sport I care more about (well, I love soccer and all, but when it comes to American teams, my heart's not fully into it. Especially if it's not the World Cup we're talking about here. Just some lame-o cup of the Americas... or whatever).
Go, Rafa!!
(What can I say? Sundays are my sports days)

Friday, June 8, 2007

The day that keeps getting weirder

Man, oh man... there are days that I just know will not be right from the get-go.

I had nightmares all last night. I'm guessing it's from all the physical exertion of the last couple of days.
I forced myself to wake up once this pleasant dream of taking in three stray kitties turned to the kitties stabbing me with their sharp kitty claws. Those kitties then transformed into evil Labrador puppies that were growling at me, ready to pounce.

Fuck that... nothing worse than having the most adorable creatures wanting to hurt me...
So I forced myself to get up.

I then decided I wanted breakfast.
As I was cooking, I spilled some milk all over the top of the stove. I turned the stove off, grabbed three paper towels, and went to work.
Well, in my hurry to get the stove clean, I had forgotten it was still hot, and I ended up burning the shit out of my fingers.
I also burned my tongue when I started eating, but that always happens. That's why I hate hot food.

Then, after the whole burning of the fingers/tongue, I decided to shower.
Well, right as I was ready to get in, I heard the doorbell.
It sounded like the person outside really was in a hurry to get in, so I though:
Fuckin' Little Sister! Can't she use her damn house key?
Thinking it was Little Sister and some sort of... emergency (she has a thing for losing/breaking keys) I wrapped a towel and headed for the door.
But who was at the door for real?
Not my sister... just some UPS guy.
Shit... aren't there like... pornos that start out this way?
I most nearly slammed the door in his face... but I decided to sign for the package (it was a big package... so I was curious as to what was inside).
I've never been so mortified (at least the towel was new... I would have killed myself had I been using one of our ghetto towels).

I wasn't even out of the shower when my sister let me in on some family news:
(screaming from the other side of the door)
Sister: Hey! Is it OK if we go see Ocean's 13 some other day?
Me: Yeah, sure (it's not like I want to see the damn thing. My Matt Damond crush was so 2003-2005!)
Sister: Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna go see Crazy-Driving-Cousin because she got a boob job.
Me: (internally) lalala... wait... (aloud)Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!
Sister: Exactly! That's what I said.
Me: How the... when the... whaaaat?!
Sister: She got 'em done Monday. I called her today to see if she wanted to come along to watch Ocean's 13 with us... and she was like "Oh, I can't. Hasn't anybody told you?" and I was like "No..." and she was like "I'm on bed rest" and I was like "Oh my God! What happened?! Are you ok?!" You know, thinking she got major surgery done or something. And just as I though "Shit, did she get a boob job?!" she goes "I got my boobies done!"
Me: Wowwwwwwwwwww! No wayyyyy.
Sister: Yeah... I know!
Me: Man... that shit ain't fair.
Sister: Tell me about it! Fuck it, man, I'm getting mine done, too!
Me: Fuck that, I'm the one with big boobs in this family!
Sister: Shit... I'm hitting the gym harder now.
Me: Shit... me too... fuck that, man... I'm getting a six pack. I'm motivated now... more than ever to be in go-go dancer shape. Fuck this.

Yeah. I never thought I'd be so pissed about one of my family members getting plastic surgery... but apparently I am.
I screamed "What?!" so much that I started to get light-headed.

I am curious to see what my cousin looks like, though. She was pretty flat-chested... and it was weirder when she was chubby... because flat-chested fat girls look weird like a motherfucker. She's thin now, and I didn't think her chest was a problem... I was a little envious, in fact... because in her size, she could buy cute bras anywhere. I hope she has fun buying lactating-mother bras now... because bras in the D range really suck. They're ugly and hard to find in this stripper-infested city.

Shit dude... my cousin (that I can still remember crawling around in my living room) got a boob job!

Can't wait to see what the rest of this day has in store for me (I better not end up in a cast or some shit)!

5 PM- Sister came back from visiting Crazy-Driving-Cousin and it turns out, she only got corrective surgery... but still, they were her boobs.
Sister accompanied CDC to the doctor and thanks to that, Little Sister no longer wants any sort of surgery.
I guess some good did come out of this wackiness.

However! I did get some more strange news that only helps make this day more memorable:
One of my friends, a dude I did have a crush on a while back (shit, I still sort of had it until about a month ago, when he did something that irritated me), has "finally jumped out of the closet" (I love how the person who told me this said "jumped out," it cracked me up).
I can't say I was shocked (he once dated one of my friends and then dumped her out of the blue. His excuse was that "she wasn't outgoing enough." We didn't understand, seeing as how the girl's a Spanish singing sensation. Now we know the truth... she just didn't have a penis)... but I was a little bummed. He's a cute boy... and very funny... and very cool... but he can be a self-absorbed jackass (I mean, he's capable of annoying me to the point where I lose all romantic interest in him. That takes a lot, seeing as how I'm constantly crushing on one guy or another).
Too bad.
But I still love him either way.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

No Siempre Me Quedaran...

Man, this day last year was so rad... to think of all the things I was doing then makes me a little sad.

My bruises are so freaking cool... I'm endeared to them now. I feel like a bad ass... but of course, I don't immediately tell people how I got them. I'll only say once they start freaking out thinking I'm in some sort of secret, abusive relationship.

Sister: Dude, you better not show people that shit... they're gonna start thinking you have some sort of violent boyfriend.
Me: Well, at least they'll finally think it's a boyfriend.

Anyway, I've been listening to a lot of music thanks to my sister. She got me into liking country music (I was never under the persuasion that it sucked--most of those singers have rappers beat by a fucking long shot-- I just never really found lyrics I liked), I returned the favor by introducing her to Spanish Rock.
While I only really like the country singers she likes, she has this thing for a Spanish rock singer I really don't like.

Her name's Bebe (well, that's her artistic name, because her real name is "Nieves"). She had this really popular song a year ago, about domestic violence (haha, I just realized this went well with my post because I was talking about fake domestic violence when it came to my bruises. Man, my brain works in weird ways).
I never got into the song much... just the last part where she starts to speed up and says something about "y ahora yo me fumo un cigarrito y te echo el humo en el corazoncito..." because I'd think "Damn, that'd really piss me off to have cigarette smoke blown into my heart! What an insult!"
She's also kind of rude. She's those really outspoken Spaniards who smoke like a chimney, and when told to please stop smoking because the place they're currently at is a smoke-free zone they'll totally flip and go psycho on you. I dunno... I just don't like smokers... especially the violent ones (she got into a fight with a Fire Marshall at one of her Los Angeles concerts. That's hardcore).
Anyway, my sister downloaded two songs from Bebe... and one I hated right off the bat (I'm not much of a fan of songs concerning masturbation... call me immature, but it's just not of my taste. I can't listen without laughing).
But there's this other song, Siempre Me Quedara, that I find myself listening to repeatedly:

Cómo decir que me parte en mil
las esquinitas de mis huesos,
que han caído los esquemas de mi vida
ahora que todo era perfecto.
Y algo más que eso,
me sorbiste el seso y me decían del peso
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío (Drives me insane how she doesn't say "convertido". Man, how you can tell she's from Spain!) en río.
De este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.

Me cuesta abrir los ojos
y lo hago poco a poco,
no sea que aún te encuentre cerca.
Me guardo tu recuerdo
como el mejor secreto,
que dulce fue tenerte dentro.

Hay un trozo de luz
en esta oscuridad
para prestarme calma.
El tiempo todo calma,
la tempestad y la calma,
el tiempo todo calma,
la tempestad y la calma.

Siempre me quedará
la voz suave del mar,
volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.
En la voz suave del mar,
en volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.

It's kind of sad... which makes my attempts of listening to happier music that much more difficult (because, once again, I'm not finding any happy songs that I dig besides that damn Springs Preserve song on that commercial; but that's not even a song!) .
I'm also not a fan of smokers-voices... but hers sounds so pretty in the song... and it makes me that much sadder (why is she making me change my standards?).

Damn Bebe, I must admit... you're good at what you do (you know... writing, singing... smoking).

Monday, June 4, 2007

Takin' it back (the AnoMALIE way).

Well, the clan has lost yet another member.
It's from Mom's side once again, but this time it was one of her first cousins from her Mom's side. The Garcia's (Yep, I too have that--most popular Latino last name in the U.S.--in my group of last names. I'm special enough to be able to go back to about my tenth last name) are now one more member short.
(Not all members are present, but that gives you a nice clue behind how many folks are part of the Garcia clan)
Shit, how things change in 3 years... although I seem to have remained the same. I'm in there somewhere... part of the Black Crew. Oh, how you could tell we're related! Well, except for that blonde chick. I always look at her like "Dude, you're related to me? How? You're gorgeous!" (not that my family's ugly. She's just movie-star beautiful)
Her family's the most attractive family of us all. I have crazy stories from each time I visit them in North Cal (maybe that explains their beauty). I'll just say the first one that comes to mind: the first time I saw them in ten years was absolutely traumatizing (this was... 2003 maybe, and it was my aunt's 80th birthday. Red lights should have gone off right there). Since I'm a girl, I look around the place and start picking out the cute guys from any party. Well, I only found two guys to be totally hot. They both had blue eyes, one was sort of geeky with black hair, the other was skater-ish cute with long-ish, curly, golden locks (when the latter came into the room, I swear I saw a bright burst of light as a light breeze played with his hair. I almost heard angels singing it was so bad ), and they were both pale, you know, white. I thought "Man, I love it when people bring their friends to parties! It gives me people to look at!" Well, the time came when auntie went on-stage and thanked her family for the party. She then called them up on stage by name. Guess who went up there... BOTH guys. Once I was informed of our relation, I screamed "But they're white boys!! I'm not supposed to be related to white boys!" Then I wanted to hide the rest of the night... as well as knock myself into a coma so that I might forget some of the shit I was thinking.

Anyway (let's forget that tangent), now I'm debating whether or not to go to the funeral... I didn't really know that guy, or his kids, since he lived in Yuma, Arizona. It's kind of weird to show up out of the blue like "Yo, sorry I never made it out here during the happy times like when y'all had your 50th wedding anniversary, or when that one girl had her Quniceañera, but I'm here to see y'all cry with grief." Plus, Arizona isn't a state I really enjoy visiting in the summer... unless it's me going through it to get to Mexico, then I gladly say hello to the place.
We'll see.

It's obvious that today hasn't been so great. Aside from that bummer of a newsflash... I also almost vomited today after eating sushi.
Yes. It appears the me-liking-sushi thing is now over. There was a Blue Moon in May, wasn't there? That explains it all.

Today, I had a Tootsy Maki roll...
(ain't that a cute bag? The Starbucks ain't mine. I definitely would have vomited had I drank coffee with the sushi)

and by the time I finished three fourths of the first roll, I told Mom "Get this thing out of my face before I throw it against the wall!"
Somehow, I couldn't get past the "I'm eating crab!" thoughts going on in my head. I kept telling myself "Relax, think of it as chicken... or a nice lemonade popsicle" but I constantly found myself answering back "It wouldn't smell like this!" and "Oh my God! What if I'm eating the crab's arm... or seminal receptacles? Ewwwwwww! Out of my mouth, you animal!"

I think I was dissuaded from liking sushi by a couple of people (I kid, I kid!).
But it's a bummer now that after telling Leky about being able to be his new sushi buddy, I must go back on my word and say something like "Well... do they have avocado rolls there?"

Oh, Ra, I guess... like with (me and) Biology, we were never meant to be.
(If anyone mentions eel sauce, I'm tossing my cookies)

Sunday, June 3, 2007


Man... I fucked myself up... man. I have this huge bruise... I've never had such a thing... pretty gnarly. It looks like I got hit by a car or some shit. It's all... man... I have so much blood up on that shit. Ahhhh! (That's just me spazing out) It's not painful... yet. I'm sure I'll be crying about it tomorrow
(Booo... I wanna die! If this is what childbirth is like, F-U-C-K T-H-A-T! etc, etc).
I'm just paranoid right now (Fuck... I better not let my mom see this or she'll forbid me from taking the class again! and Man... aren't bruises like... bad... like... can't the clot move on to the brain and cause some sort of stroke? Oh my God! I'm going to die!!), but that too passes.

Diosito... porfavor no deje que esto me afecte demasiado! Que solamente esté un poquito loquita... eso es todo... porfa!!

Anyway, let's get my mind off blacking out and suffering a stroke for a second (God, that bruise is so horrifyingly disgusting!) and let's talk about my day:

Beginning: I was woken up by Mom at 7:30 AM because she needed to take my phone on her ride over to Caliente, because apparently, only Verizon is available in them there yonder parts o' Nevada (Can you hear me now? No, you fuck, I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere... where prostitution is legal and beef jerky costs eight dollars a slab!). Mom has shitty-ass Cingular, so I had to live without my phone from 7:30 AM till around 6 PM (I never thought I'd be so happy to be a Verizon costumer. I was glad with my unlimited In-texts and In-minutes... and free long-distance... and free nights and weekends... OK, I was overall a very happy customer... but now knowing my phone works in the boondocks makes me that much happier).
Well, I also went to church... where there was some weird stuff going on (people are so weird when in hoards... very, very weird). It was super packed (I hate going Sunday mornings... it's so... I feel claustrophobic) and I got to sit next to 2 kids.
The kid closest to me was a girl around 5, and she kept looking at me and imitating me. I was cool with everything... until she started touching me (no, it wasn't a "bad touch"). Once that started, I made sure ample space was between me and the child, but not enough for another person to sit next to me (so what, I'm a jerk, ok?). I just get bad memories from this one child a couple months back that confused me for his mother. He stood next to me, hugged my leg, and his hand would go higher and higher. I didn't stop the kid when he hugged my leg, I mean, I did the same mistake as a child once (only it was a lady's arm), but once he started getting all... Curious-George-climbing-a-palm-tree on me, I had to pull him off (I'll be fucking damned if I let a 3-year-old molest me!) . When he realized I wasn't his mother, I felt bad for him... because he was genuinely upset... like "OMFG... I'm such a retarded ass perv!" Ok, maybe not like that, but I'm sure he'll look back on it as he gets older and think "Shit... I can't believe I did that..." (I know I look back on the arm-hugging incident and I start wishing for the sand to just... swallow me whole right then and there).

Middle: I went swimming at Chase's house... got burned, but had a good time. I then went to hula-hoop class... and freaking A, I got tore-up! No need to explain more... pictures may follow... if I ever get the cojones to take pictures of the disaster that is my right hip.

End: I went to the grocery store (I took a real nice gulp of a gallon of milk that was due on the 31 of May... NOT COOL). Now, I despise the grocery store... but I was so tired, Mom was able to get me to oblige.
There were these two bastard little kids that were being trouble makers. They each got a can of Cheese Wiz and poured it all over the store. They got ice-cream and left it out in every aisle... I mean, they were just little punk asses.
Nothing else was special, except for the end, where the cashier lady recognized me. I hadn't been to this particular store since... I don't know... February? But she was all up in my conversation.
I was bagging my groceries when the following occurred:
Cashier: Oh!! You cut your hair, Mama!
(Lalala... I hate groceries... lalala)
Cashier: When'd you cut it?!
(What the hell is she talking about? To whom?)
Cashier: I hadn't seen it like this! It looks wonderful!
(Oh... it is me... smile!)
Me: Oh, me? Yeah, I cut it.
Cashier: I love it, Mama!
Me: Aw, well.... thank you.
(Holy hell... how does she remember me?)

She continued asking questions... pretty loud (people were turning over at my aisle and trying to get a glimpse of me)... and I even gave her directions to the hair salon (and the name of my cousin). Of course, I never gave her the tip of: Don't you ever, ever, ever piss off the hairstylist... she'll fuck you up!
Nice lady. She'd never piss off the hairstylist, anyway.
The lady did make me feel like a celebrity for a second.

Maybe this would be my headline, which would in turn make me even more famous/recognizable:
Come one, come all!
AnoMALIE- Circus Freak (with nice hair) who fucks herself up Hula-Hooping with a four-pound hula-hoop! It's siiiiiiiiiiiiiick (positive, AND negative connotation!)!