OK... maybe not Hell..

So I might have exaggerated just a little bit... no, not exaggerated... I just panicked too soon.

The following day after freaking out and posting my last blog, I finally did something interesting.
I've been friends with these two boys (part of the crew I hang out with now... a pair of brothers that are only 10 months apart... CRAZY shit) since they were 4 and 3 respectively. I sort of hung out with the 4 year-old more because I was only 7, so I could carry him around like a little doll and I could make him catch huge butterflies with me while we were down here in Mexico (the 3 year old was more into eating... so I never hung out with him till recently that he blossomed into a very attractive man-boy).
Anyway... these boys are "special" in the way that their now deceased (if my spelling sucks ass, sorry, it's just that I can't rely on the spell check since everything in damn Mexico is in Spanish and sometimes I'm like "What the fuck does tha mean??") dad used to be a Cartel leader... and I'm talking BIG-TIME leader.
Their dad got whacked back in 2002 while he was shopping with one of his hoes (it made international news and everything). However, they told the kids that he died in a car accident (like most kids get told... since my part of Mexico is where most cartel leader live and all that bullshit. kind of cool... kind of annoying as well... anyway, kids have to be told all these wack ass stories whenever their dad's/older siblings end up dead in some ditch or something)
Soooooooo... the whole drug-dealer/drug-lord talk is hush-hush whenever we hang out (you have no idea how awkward that is) with these boys.

The older brother, now 19... has been... well... hanging out with me a lot. He's doing some sort of player shit with me... I guess trying to win me over or something (keep in mind there are maybe 10 girls in town now... so I guess I'm the lucky chosen one for him. Why? I have no clue... I tell myself it's because I'm just that awesome... when in reality he probably chose me because I have the biggest boobs or something). It's weird because I've seen him like a little brother forever... so all his romatic gestures freak me out... slightly gross me out. haha (and here I called his younger, food-loving brother an attractive man-boy... I wouldn't mind the 18-year old hitting on me... just not the one who actually chose me).
Anyway, as a way to win me over, the 19-year-old asked me what movie I really, really wanted to watch. Me, being a bitch, thought of one I wouldn't imagine him having.
Alright... I wanna see... The Boondock Saints.
Lo-and-behold... he owns it.
I went to his house (AWESOME, super rad house... biggest in town that you can see from the "high-way" and only a lucky few can enter it.... but photos in there are prohibited. Crazy shit) and took my godson (17), my godmom's son (18) and my brother (23) with me. The 18-year-old man-boy was there.
So we all went to their personal theater room thingy (needless to say, that place was fucking awesome) and 19-year-old boy prepared everybody drinks. Guess who got the loaded drink... the only girl, of course.
I didn't drink, obviously (I'm not that much of a retard)... but I probably should have... just because it was so awkward to sit there and watch a movie about dudes killing mafia people while in the company of the offspring of a now-dead mafia boss.

That acticity probably ranks as an 8 out of 10 in my "Awkward Moments" category... a 9 out of 10 in "Man, this is comfortable shit!" moments... and a damn 15 out of 10 in "Fucking Awesome!!" moments.

Totally off-topic... sort of, because it still deals with Mexico: I have found a way to entertain my grandmother and keeping her away from my dog. What is it?
POKER!!
I never knew my grandma loved that shit...
She can't play... since she says she forgot how it goes... but she can watch my Mom and I play for a good three hours.
And when that doesn't work... I just need to talk to her about high-heeled shoes or make-up.
I knew my grandma was a cutie.

Greetings from Hell

Dear, dear, Sweet Jesus...
I understand people have to pay for the bad they've done on this Earth... but... am I really that horrible? What is up with all this bullshit I've been dealt? Ok... maybe I should have chosen a much gentler word than "bullshit"... but I get angry... and then turn vulgar... you know me.
Please... please make these days go by like the blink of an eye... I'm going insane... and you know something's terribly wrong when I study molecular biology and I don't fall asleep after two paragraphs...
Love,
A very frustrated, tired, bummed-the-fuck-out AnoMALIE.

I'm damn near close to hitchhiking my way back to the States.
Mexico's a damn sausage fest... and while I know "normal" girls would enjoy the extra attention, I keep as much distance from the beasts (it's like vultures when they see a fresh carcass... it's BAD).
I hang out with a crew of 5 teenaged boys (aged 17-19, I do have some standards...) because there are probably 7 girls in total in this town... and those girls are enjoying the male attention to the fullest... so I don't really get along with those chicks.
But here comes the bulk of my stress:
On my way to Mexico... once we were already in Chihuahua... Mom dropped a bomb on me.
We're going to keep your grandma at our house.

WHAT THE FUCK? No...no... NO! Let me the fuck out of this truck! Noooooooooo!!

Yeah, I know that makes me look like a bitch, and frankly, I don't give a flying fuck.
Maybe if we were people who enjoy spending our vacation locked in our house watching television all day I'd be cool with that... or maybe if my grandma liked me...
but no!
The othe day my grandma was poking me for a good 3 minutes as I only stared and smiled at her like "WTF are you doing?"
She's my 87-year-old grandma... I have to take the poking and smile like a dipshit the whole time!
Then comes the issue with our dog: the hundred-pound pitbull who loves running into the house, but despises any other human... and my grandma: the little old lady who likes opening doors because she tends to forget where they lead.
You have no clue how many mornings I get up freaked the fuck out thinkig my grandma is trying to open the door (she tried the other day and I swear I felt my heart stop).
So here, poor Tyson (the dog) suffers as well because we have the door leading to the backyard locked with three huge ass locks.

I'm just upset and irritated... I can't stand having to stay home to take care of somebody.
I should have jumped out of the damn truck when I had the chance...

Help me, God.

Ready for take off... kind of... sort of... OK, maybe not

Finally:
I depart!

Ahi los vidrios, compadres en un mes.

Hopefully I'm not bobbing off to sleep too much during this trip... I have a feeling I'll be in a world of hurt come 2-3 in the morning.

P.S. I had fun tonight... even if my cheeks hurt like a bitch from laughing/smiling so much. Sure beats scowling. And I didn't try to castrate anyone... I mean... what good would you serve me like that? haha ;)

I also find it sad that I'm here blogging as the rest of the household is still wrapping shit up.
Watch... I'm going to leave some vital belonging here in Vegas and I'm gonna be bitching about it for the rest of the summer... oh well.

Just me... cussing at school

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck UNLV.
Seriously, man.... fuck!

I was thinking about going to grad school there... but then on days like today, I'm reminded of the fucking incompetence of a lot of its workers... and how fucking rude and condescending they are... and shit, I couldn't be happier to be leaving that fucking school.
Fuck you, UNLV... shit.

I suppose I should have seen this coming... I started off at the damn place with a bang (I sent them my transcript 3 times... the first two times they somehow, magically lost them. I took the final copy by hand, with my high school's registrar secretary willing to come in with me on the fourth time to hand it to them personally. Luckily we didn't have to resort to that... but I don't think I've ever cried so hard in my life. That shit sucked) no reason to believe I wasn't going to go out in the same fashion (what's wrong now? The credits I have to my name. Fuck. That. Shit. I'm an over achiever, they better believe that shit).

So much fucking bullshit... all I know is that I better not wind up paying a fucking late fee... and I better be graduating in December. Cocksuckers are not going to make me take/pay for any more classes... hell no.

I just love how on the wake of my departure... I'm so worked up.
I am glad I managed to keep my composure the entire time I was on campus. Mentally, I was throwing shit as fucking far as possible.

But... whatever... I'm done.
I'm fucking done.

Soon... I'll be drinking Mexican soda (only place I do drink soda)... watching Mexican television programs... playing volleyball... breathing fresh mountain air... oh man... relax, AnoMALIE... everything's going to be fine.

I'll miss blogging though... although... I'll do it whenever possible.

Later.
(No pictures of the new do... fuck that... I'm too angry to fix my hair properly in order to show its awesomeness. The only pictures I'll put here will be the ones I take of Henry David, the gnome Chase gave me for Christmas... but that'll have to wait until August)

Counting down the hours

Oh lala.
A little over 24 hours to go and guess what...
I ain't ready!
Shocker.
Right.

I did get a coolass haircut though... no bangs (those are coming once my hair gets longer... if I ever again let it get long)... but still pretty cool.
Pictures will probably follow... if I'm not too rushed tomorrow.

P.S. I've decided my next vehicle will be a truck... a huge... awesome truck. Why? Because I managed to make peace with my hairdresser/cousin thanks to her cool, new truck.

Diversion to avoid packing.

Older Brother's been in town for a weekend, and we've already gotten into three arguments.
At least there haven't been any punches thrown this time.
I love my siblings, I do... but the fighting... I don't know what the hell.
I guess that's how we show our love for one another... since we don't like hugs (Me: I love you, Brother ::sucker punch to the shoulder blades:: Brother: I love you sister ::kick in the ass::).

I was supposed to be at a Quinceañera right now... but... I'm not in the mood to see a bunch of 13-16 year old girls shaking their ass to Daddy Yankee as their parents watch in horror.

Instead, I'm at home packing... and kind of, sort of, looking forward to this trip. I found out my ex-best friend isn't going after all (good thing... because shit gets awkward when she has to resort to me when no one else in town wants to hang out with her) and that just made my mood shift. I'm pretty damn stoked now.

Holler! No one's gonna be pressuring me to drive out to the next town to go get drunk/high under the moonlight!<-- what a way to ruin shit. I'm over there enjoying a full moon/bonfire in the middle of nowhere (I lie, it's this cool place where our ancestors used to go to make cheese. They're these cool rock formations of... I don't know what kind of rock) and then some dumb shit has to stumble near the fire... with the great idea of just dumping as much weed as possible to get everyone high. Then there will be some asshole who tries to get me to get drunk/high because they think it'd be funny to see what kind of drunk/high girl I'd be. They don't understand that in a couple of minutes it won't be so funny to see an infuriated/annoyed AnoMALIE.

I still have some shopping to do.
I procrastinate to the last second... when I'll remember something like "Fuck! How the hell am I gonna do my hair without a straightening iron?! Let's go back!" as we're at Hoover Dam (I once remembered about a curling iron when we were already in Phoenix and I cried all the way to Mexico about my curling iron. I had Dad send it to me via his brother... but the three weeks I had to wait were the most miserable three weeks of my life. I've also never used so much gel in my life. Never again, dude, never again. I'm pretty low maintenance... but life without a straightening iron? Give me death).

But alas... all the stress has gotten me.
Estoy agüitada? You bet your ass!
Por qué?
A el buen entendedor, pocas palabras.

Aren't you supposed to smile when you say "Cheese?"

Older Brother came home from Italy a couple of minutes ago, and what was the first thing he said to me?
Man!! I had the best cheese yesterday!

Good to see he did his homework.

It did bum me out that he took my joke seriously, though.
When he asked me what I wanted back from Milan back in May, my response was:
Taste all the cheese in Italy and tell if they're better than what they look like... and also tell me which one's the best!

I could have asked for anything... and I just got an essay on cheese.
Fuck you, cheese! Fuck you.

***
I was going to cut my hair today... since I last got it snipped on April 13th... but I decided it wasn't an omen I wanted to continue (I did get my hair fucked up that time).
I do need a nice trim though... and some bangs.
Bangs would kind of rock.

My departure date keeps creeping up and I grow increasingly frantic.
I'm scared! I don't want it to come! I'm scared!!

I've been seeing homies these past few days (which reminds me, Minnow, Time's-a-wastin'. You're not ever going to learn Spanish at that pace)... as if I'm going off to war or some shit. Kind of sad.
I hate goodbyes... even if I'll see the people again in a month... they still suck (what if I really die and never see them again? Imagine if I really do fall off a cliff this time... or I get gored by a bull--yeah, it ain't Pamplona, but bulls run wild over there-- or some drunkard takes me hostage? Dear God, why am I panicking?).

Maybe that's why I'm sad?

Oh well... whatever... anything beats being in this hot, hot, sun... and I need to erase what's on my mind... like they do in those Men in Black movies.
*Zap* What happened? Who are you? Where am I? Who am I? (yeah, like I need any more drama when it comes to my identity)

Loquita.

Yep. I'm definitely going insane.

Yesterday was 7-11... aka Free Slurpee Day and did I care? NO.
Fucking... no!!

Yesterday I didn't think it was amazing... but after I sat down and thought about it... I seriously had a "WTF is wrong with me?!" moment.
I had planned for that day since... March, and now that the day was here, I didn't visit a 7-11 even though I had driven around so much!
Shit, man... crazy!

I'm also getting this bad attitude (and let's not forget how sad I've been... but I swore not to get all down on this Blog because I have another place to go to and write about all that shit. A place where all these emo kids actually like me and think I'm cool... which is a little alarming). I practically bark at people for any little thing.

How the hell is an upcoming trip doing all this to me?

I tell myself I'm stressed about having to go back and seeing an empty house at my grandparent's place... and then about going to the cemetery and actually having a close relative to go and place flowers for (I have this goth thing I do--not purposely gothic, to tell you the truth-- where I take roses from my garden to the cemetery and place them on lonely graves. I only do it because I hope people would do that for my lonely grave... if I ever have a grave). I used to like going to the cemetery... but I have a feeling I'm gonna be quite fucked up this year.
I'm also scared. Really... very scared.

But! I will have awesome pictures by the time I get back! I'll make sure of that.

P.S. Yet another update on the New Rules:
The deadline has been pushed up!!
YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Haha... my Dad uses his noggin! You would never assume he only made it up to sixth grade with some of the stuff he comes up with (then again, there'll be times he will let something slip in front of others which only makes me want to shoot myself in the face to spare me any further embarrassment).

The new deadline is July 30th.... or... 31st? Let's just make it the 31st (I'm in a way better mood now, so I'll give people an extra day).
However... I'm leaving the country Tuesday night (YEY!!!!!!!) and not returning until the 17th of the following month...
So... that gives strangers... 6 days, counting today, to get on my good side... and 6 days for those people on my good side to stay there (which they don't even have to worry about. The only way they'll fall out of my good graces is if they... hmm... I don't know... no one's really fallen out of... no, wait, I have one! If they get married and don't put me as a bridesmaid [well, I only get offended when they put everyone--i.e. my sister and all female cousins-- and their Momma as a bridesmaid, but leave me out]! That's a really long, sad story that doesn't belong here).

Technical Difficulties.

Yo aquí entre la nada
voy a hablar de todo.
Buscaré a mi modo continuar.
Y hasta que los años
cierren mi memoria,
no me dejaré de preguntar:

¿Dónde estará mi primavera?
¿Dónde se me ha escondido el sol,
que mi jardín olvidó,
y el Alma me marchitó?

Ya. Prometo no seguir con tanta mamada.
Esto no es para que ventile mi rollo depresivo.

En poco, regresará la niña de siempre. Igual de mal hablada y juguetona, pero eso sí: no igual de pendeja.

New Rules: Enforcement Update.

Hear, ye! Hear ye!

Due to recent events (::cough:: some bitch ass neighbor who appealed ::cough::), my New Rules will not be in effect until Halloween of this year.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen... I have postponed my drastic change in friendship policies for another three months (maybe I can come up with a possible future-boyfriend policy within the next 3 months... but... I don't really... boyfriends just aren't in my immediate future. Trust me, I don't see any guy liking me in that sense for... hmm... years. I'm such a child.... ew, which could possibly attract pedophiles... sick).

So... if you want these new rules to not effect the way in which we go about our business, homies, you best get to steppin'. Especially since you technically have 2 months to get on my good side because I'll be out of the country for one month starting in a little over a week from now.

You might be handsomely rewarded... and you'll get to enjoy the benefits of being my friend three months from now without having to be in ownership of Rolexes, Christian Louboutin, or any other possessions mentioned in the notice. Who knows... you might end up getting some as gifts...

Just consider 07-07-07 to be your luckiest day of the year... (I kid... sort of) it sure wasn't mine.

Thank you. That is all.

Ok, no, it's not... I just had to add this because it made me laugh so hard:
Off topic: I was just made aware of the existence of a fan of mine. Yeah, I said it: fan.
I laughed even harder when I found out who it was: Twiggy (my sister's ex-best friend, not the cool top model)!
Apparently, this girl has a thing for my writing style.
"I like how your sister writes... tell her to write more often!!"
"Umm... ok? How am I supposed to tell her this without pissing her off by letting her know we read her stuff?"
"I don't know... just tell her I'm a fan!"
She became upset when I decided to privatize my Myspace because that meant she could no longer read my blogs unless I decided to add her (which I never planned on, because a human that manages to piss me off more than she I have yet to meet).
I'm glad I privatized the page, and I pray to God Twiggy never finds any other blogs of mine, because this girl has a thing for emulating/usurping other people's style, whether it be in apparel, musical tastes (which she totally ripped off me! She went to my page and looked up all my favorite bands and now she claims to be the goddess of Rock en Español), or behavior. Let's not add "writing style" to the list... because that would upset me shitless.

I could never manage to get anything better than a "C" in my 10th grade World History class essays because the (fucking nutjob) teacher hated my writing style. Then last year a professor I really liked (he makes me laugh) wouldn't give me anything better than a "C" in my essays because he didn't like my "cute-sy" style.
To have a "fan" of the "style" just makes me laugh... and to see who it is... well... that just makes me double over in pain.
I don't know whether to be proud... or ashamed at the fact that a "normal" person likes my style, but a smart educator can't stand it. ???

Ok... now that is all for today.
I have a fan (and she's one of the chicks I directed these new rules to! How sad... I dislike my own fan!)!!
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Stupid Azz Shoes?!

There's definitely something on me that says: talk shit about me, to my face preferably.

Why? Because today, while in the midst of my Mexico shopping (someone kill me now! I'm going insane with all this bullshit. I didn't have lunch today until 10:30 PM!), some ghetto hood rat bitch heifer talked shit about my shoes--my favorite ones, as a matter of fact!
It wasn't like she was trying to be discreet about it, either.

Ghetto Hood Rat Bitch Heifer's equally ghetto bitch friend (who was Hispanic, around 17, and was the mom of a kid around the age of one and a half. She then had the nerve to call me Ma'am... Bitch, am I holding a kid? Do you see a ring on my finger? Fuck you, hoe) stopped in front of me as I was looking at some stuff, pointed at my shoes, and said "See, those are the type of shoes I have to wear to work."

I sat there... since I saw these two ghetto hoes get in my face, and let them both gawk.
Yes... I grant you the privilege to stare at the wonderful beauty of my fantastic shoes!
I guess only normal people like my shoes (they were flats!! Fucking flats!!--the brown ones with the cute belt buckle in the front!), because her bitch ass heifer friend went:
"Eghhh! Why da hell you have to buy such stupid azz shoes?!"

Which made my jaw drop.

Wha...what you say, heifer? I couldn't understand through your wigger accent!

I dropped the clothes I had in my hands, and of course, turned hood-rat Mexican on them.
I did The Rock eyebrow... looked the dumb ass up and down once (not the Ghetto Momma. I respected the fact she was carrying her baby in her arms. Who fights with a lady carrying a baby?)... then stopped my gaze at her shoes (what else? Err Force Ones!)... then looked her in the eye.
No words.
No need... because her Ghetto Momma Friend started stuttering and trying to fix what her dumb ass friend said.
"I like 'em!! I'm just sayin'... I can't find any... I mean, they're nice."
That's when Ghetto Hood Rat Bitch Heifer started stuttering as well.
"Your shoes are stupid too. My shoes are stupid. Shoes are stupid..."

Yeah, bitch, that's what I thought. Next time, talk shit about some chick who's at least two inches shorter than your stumpy ass. Biiiiiiiiiiatch!

Seriously... these are stressful times... why the fuck does some imbecile, who's probably 17, think they can play with me like that?
Yeah, I'm a good girl... I rarely fight... but when I've been out since 10 in the morning, I've been to the gym and back, I haven't had a single bite to eat since 12 in the afternoon, and it's already 9 PM, don't fuck with me.
I won't be nice, I won't let shit slip. Well... maybe if you're a five foot six Latina or taller... or a very angry black woman. I don't even argue with either of those groups of girls.

(Ha! And to kill it, I finished my day by grocery shopping at 9:30 PM and I had this long ass conversation with this Iranian guy and his wife about Habanero chiles. At least this time it wasn't a ten minute conversation on how to properly roll up a burrito... and which flour tortillas work best. That shit's annoying. Just because I'm standing by the Mission Tortillas stand doesn't mean I work for them... or that I even know how to prepare award-winning tortilla dishes. Pop 8 of those bitches in a microwave for 2:22 and you're good. That's the best I can do)

Red, White, and BLUE.

Hmmm... so that was the Fourth of July?
...interesting (I loved the commercial on Univision that said "Congratulations, United States, on your independence day. Hope they have a great day." They. They! Where the hell are we? Japan?! My point is probably clearer in Spanish, because the English language is different and certain things don't make as much sense)
Last time I remember having any fun on that day I was about 9 and lived closer to my cousins. We all had water guns, we lived behind the stratosphere, casinos put a little more effort on their fireworks show... and it wasn't ever this hot.

Maybe I just bitch because back then I still wore shorts without having a care in the world.
Now I'm burning up under fucking jeans but I'm too stubborn to wear anything that'll expose my legs past the knees (hmm... maybe I am turning Amish).

Anyway... I was saddened today by the realization that I can no longer keep up with a 16 (maybe she's 17... I didn't really bother to ask these past three days she was here) year old.
My sister loves this kid... and since she knows I need to start shopping for Mexico (I fucking hate that task... I hate being in malls because I end up buying shit I definitely don't need), she informed me that we were once again going to hang out as a means to celebrate 4th of July.

Me, a crazy 19 year-old... and her 16-year-old clone.

Well, let me start off by saying this: A human that eats more than this 16-year old I have never met.
Actually, let me rephrase that: A human that gets hungry as often as this girl I have never met.
Every damn little thing we saw... she wanted in her belly.
I was so annoyed by this kid (who isn't pregnant, or a tub of lard, so I don't understand WTF is her problem), I went as far as rejecting an offer of free ice-cream... freaking ICE CREAM in this 123 degree weather (Minnow, you jinxed it... not only did we reach 115 this week... we went into the 120's)!
She also loves the mall... loves it.
I wanted to shoot myself after twenty minutes.
She isn't a bad kid... she's just... really indecisive (more so that me).

Then we decided to be even more American (and get away from the sun that burned the shit out of us and made us look like lobsters... well, I didn't get it that bad, but my sister's pretty red)... so we went bowling.

Interesting two hours of my life.
Who can win with a score of 91? Me! (when playing with two girls that hit more gutter-balls than I do)
We did get some good pictures from the outing, so I really can't hate.

That was totally my idea.
Little Sister wanted to use two pink balls and place them on her chest, but of course, I gave her this much better idea.
That's definitely my favorite picture. My sister's a nut for following through with the idea... while surrounded by a ton of guys.
I love my sister... even if she often drives me insane... but then she busts out weirdo behavior like this and she makes me laugh.

After that, we slowed down the pace (especially once I realized I was broke... and I mean... I only had three dollars left in my wallet. I'm so damn broke now). We stayed home... chilled... not even with the television on because that shit was so boring.
Instead, we played pool for about an hour, then decided to watch our super white-washed Mexican neighbors light up pounds of fireworks... almost catching all of our lawns on fire... but I guess it was fun to watch people squirm with fear.

As cool as that was, though, I'd definitely prefer to be in Mexico... at least it's still in the high 60's-mid70's over there.

Fuck, I hate this damn weather!

Twin Boy's Redemption

There are days I wonder why the hell I'm friends with certain people... but then they do something that cracks me up and I remember.

This guy irritates me often... he brags more than anyone else I know (the one who was bragging about going to... I think it was Jamaica, for Spring Break), and he's pretty cocky because he's a twin (I've never understood why twins are usually conceited little pricks). We go way back, so I bite my tongue regardless of how mad he makes me sometimes (because I do have fond memories with that idiot. I even look back to how we first met as kids with a bit of yearning. I was 8, he was 9... Dad took me to twinboy's house because he had to talk to the twins Dad. I was standing in the backyard, because Dad sent me to go look for "the two boys that are your age" so I wouldn't listen to adult conversation. Next thing I know, two identical looking kids pop from each side of the house and proceed to spray the shit out of me with Super Soaker water guns. Fucked up for me... but I guess it must have been very funny to watch if you were anyone else. I know this because I've never seen Dad laugh so hard... although he later had to get the twins Dad to get a blow dryer to dry me off with because Mom would have assassinated Dad had she seen me come home soaking wet).
Well, he sent me this today, and he had me laughing for a while:

WOMAN'S POEM

Before I lay me down to sleep,

I pray for a man who's not a creep,

One who's handsome, smart and strong.

One who loves to listen long,

One who thinks before he speaks,

One who'll call, not wait for weeks.

I pray he's gainfully employed,

When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.

Pulls out my chair and opens my door,

Massages my back and begs to do more.

Oh! Send me a man, who'll make love to my mind,

Knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"

I pray that this man will love me to no end,

And always be my very best friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MAN'S POEM

I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a liquor store and a golf course. This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.

Mexico fever level: Orange.

For the first time in seven years, I woke up on the second day of July and I was still in Vegas.
:(
This time last year we were speeding down some highway in Chihuahua staring at all the cow carcasses by the side of the road (you can see them at all levels of decomposition. My personal favorite is when they're all bones, but there's still some skin on them. I hate it when they're fresh and you can tell worms are eating them from the inside because they're all bloated and smelly).
We'd also just had a huge argument with the people in charge of giving us car permits at the border... them and their stupid idea of having us travel back to Vegas just so Mom could bring her wedding certificate. Fucking jackasses.
Note to the wise: Don't ever cross the border the day of Mexican Presidential elections... it's all crazy and the people working government jobs try and act like they're not corrupt, and in turn, they just become bitches to U.S. citizens.

Anyway, instead of being on the road and daydreaming about being lazy in Mexico and playing volleyball until my joints hurt, I'm sitting at home... doing what else? Writhing in pain and throwing up.
Yes. I have a wonderful life... and a fucking terrific gag reflex (what the fuck is up with me throwing up so much? The eating disorder that had my ass in check back in the day was anorexia, never bulimia... I shouldn't be doing this).

However... in less than 20 days (shit, I hope, I hope, I hope!! School better not get in my way. Fucking grad pack) I'll be a happy camper... doing all this in Mexico:

1) Watching lightning storms (from a safe distance, of course, and preferably under a roof where no metal is near).
2) Listening to roosters in the morning (Mexican roosters never annoy me as much as U.S. roosters do)
3) Running in the rain (when there isn't lightning or thunder. Thunder frightens the shit out of me)
4) Swimming in rivers/oligotrophic baby lakes (so much fun... as long as there aren't tadpoles in there. Those bitches scare me)
5) Hiking! (you know, in dangerous cow trails that can possibly get me killed... because I'm stupid like that)
6) Shooting at empty soda bottles... only to complain about how loud the guns are (yeah, I'm a wimp like that)
7) Climbing trees (as long as there aren't ants crawling all over the place. What a way to ruin the fun)
8) Riding horses! (Horses!!!)
9) Sitting outside after a rain storm late at night... with the smell of wet dirt, no mosquitos in sight, and the sky clearing up to reveal the bright stars Vegas would never permit me to see (::sigh:: man... I miss this so bad)
10) The Full Moon Ritual... (we are part Native. We do our thing... although we just sort of invented it out of boredom)
11) Walking the Plaza at night in the nearby town... raspado in hand... checking out the scene (because rarely do I check out the guys... they're all younger than man... and if that's not it, they're shorter than me... or dumber than me-- and that my friends, is pretty hard to out-do me on, my stupidity).
12) Playing:
A)Volleyball! (Man... Oh man! Take me there! Now!)
B) Hide-and-go-seek in the dark with the other young adults (haha. There are about four kids under 14 though, so it's not that bad)
C) Tag with those same young adults (and 14-year-olds)
13) Treating a group of 7 to a bomb ass Mexican dinner for only 25 bucks (that always astonishes me).
14) Watching Mexican television (this is more of a guilty pleasure, since I tend to miss most of the television action cause I'm out and about at the nearby towns grocery shopping... or visiting my dentist... or eating. I really only watch the 11 AM-2 PM programing)
15) No Internet!! (Unless I travel to the above mentioned towns and visit one of the creepy Internet cafes. Paying a dollar an hour... but I do it anyway... even when the creepy old dude next to me is playing solitaire and checking me out when I'm deep in concentration while writing back to friends via Myspace)
16) No phone! (fuck you, phone! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!)

This list could go on and on... I love everything I do over there. Sure, some of the people are... pretty bad... and they love talking shit, but that's why I never give them the opportunity to find me in some sort of compromising position.
I play it safe, enjoy the scenery... and stay out of trouble (yeah, I'm a goody-goody... and what? I enjoy being sober and watching the drunken chicks make asses of themselves as they cry over some guy that's ignoring them--totally not the case if the female's sober, those cases suck. It's awesome for me... better than soap operas, if you ask me. I also love it when those same chicks get caught by their very embarrassed moms who slap them in public and call them hoes... it's just... fantastic. It's even better when those inebriated girls use the excuse of "But Mom! Everyone was like that!" which gives me the opportunity to raise my hand in protest and say "Upppp-up-up! Not me!!" Oh, I'm enjoying these memories).

Even with all the modernism going on over there, going to Mexico is still like traveling back in time (both in a good and bad way).
It's amazing... and it helps me stay sane (and also appreciate living in the U.S. After three weeks in Mexico, I start missing all the typical Vegas-y things... even the weather).

Man, I have a very bad case of Mexico fever... I don't know if I'll make it till Mid-July... I wanna go nowwww!

P.S. Totally off-topic: I was going to blog yesterday about some creepy dude that was petting my back throughout mass on Saturday... but I opted against it... because... I felt kind of bad... for the weirdo guy (I did think it was a kid that was touching my back... until I had to turn around to shake people's hands and I came to the realization that it was only a 40-something-year-old man that was sitting behind me. Quite mortifying... and creepy). But yes... I can now add that to my list of "weird shit to happen to me," and "Weird things older dudes have done to me in church." Why do I attract those types of people... why?!