Friday, August 31, 2007

Eye, Caramba!

I'm not very "girlie," and that's pretty obvious (I'm not a tomboy either... but I'm not so into makeup and dresses/skirts like some people would like me to be). However... I do have a thing when it comes to the eyes.
I really like messing with that stuff.
Eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner... pluckers... you name it... I'll experiment with that part of my face.

I used to have thin eyebrows when I first started plucking (who plucked them for me? Mom, obviously) back in 7th grade. Prior to that... while my brows weren't unibrows... they were pretty thick.
I guess that's probably the reason Mom went all drastic on me back in middle school and made my eyebrows basically non-existent.
I went around like this for about two years. Then the day came when I saw myself in a photo and thought "Holy cow!! What the hell! Oh my! I look like a bitch!"
I hated it.
So I let the brows grow... not to their natural state... but pretty close.
I've been like that since... eleventh grade.

A couple of months back I had made a comment on my eyebrows to Little Sister... something along the lines of:

"I'm seriously thinking about going old school with my eyebrows... like back in the day when I had those really thin eyebrows... but I really don't know if I should because they make me look mean..."
(and they do... they make me look like a conceited bitch ready to bark at you if you try and cross a word with me. It's bad!)

Little Sister (along with most of my female first cousins) became all excited.

"Yeah!! Do it! You looked pretty like that!!"

Which then leads me to say something like:

"What the fuck? What about now? Do I look like a fucking Yettie with these eyebrows? Like I have some damn... black caterpillars on my face or something? 'Makes me look pretty.' Fuck you, man... that's pretty backhanded."

Now, Mom never heard me say this, so she never put her two cents in like she loves to. Had she heard, she might have gone on and on. Why? Because she too has strong feelings towards brows (I found this out about two weeks ago... and today, again) .

All she ever did when Little Sister first plucked her eyebrows was complain about how tiny they were.
a)b)Exhibit A is Little Sister without makeup. Exhibit B is Little Sister with makeup.
I can understand why Little Sister would like me to join her in the Tiny Eyebrow Group... since she basically has a black line on top of her eyes that she considers eyebrows.
I'm not hating... that's her thing.
If she feels comfortable in that... more power to her.
I don't really do it because I don't really like the type of guy it attracts (she does).
Also... aren't "Mexican Girls" usually thought of as having really tiny, drawn-on eyebrows? Hardcore "Harlows."

I tried defending Little Sister... but you know... My style.
I pointed out Mom's eyebrows from a couple of photo albums Mom had lying around the house:
a)b)Exhibit A is Mom without makeup, and B is her with it (she looks super different in that picture... look at them brows... Jesus...). Not very different to Little Sister's. Little Sister just learned from her Momma (I on the other hand... learned from the television).

Anyway, I stopped insisting about the eyebrow thing once I went to Mexico.
I became pretty happy with my brows.

However, on our last Sunday in Mexico, I noticed Little Sister was missing a third of her right eyebrow.
She was messing with me... I think she may have been making fun of me (that's what we do to stay awake in church) and I finally mouthed off:
"At least I still have two eyebrows!"
Which led to her bothering me about which eyebrow was missing for the duration of mass.
Once outside, I directed her to the nearest car, shoved her face towards the side mirror and pointed at the eyebrow,

"You're now the proud owner of one and two thirds of an eyebrow. Congratulations. Next time, be a little more careful with the razor."

So Little Sister spent her last days in Mexico drawing on her right eyebrow.

Well, this led to some sort of... tiny trauma in her (she now double checks her eyebrows are balanced).
This only made Mom and me laugh.
Mom told Little Sister that she needed to go easy on her eyebrows... and probably let them grow out a little more.
I then jokingly said "Yeah... get them perfect like mine. Not too thick... not too thin."
That then led to mom saying "No... no... yours are too thick."
And Little Sister laughed and said the same thing.

I didn't really care... so I let that shit slip and totally forgot it ever happened.
As long as I don't have a unibrow, I feel I've done my job in keeping up with society's standards for acceptable brows.

Well, today, Mom... out of the blue... brought up the eyebrow conversation again.

She now wants me to make mine thinner.
She even told me how thin... how they should look (I guess this shit has been bothering her since Mexico... cause she had it all planned out like she had been studying my brows for months).
We talked about the damn thing for half an hour!
I tried convincing her my eyebrows were OK, and she tried explaining to me why they weren't.
Exhibit A is my brows without makeup... and B is with makeup.
Now... Little Sister and Mom need to add makeup in order for their brows to be visible (well, Mom no longer needs to because she got hers tattooed---how fucking Mexican, huh?-- which leads to another one of my arguments, but this time about tattoos. I tell her she has tats on her face... no other tattoo that I may want to get can be more hardcore than that)... I feel I don't even need to do that because, Hey! Look at that! AnoMALIE already has eyebrows!

But nooo... Mom feels my eyebrows are a little too "masculine."
Yes. Masculine.

Now that I think about it... Cristiano Ronaldo may have slightly thinner brows than me... just... maybe.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Part Deux:

School has started up for me, once more (and for the final time! Shit. Ok... maybe not the last time... in case I do go to grad school), and so I fear I must complete this "Where in the World is Henry David Thoreau the Gnome" series ASAP... before I get too caught up in the crying and complaining that is my school life.
Here we go, picking up where we left off... part two, of the two part series of "Where in the World is Henry David Thoreau the Gnome", enjoy:

(So you might note HDT is missing here. Yeah... that. Well, like I said before, girls were scarce in Mexico this summer... so I constantly found myself hanging out with teenaged boys. These boys would be cool to me... but they harassed the shit out of my poor HDT. The harassing got to the point where they hijacked him from me... and then only handed me the hat--hat that was originally glued to his head! I believe the day I took this picture I was walking over to the local "tiendita" aka "little store" to buy the boys a "mangonada" aka blended mango-with-chile-and-limon homemade Popsicles. Why, you ask? How the fuck else would I get my gnome back? I took this picture to keep track of those fucked up three days he was "missing." I took about 7 pictures like that. I looked crazy... but... whatever. The little alley in this picture is where I've bumped into two live snakes before... one was tiny... the other one had me shitting bricks... yet I still walk through that place. I'm an idiot, I know)

(HDT is sitting next to me in my uncle's truck. We had to borrow it to travel to some even-more-recluse town up in even-higher-mountains. While I really dig those rock fences seen in the background--you find some creepy lizards you can play bullseye with-- I mainly added this photo to show how I got my little guy back. See how his hat is all ill-fitted? Those teenaged boys would do that to him... making him look like some... tiny, fat, cholo or something. Pshhh)

(HDT is in the room I spent wayyyy too much time in this summer: the bedroom [and not in the good sense. No, no... I was in there crying... listening to music... forcing myself to sleep... you name it. NEVER was it pleasant in there. Never.]. See that door back there? That was my only form of ventilation! Did I mention we don't have air conditioning over in Mexico? Well, we don't. I had to have the bedroom door open so that the backyard door could ventilate the room... and my grandma slept in there [as did Mom... she slept in the bed with me... so it only made the room hotter]... so do you now see why I would freak the fuck out at night? And don't you love the prison feel those doors give? Yeah... lovely... and Tyson loved smacking his tail on the door... and that would make it so damn hard to sleep sometimes. Anyway, HDT's standing next to my all-time favorite chips: Takis, Fuego con Limon flavor. Mmmmmmm. Yeah. Almost made me forget I hated that fucking room)

(HDT's in the living room--atop the little... what are they called... the old-school wooden stands where you put your television--, posing next to the roses from our garden. This makes me wish the photo was a scratch and sniff... those flowers smell SO damn good--and that lip gloss in the lower right hand corner ain't bad either: Passion Fruit... yumm! He's also standing near my brother's phone... which was pointless to take to Mexico since TelMex has a damn monopoly down there and no other companies get service. There's also my iPod that never left my side... along with 19-year-old Casanova's PSP. He may have been a little annoying with his little "love" overtures [he sang to me once as we were both stuck in the camper of my Dad's truck for half an hour... 80's love songs... as well as "Friends in Low Places" by Garth Brooks... which only made me wonder "WTF, kid? WTF?"] towards me... but if me being nice to him and doing things like... visiting his house and eating his mom's brownies, meant him allowing me to borrow such wonderful gadgets, then shit, I did it gladly... I even started requesting songs...)

(HDT's lying on the living room floor... next to a dead Garter Snake and the broom stick Mom used to smash its head in. Yes... cruel... seeing as how the little snake was kind of cute. It committed a fatal mistake by entering our house... and it wriggled a little too crazy for Mom's liking and she just said "Fuck you, you ain't getting near my Momma, you tiny mothafucka!" as she was sweeping, and bam, it took one quick blow for Mom to crush the snake's head with the broom stick. Mom has crazy good aim... I get any and all tomboy traits from her, not dad [he only knows about cars and I know jack about cars, except how to change a tire, I'm good at that]. Mom can throw rocks, play marbles, punch, shoot, stab, kill pigs, etc. better than most guys. Mom might be able to teach Bear Grylls a thing or two, shit. After this, Mom took the dead snake outside to this huge anthill and we watched the ants get all excited and bring the little snake into their home... my mom's so cool sometimes. I should have gotten a shot of that, too... but I don't like ants and their dumb little pheromones)

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen... my trip... summed up through Henry David Thoreau the Gnome (yes, named after the transcendentalist AND the Nickelodeon gnome of the late 80's-early 90's... don't think I've forgotten about that guy, he--along with Maya the Bee-- taught me how to play nice with other little kids, as well as like nature... and he made me want to be a vet but then I grew up and said "F' that!").
Took me damn long enough.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Finally! A new pad!

You know you're a cheap-skate when you buy yourself a 5 dollar sketchbook and you act like you just bought yourself a laptop.- Little Sister

I filled up my old sketchbook of 5 years back in October... and I had tried settling for its bigger version ever since.
While the larger version is cool... and I have used it to make larger drawings... nothing beats the smaller doodles.

I can finally satiate my desire to doodle without having to whip out a huge, super-noticeable note pad.

So when I noticed the sketchpad at OfficeMax today, I practically skipped all the way to the cash register.
Little Sister doesn't understand how such simplistic b.s. makes me happy.

Frankly, neither do I
(I guess I'm like... super Mexican-Farmer or something).

Saturday, August 25, 2007


I had a dream about Mexico last night.
OK... I miss the damn place... so what?

Which reminds me, Chase, here's my first installment of "Where in the world is Henry David Thoreau the Gnome?" That little bastard has more photos taken in Mexico than I do!
Anyway, answers will be given at the bottom of each picture.

(Didn't I tell you, my brother has a gift for ruining pictures. Not only was the sun rising, but so was my bro's glorious middle finger. Just his way of expressing his feelings toward both HDT and me as we drove through Sierra Vista, Arizona at 6 in the morning on July 19th)

(This is my favorite gas station in Chihuahua, Chihuahua, Mexico. It's eerily clean... like... it always smells like bleach in their bathroom... and yeah... I spend no more than 3 minutes in there. Also... this reminds me of how much my brother loved filling up in Mexico--sarcasm there. They had this new little habit this summer: Us regular plebes, you know, the drivers, are NOT allowed to pump our own gas--hey, I'm not complaining-- so the workers fill up for you. They've never been honest... they used to play this fucked up trick where they had a button that would automatically add 100 pesos to the actual amount owed. Well, this year they stopped that shit, but instead, they'd never top off the tank. If 500 pesos fit perfectly fine in the tank, the workers would pump 450 pesos and then expect those extra 50 pesos as tip. This in turn, would piss off my brother... and he'd NEVER give them a tip. "Buddy, I would have given you the 50 pesos had you been honest with me in the first place, and just done what I asked... FILLED UP THE TANK!")

(My backyard in Mexico, where Tyson is still able to roam around in DIRT and GRASS, not CEMENT. Also, while everyone and their mother fears my awesome baby, Tyson, HDT does not. HDT's just proving to the world what sweet creatures pitbulls are, and how they prefer to eat regular dog food... not human/gnome flesh... or other dogs. Fuck you, Mike Vick! FUCK. YOU.)

(On the way to an Internet Cafe. He's just showing us what a damn freaky ass ride--to the left of the photo, it's this huge drop to a river, but you can't tell how bad it really is-- I must take in order to reach civilization. However, this photo does not serve the road justice... since I didn't manage to capture a photo with a) one of those gnarly car wrecks between old school cars that always manages to kill at least one person, or b) huge logging trucks getting into our lane--like they're known best for doing. I just like those ominous clouds in the background.)

(HDT is standing infront of my favorite mountain... the mountain I dream about so often, "El Cerro Chato." To the right of the photo--and not visible, just that one part of the fence-- is my house in Mexico. And that adobe house to the left has SO many rats... I no longer fear those fuckers... they just make me angry. The gray house over HDT's left shoulder had a ton of pigeons living in it... it was quite frustrating to be woken up by Tyson barking at them--he hates pigeons more than I do-- or when it rains very hard and I can hear the drops hitting the tin roof... yeah, tin roof!! The straight dirt path is where this one ghost appears. In the late 70's, his throat was slashed one day as he was walking back home from a dance. The killers then placed his body on the train tracks--not very visible, but they're that part where the sand gets whitish at the end of the road-- so that it would appear that the guy had fallen asleep--drunk, obviously-- on the tracks and then gotten his head crushed by the train. Now, the dude walks up and down the street, supposedly asking for help. Mom, me, and Little Sister saw him three years ago at 3 in the morning as we were packing to leave to Vegas--yeah, we do that so we can be completely ready to leave at 5 in the morning of that same day, and so people can be like "wow, we didn't even see them packing!"-- We didn't know it was a ghost until someone else told us the year later-- they described what he was wearing and everything, I almost pissed my pants when I was told. Freaky shit, however, this is probably my favorite picture of the whole summer. It makes me sigh and miss Mexico, as stupid and boring as the place may be... and that dirt sure smells pretty when it rains!)

(Final picture of the day: I've gotten HDT in a... I guess gut-lock with my "monstrous" calf. The shit I did to entertain myself on Sunday afternoons. And look! I was wearing a dress in my yellow Mexico kitchen!! Very un-lady-like of me to do... but fuck it... it sure beat slitting my wrists vertically. That day some lady approached me in church and whispered in my ear "AnoMALIE, este año te ves mas hermosa que nunca," roughly translated to "AnoMALIE, this year you look more beautiful than ever!" How the hell do you respond to that? I just raised my eyebrows, smiled, and backed away slowly. In church, dude, CHURCH!)

Friday, August 24, 2007

Reasons why I'll miss my brother:

I always complain about my brother... but when he leaves, I miss the punk ass.
Here's why:

He knows how to entertain me:

(That is all he would do while in Mexico. You'd swear it were a real World Cup match. He'd get so into the game... I just had to laugh... at both people playing. My only complaint is that not once did they ever play as Portugal... not once!)

His determination inspires me: (he managed to get 6 prickly-pears, but also about 50 cactus needles stuck on his left nipple--he's complaining to me about it in the second picture-- but he was still going after those prickly-pears. And he was doing this shit immediately after we got bummed the fuck out by visiting my grandpa's burial site... so I guess I gotta add "his ability to make me laugh during sad moments" as one of the things I'll miss)

He knows how to make my friends feel silly... or you know... just bad:(Here he made us all put our plates of food in front of *Singing Sensation* to make any photos of her look like she's one big ol' glutton. Luckily, Singing Sensation just laughed it off)

Without fail, he knows how to ruin a nice shot:(I don't understand his fascination with looking retarded in pictures... he's done it since he was about... 5)

He may drive while slightly tired, but he has yet to roll us off a mountain top... or get in any sort car wreck for that matter:
(This is a clear example of how I manage to wake people up... and why I'm such a desirable co-pilot: I'll be taking a shitload of pictures which in turn will eventually annoy the shit out of you... and you really can't fall asleep when annoyed, now, can you? Anyway, I love the fact that my brother will drive his ass off to get us some place a lot sooner than later... and on the real, he's a very safe driver)

I hate how I'm such a bitch to him when he's with us (like in Mexico... I think I called him "moron," "cabron," "pendejo," "estupido," "Dumb fuck," "bitch," and countless other names around 20 times each... I may have called him by his real name maybe 3 times)... but once he walks out that door to head on over to Indiana, I'm such a little wimp...
He's been gone for a day now, and I'm still bummed out he's gone for the semester.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Cheers, to the worst summer ever:

Being that Summer is virtually over for me, and I have yet to recapitulate my stay in Mexico (I had planned to do it with pictures and such, but that would take a long time... and I don't really want to pour so much time into this since I've been in a "I love my Big Brother" mood. Kid's leaving tomorrow... so this past week I've been hanging out with him and being very sisterly to him... you know, by like, screaming at him and stuff... calling him a monster when he downs 8 rolls of sushi at the sushi buffet.. etc, etc), I've decided to post a survey I recently did to explain the jist of my summer break:

1. Did you hookup this summer?
Hook up? Playa, please! Does it sound like something this girl would do? Pshhhhh.

2. Go on vacation?
I wouldn't call it a vacation... it was just... me out of the country for a month. Vacation it was not.

3. Spend the night in a hotel?
ummm... I think that would be a negative... yeah, negative.

4. Did you go to any camps?
As in what little kids are sent to by their parents for the summer? No. I've never gone and I fear it might be too late for me.

5. Did you go swimming at all?
YESSS! And I got one sweet ass tan. For the first time in my life, I arrived to Mexico darker than when I departed.

6. Did you get heartbroken?
Ummm... not in the conventional sense (some guy making me cry, yada, yada, yada). Mexico broke my heart, BIG TIME.

7. Any fights with friends?
this summer was sweet when it came to friends. I did not fight once with anyone, really.

8. Was your birthday over the summer?
Hell nah. Then that would make me an outgoing person... which I'm not. I'm a calm March baby.

9. Did you go to any parties over the summer?
of course, I'm Mexican.

10. Did you go to any beaches over the summer?
Not this year, although I had this strong desire to go to one, out of the blue, around May/June.

11. What illegal things did you do?
I can honestly say everything I participated in this summer was legal... no, wait... we crossed way more liquor over the border than permitted... we just never admitted to carrying so much. "We have some bottles in the back" was translated as "We have two bottles in the back" by the customs officers. Not my fault.

12. Did you get any haircuts?
In July I snipped my hair a little.

13. Did you go over your minutes?
Never. I didn't even use my phone for a month.

14. Did you go shopping?
Did I!!

15. Did you dye your hair?
Nope. Haven't done so in years... but I might start because while in Mexico I found a gray hair smack dab in the front of my head... which upset the shit out of me.

16. Sing?
Wooooooooo. I even sang along with *FamousGirl*("Yeah!!!" was practically all I said... but hey, no one else was helping her out. Wankers.)

17. Did you go to a barbeque?
I... yes, I did. Originally it was going to be an outdoor thing, but it rained that day, so it turned to this indoor thing where I sat in the living room and watched some Chris Angel program, as well as Jeopardy, because I was missing the U.S. and English television. I also didn't eat anything, so it was kind of pointless.

18. Any friends really piss you off over the summer?
one person pissed me off to the point where I wanted to punch her, but I held back because I'm civilized. ha. Also because had I hit this person, her family would probably hate me forever, and that I would not be able to stand.

19. What time did you usually go to bed?
around 2 in the morning. A girl's gotta watch her novelas (it did suck though, because they switched off the satellite providing the Univision channel at 1:30AM... and my favorite soap opera ended at 2AM. That soap's final episode was on the 9th of this month... so for the freaking second time in my life, I missed the last 30 minutes of the final episode of the soap. I have yet to know how that fucking thing ends... after 5 fucking years of waiting. Stupid Mexico and their hillbilly ways of shutting off the satellite for the night. Apparently they don't have insomniacs over there)

20. What was the latest you ever stayed up over the summer?
this one time I stayed up 'til around 6AM because I was worried out of my mind.

21. What time did you usually wake up?
11 AM because I always wanted to catch the last hour of "Hoy." I freaking love that program.

22. Most memorable things about this summer?
The movie nights... hanging out in Tepehuanes... the Pizza in El Rincon.... that stupid ass "lunada" that never came to be... gym time... swimming while gossiping... overall, the people I hung out with... they were awesome, every single one.

23. Who did you meet this summer?
I met Marisa, the girl who hates the word "poop" and any references to taking a shit as "going number two." I also was introduced to two boys my sister's been cool with for a while, no, make that three. I had the pleasure of hanging out with one of them for a while (funny guy. I'll think of him as "Molasses-Flavored Jelly Bean" forever. He, on the other hand, will remember me forever as "Frost-Bite girl").

24. Did you have a job over the summer?
I sort of took care of my grandma... in the sense that I had to sit there with her for hours whenever Mom had to run errands... which always happened to be at the good times of the day. I guess you could say I was a nanny... made sure grandma didn't grab any sharp object... open any doors where a big scary dog might be found... that sort of stuff (I tried talking to her... but she'd ignore me-- "It's because I'm tan, isn't it?"--. I gave up after a while)

25. Lose something this summer?
YES!!! 200 pesos and it fucking ruined my night!! You know how much shit I could have bought with 200 pesos? Sure, it's less than 20 bucks, but shit... in Mexico it takes you a long way! Stupid baggy pants...

26. Did you go to any ice cream places?
Yes siree Bob. Did I buy any? No (what the fuck was wrong with me this summer?). Hold on, I did have ice cream in Carreras, so I wasn't that off-kilter.

27. Did you get sick?
sort of. I had a tiny cold for a while.

28. Go to the lake?

29. How about a mountain?
Tepehuanes/Santiago is ALL mountain... let's not forget the road to Tepehuanes... that shit's ALL scary ass Sierra.

30. What was the most expensive restaurant that you went to over the summer?
Hahaha... I think Costa Brava takes this. My brother nearly had a heart attack when he saw how expensive shrimp cocktails were.... but it was still cheap... I suppose.

31. Have you gotten your schedule for school yet?
yep. I worked it over the last couple of days.

32. Are you pleased with it?
I suppose. I'm taking two classes just for the hell of it. I'm reluctant to admit my journey's almost over. I guess you can say I'm in denial.

33. Are you afraid of school honestly and what might happen?
A tiny, itsy-bitsy, almost-insignificant amount. I fear what the hell I'm going to do next. I'm going to be one of those confused graduates who just kind of stand there like "WTF?"

34. Do you have any doubts in the back of your mind on whether or not you'll still be good friends with your old ones?

35.Are you going to the same school as last year?
yes... much to my dismay.

36. Have you started practices for sports, band, theatre etc. for school already?
hahaha.... riiight.

37. Did you go see any new movies in the theatre?
June/July I watched them in actual movie theaters... in Mexico we watched bootleg copies of the movies that were still in theaters... which was fun.
(Day 1)
Godson: Shut the fuck up with your transformers, already! We watched that yesterday!
(Another day)
Diego: Oye... lesss wassshhh "Trasssformersss!"
19-year-old-Casanova: Next time I hear you say 'Transformers,' I'm kicking your ass, DiegA!
(another day)
19-year-old-Casanova: What should we watch today? And NO, NO TRANSFORMERS!
Diego: Hey! Hey! Hey! Let's watch.... Trasssformerssss!
Everyone: NO!!!
Oh, the memories.

38. What was the most serious conversation you had about?

39. Anything personality wise and/or physically change this summer?
sort of.

40. Was this summer better than last summer?
Hell to the motherfucking NO

And now, for a picutre that pretty much sums up my feelings about Summer 2007:
(I took that picture on my 5th day of being in Mexico. I like the picture because--and most of these were unintentional how they fell in the picture--: The little green thing in the upper right hand corner is a flyswatter in the shape of a hand. That thing entertained me for hours... I'm now a fly-killing machine... sort of. To the left are the ear phones to my iPod... had I not brought it... I probably would have died... from self-inflicted wounds... or like... jumping off the town bridge. Henry David... well... that little guy got tossed around like... well, he got tossed around. He made a lot of us laugh... and he's in the majority of my pictures. That book... fuck it.... stupid molecular biology.... fuck. it. The notebook I used to keep score of the couple of Hearts games we played whenever it was raining outside, and hence, all the kids had to stay indoors. And that table that's underneath it all... well... I spent more time sitting there cussing at my luck, banging my head against it, crying my ass off from exasperation, annoyance, sadness, etc... I get sad just looking at that stupid, oh-so-Mexican tablecloth design-- notice Mom still has the plastic cover on top. OH. SO. MEXICAN.)

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Medicinal, my ass!

I've mentioned many times on here that I'm quite the gullible imbecile.
Here's another example why:

My godson, this wonderful kid: (That day in Mexico was pretty fun... even if I only ate a chicken taco... God, I hate eating)
He's quite the example of good breeding.
Back in elementary and middle school, he was the top student not only of his school and district, but of the entire state he lives in (Durango, in Mexico). Once high school came around the corner, he became more interested in the ladies... and while his grades haven't slipped, he isn't THE smartest kid in his grade (he's friends with this one boy who won some sort of national math competition).

Well, I know this little fact of his smarts not diminishing, per se, just... lessening... but still, whenever he tells me something relating to nature i.e. everything on roosters (his dad's quite popular when it comes to rooster breeding. He has international fame-- I say that because he's known of in the Philippines, haha), snake breeding season (usually the time I'm down in Mexico... stupid ugly ass scary snakes), or the healing powers of plants, I'll believe him wholeheartedly.
The latter I want to dive into a little deeper.

During the first week and a half of August, I hung out with this one girl that's from Cabo San Lucas and was down visiting my little Mexican town because her best friend is from there (the singing sensation I've mentioned once or twice in here). This girl was very, very cool. She cracked me up because she was terribly outgoing... and did crazy shit to amuse us all.

Well, this girl had this huge wart on her left index finger that was the first thing you noticed if she ever made a fist because it's on the right side of the finger.
We all know how fond I am of warts... but this girl, knowing full well the wart was something not very attractive to me (but it wasn't like I stared at the thing either... I didn't even acknowledge it)... made a joke out of it. I mean... I never met anyone that made me laugh because of the way they treated their wart, but she sure changed that.

So this chick, as fond as she may have been of her wart, was also looking for a way to get rid of it.
That's where my godson comes into play.

Oh! Have you heard of ciricua? It gets rid of warts and also heals deep cuts without hurting any other part of the skin.
Cabo Girl: Really? I wanna try it! You guys have some really weird healing tricks I'm stoked to try out!
Godson: It's this leaf that burns the wart off.
Cabo Girl: Burns?... OK, I'll do it anyway.
Godson: Don't get freaked out when you see what it does to your skin...
Cabo Girl: O...K. When are we doing this?
Godson: I have to go out and look for it in the sierra... so maybe... in two days?
Me: I wanna do it!
Cabo Girl: You have a wart?
Me: Not really... but I wanna see if it fixes two of my fingers!
Godson: Don't worry Madrina (godmother), I'll get you some too.

So it was settled.
However, my godson managed to find the plant when it was too late for Cabo Girl. She left last Thursday from Mexico, and it was last Saturday when my godson found and brought me the plant.
He came over to the house, two of his fingers wrapped with bandaides, and showed me the leaves. He asked to see where I wanted to place them... and seeing as how the areas were small (my right thumb and my left ring finger), he said he'd do it before we started watching "Pan's Labyrinth" and take it off once it was over... to make it two hours that I'd have the plant on my finger.
He smashed the leaf on my fingers, made me get him two bandaids to cover the leaf as it rested on my finger, made me wet the finger to get the area a little humid... and smashed the bandaid with his nail to make the plant secrete more juice.
He then told me I was going to feel it burning me as time went on, but to not mind it.

Ok... so the first hour it was alright... I was expecting to feel the flames of hell or some shit, since I noticed my godson was scratching like crazy the place where he had the leaves placed.
Instead, I felt an occasional tingling going on in my thumb, but nothing on the ring finger.

Then I saw what my fingers were going to look like... why? Because my godson removed his bandaides and washed off his fingers.

They were black.

Godson: Yeah... your fingers are going to be stained black wherever the leaves touched... but don't worry... nothing bad happens to your healthy skin... just the wart.
Me: What the hell?! You mean I'm going to have to walk around with black fingers? I have church tomorrow! And how long does this damn shit last?!
Godson: I don't know... my mom didn't tell me that.
Me: Shit... there's a lot of shit your mom doesn't tell you.

Even after that exchange, and against my better judgement... I left the damn bandaides on for another hour.
By the time I was washing off the leaf juice, I was burning like a motherfucker and my fingers were super black... and not to mention getting blistered! (Photo taken about three hours after removing the bandaides. You can't really notice it, but my nail was starting to turn purple/yellow)

Regardless of the unsightliness, I thanked my godson... and believed every word he said.
Godson: The wart's just going to fall off... like... crumble.
Me: Wow... amazing. Mexican medicinal plants are the shit!

Well, ladies and gentlemen... they're not!!!
It's been a fucking week, exactly... and my fingers are still black... my thumb still has a blister the size of... an extra thumb... and nothing has "crumbled" off.
That Sunday I found out you were only supposed to leave the leaves on for 15 minutes.
I had it on for two hours!
(Photo taken as Godson and I looked outside the Internet Cafe window while we waited our turn for an open computer. Hand to the right is mine, the one with the fucked up middle finger is my godson's hand)
I've had to carry on this past week like some damn... black plague carrier... or frostbite victim... constantly putting on bandaides if coming into contact with another human is required that day in order to hide the unsightliness of my fingers.

The worst was on Thursday, while I was making the trip back to the U.S. My thumb swelled to its biggest level that day. I went as far as putting on a bandaid five minutes before crossing the border... out of fear that the border patrol officers would become suspicious of my condition and not allow me entrance to my own country until a certain amount of days in quarantine... and I have school to attend Monday... so fuck that shit.
In order to go to church today, I had to place bandaides on both fingers so people wouldn't be frightened to shake or hold my hand.

Ah, my godson... such a sweet kid... but he fucked his godmother up good (I feel the liquid in my blister shake whenever I move my thumb around... it's so damn gross and painful. Stupid Ciricua plant).
(picture taken today, like... right now)

Friday, August 17, 2007

Ya llego, ya llego!

(I have Dad to thank for my inability to properly read and follow instructions--"tear here? Why did they print that on the bag? Hmm.. Oh well, I'm biting it down over here"--… but I was so tired and anxious to have something to eat during my trip, I just tore the hell out of that bag not giving a shit about any sort of instructions… plus… I fucking love those little snacks. Buy me the Strawberry or Cherry kind and I’ll love you for ever… buy me the Mixed Berries kind and… hell, I’ll give you my first born! Ok, maybe not that—what would you want with a newborn anyway?—but I would probably become your slave for a determined amount of time)

The drive here was nowhere near as brutal as the December drive.
The trip took 21 hours (left Thursday morning at 4AM Vegas time, got here today at 1AM Vegas time)… and that included a tiny detour in Chihuahua and Arizona (checked out the town Older Brother was stationed for most of his active duty—Sierra Vista/Fort Huachuca)… and the four times we were stopped by some sort of law enforcement: once by the AFI—the Mexican version of the FBI--, twice by Mexican soldiers (one of the times one of the soldiers began flirting with me after he made me step out of the vehicle while they checked for drugs. It was strange… it was all formal and weird… like flirting with… an uncle or some shit. Here’s how it went:
Soldier: Yeah, it’s a good thing to stretch your body.
Me: [Smile… stop stretching… scratch your head now... stand still]
Soldier: Where did you come from? : sort of whispering:: Heaven?
Me: Excuse me, sir? [What the fuck was that?]
Soldier: What part of Mexico are you coming from?
Me: Durango, sir. [Home of the badasses. Smile]
Soldier: What part of Durango?
Me: Tepehuanes [I’ll be damned if I give you the exact location… you’ll have us standing out here longer].
Soldiers: The girls from those parts are very attractive.
Me: [Smile… shrug… look over at Little Sister]
Soldier: Where are you guys headed? Let me guess: [Name of a big city near the border]
Me: [Helllllllllllllll no! Fuck border towns!] Las Vegas, sir.
Soldier: Las Vegas? The place of the “Table Dances?”
Me: [laugh, moron, he has an AK47… or whatever that weapon is… fuck it… what’s important is that he can shoot me if he pleases] So I’ve heard, sir),
and the final time by border patrol… where the officer working the booth was taking his job WAYYYY too seriously (he was the only one sending EVERY SINGLE car to get searched and inspected by dogs… every single car. When the officer doing the searches saw our truck, he was first intrigued, but when he saw our dog… and the little bit of luggage we had, he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Poor guy was fed up with his fellow officer that kept sending all the cars to get searched. I didn’t mind the officer running the search, though… he was hot and he could have asked me any questions for as long as he pleased… ha).

I managed to stay awake for the entire trip… I just started getting very tired once we passed Wickenburg… stupid desert.
If it weren’t for those little Fruit Snacks, I probably would have fallen asleep and left my poor brother to drive in complete silence… with all three of his passengers enjoying a nice nap.

I’m glad to be back… my “vacation” was anything but. It made me grouchy… tired… annoyed… kind of sad… paranoid (I keep acting like my grandma’s still in the room and I find myself modifying my behavior. I can’t even burp without thinking “Fuck, grandma’s here! How rude of me!” or listen to music out loud “Oh no! I shouldn’t be listening to music since we’re still grieving my grandpa… and here I’m making poor grandma listen to… wait… I’m in Vegas now. No more need to sneak in music time using my iPod.”), and everything else that’s bad.
Yes… I did get to hang out with people I rarely see because they live scattered all over the U.S. and Mexico… but it was still very strange… I never felt at home… I never felt comfortable and relaxed like other years… and I definitely felt my grandfather’s absence (I went to the cemetery on my second to last day there, and upon reaching his grave… where a tombstone is yet to be placed… I couldn’t believe it. I just stared at the mound of dirt with the dried up flower wreathes and couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that my grandpa, the man I thought would live past his 100’s just to continue pissing me off with his weird/fucked up antics, was under there. El Señor from last summer, shit, from December… was under there… unable to hear me apologize for being a bitch all these year… and not able to hear me thank him for the wonderful early years of my life… where he made everything so… so special and out of this world for me and all his little grandkids. Crazy shit).

I have more to talk about… a lot more… but I’m tired… and this post was too long.
Point is: I’M HOME!! (Although, fuck, did I get a nice surprise when I stepped out to the backyard this morning: Dad put cement all over the backyard… it’s now practically all cement (imagine… a fucking half acre completely covered in cement… what the fuck?! What is this? A fucking shopping mall?)… gives the place a nice little prison feel. My poor dog no longer has his little place under the fig tree to keep cool… why? Because it’s now all motherfucking cement! FUCK.THAT.)

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

...hits the windshield

Today I saw a vulture get run over. One of the coolest things ever. It flew in the air... but not in the way nature intended.
Pretty rad.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Gnarly accidents

I've taken to saying this after almost every sentence:
"holy moly!!"

That came out of my mouth about three times on Sunday when I witnessed a car crash where one dude was dead... his skull all over the "highway" and blood was pooled in this very weird shape. It was absolutely gross... but crashes here are so freaking gnarly... I just can't stand NOT to watch. It was this old ass truck from like the 70's with this small black car from like the 80's and they crashed against a huge moutain. it was awesome... and sad. I had front row seats to gawk.

I watched El Laberinto del Fauno last night... and at the end I just couldn't stop crying. Kind of pathetic... but that movie was pretty rad... no, very rad. I love Spanish movies.

Another thing: That 19-year-old boy is one of the smoothest people I've come to know. It doesn't work on me (I'll catch him in the middle and yell out something like "you little douche bag! I almost believed you on that one" but yeah... he's good) but I'm sure it works on others.

Saturday, August 4, 2007


Last night I saw the weirdest shit:
So drugs have totally taken over the youth of my touwn, right? And there's this one boy I've been cool with since he was 13 and I was 16. Well, now he's a grown man and he loves cocaine.
Well, last night there was a quinceañera and this boy was all coked out. His pops was as well... and so they were speeding... down the side of a mountain (cause we're hicks like that) and the father almost fell off the road. His son, aka my friend, then became bewildered and punched a hole through his father's truck's window... and borke his hand... and he was bleeding... and all he was doing was laughing and saying "hmm... my hand sort of hurts... ahahaha" to which my little sister and cousins just sort of looked at like "alright... stay with me ·boy· stay still"
The whole time I was hearing Mr. Mackey (whatever way it's spelled) saying "drugs are bad... mmkay?"

Question: how do you tell a boy, who's been the proud owner of an AK-47 way before he was born that all you wanna be is friends?

Also... my little sister's a nosey biaaaaaatch!