Monday, June 23, 2008


I've been sitting at home since last Monday here in Mexico.
I don't think it's as dangerous as some people claim, but you know, I'd rather not test the waters.

I'm getting pretty fucking awesome at guitar here while down here.

What a boring summer this will be.

Sunday, June 15, 2008


All right... I was a little frustrated last night.
I thought about deleting the post, but eh, whatever. I get frustrated and sentimental sometimes... it's ok if people see that once in a while... I'm not a robot.

I did wake up with fucked up, puffy eyes... and I did keep crying (last night there were even times when I'd be dry-heaving. I was just so angry, upset, humiliated, depressed, fed up... you name it) up until a couple of minutes ago when my mom called.
I try not to cry around her because she's pretty bad when it comes to that sort of thing. Instead of comforting me and whatnot, she'll get pissed and scream at me things like "And why are you crying?! You don't cry over that type of shit! Now, suck it up and act normal!!"
Yeah... she's not the gentlest mom out there. She has always been more of a "dude" when it comes to parenting.

And talking about dudes... I hope they have a happy Father's Day.

How do I put this nicely?




I'm not mad.
I'm not upset.
I'm just... disappointed.

Signs the day wasn't going according to plan?
1) I (along with 3 other bridesmaids that were in the same car) was the last girl to get to church.
2) I broke a sweat jogging to the back of the line of 25 couples, yes, 25!
3) I was the tallest girl there.
4) I was the only girl there with a baggy dress...
5) Walking down the aisle, close to the front of the church, I tripped... BIG time (the heel of my shoe got stuck on the back of my dress, since the dress was still too long)... if it weren't for my partner (I'll get to that later) gripping on to me with a death grip, I would have fallen flat on my ass (the crowd did gasp, though. I'm such a thrill seeker!).
6) Along with almost tripping, I simultaneously almost flashed the congregation... including the priest, who was not too happy with me.
7) Half-way through mass, I realized my skirt was stuck... well... in there... yes... I had... I was... they saw... my God...
8) I spent the rest of mass picking my crack each time I stood up... that, and I'd also tug my top up... because I'm paranoid like that.
9) My male arch-enemy was paired-up directly ahead of me. He'd constantly turn around to stare (he sort of has always had a thing for me. I on the other hand, never have. I didn't hold anything against him, though, until one day, I heard him say something very derogatory about me. I was 14, had a fragile self-image... and this made me cry for months. Needless to say, I have been plotting revenge against him ever since)... and I'd take the time to glare right back... with my best scowl... with the excuse that the sun was in my eyes... yes, even once we were inside the Circus-Circus hotel.
10) There were more cowboy hats in the crowd than at the PBR National Finals Rodeo.
11) My partner left me for a good three minutes during one of the dances... I just stood there like a dickhead looking for him....
12) They served HALF A CHICKEN on each plate. HALF A CHICKEN!! WTF? I almost fought a little girl for her plate of chicken fingers. (This is not my friend's fault, though. It's her stupid husband and father-in-law. They ordered incorrectly. I told her later on that had that been my case, I would have called him a fucking idiot, then called the wedding off. Fuck that shit--yeah, I know, and I wonder why I'm still single)
13) They ran out of cake!!
14) They never filled the glasses! I was so thirsty, I could have drank my own piss (so instead, I just left)

and the top sign this day was CRAP:
15) As I'm dancing the "Dollar dance" with the groom, the only thing he keeps saying is:
"I'm SO SORRY! He's just... so fucking retarded. No, I swear, he's a retard... I'M SO SORRY! He's just retarded. I had to put him in... even though he's retarded. Please don't feel bad!"


Seriously, my partner was mentally handicapped... and not the nice, "Aww... well, I still want to help you out!" type, but the crazy, "Oh my God, why are you wishing death upon your own cousin?" scary type.

Ok... now I can go to bed and fucking cry my eyes out (why do they always do that to me? ::ok, I'm crying now. God, I didn't know I felt so strongly about this:: I'm the one who gets the dude NOBODY wants. I'm the fucking giant who almost burst into flames each time she sees a fucking midget half my age with a guy perfect in stature and build for me. WHY?! Do I appear to be that super nice that I wouldn't say shit? Well, yeah, you're right, I don't. I suck it up and smile and try to make my partner feel like less of an outcast... wouldn't anybody else?! Why must I always be the one put in that predicament? That is NOT cool. Not cool at all, but then again, I think maybe that happens so often because I'm the girl nobody wants. I'm the ugly one amongst the pretty, petite girls... who usually gets asked because it'd be considered mean not to... because they ask for my sister since she's a pretty girl--although there has been one, a first cousin actually, who asked for both my siblings and left me out because I wasn't "hot enough." I heard that out of his own mouth. He then went about telling everyone I had said I didn't want to be in the wedding... which was pure bullshit. Ok, I'll stop talking now, I hate sharing this type of shit here).
I gotta be ready for when those damn pictures get posted all over the fucking internet, so I can appear cool and calm about the whole thing.

You guys have no idea how badly I wanted to strangle myself with my shawl. That shit sucked.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

The hourglass

My brother was here for only two days before he had to leave for Princeton this morning.

We didn't have much time to bond... just enough time to get attached and sad over the thought that we weren't going to see each other for the next two months.

As he was packing his bags last night, I went over to his room to keep him company (he does this thing... were you know he's sad and wanting to bond... but he doesn't straight up say "Hey, I'm sad about leaving you guys! I'm going to miss you! I want to spend time with you!" He does something like... walk in and out of TravelinDin's room-- where I hang out until I have to go to my own bed to sleep-- then bites our arm... or pulls our leg... or punches our back... or bites our head... or flicks our ear... you get the picture. He's a primitive young fellow. We'll then get irritated and slap him back, or say something like "What the fuck is your problem!?" But after about the seventh time he does this-- or when he starts going into the room to say stuff like "Remember the time we were playing kickball and..." aka when he starts reminiscing, I get the hint and spend time with him. Poor kid never had a brother to rough-house with, I might as well make him feel a little less lonely).
We were lsitening to South Park... because neither of us were watching it--he was packing, I was reading Glamour.
We'd comment on how much I love Butters, and how much he hates him because he's "a retard." Once that was over, I started reading, out-loud, things from the magazine.

Me: Check this: Guys: What's your most surprising turn-on? "I know this sounds weird, but if she loves watching Family Guy, I'm ready to go 24/7."
Bro: LAME!
Me: "Cute feet..." Ewwwww. I hate feet. They're so gross.
::Brother rolls eyes::
Me: "Silver hoop earrings. I'm from Boston, and the hot girls there always wear them. They're synonymous with sexy."... Really? That just says "Hood Rat" to me.
Bro: Hater...
Me: You're telling me hood rats don't rock big hoop earrings? You're telling me that's not the first thing you think of when I say "Hoop earrings?"

Then there was this exchange a little later:

Me: That's BULLSHIT!
Bro: What?
Me: Glamour polled nearly 600 women to reveal what type of body shape they had.
Bro: What's wrong with that?
Me: Ok... 10% said they were an apple... 18% said they were up and down, 24% said they were a pear... and 48% said they were an hourglass!!! Almost half of the people! Bull-fucking-shit!
Bro: Relax... apple...
Me: I AM NOT AN APPLE! I'd fit in American Eagle jeans if I were an apple... with those narrow-ass hips.
Bro: Ok... pear.
Me: I'm NOT flat-chested, damn it!
Bro: What are you?
Me: I'm a... that's besides the point.

Two minutes later, he kicked me out of his room with the excuse that he was sleepy.

I'm starting to see why he prefers to punch and bite us...

Tuesday, June 10, 2008


Ladies and gentlemen.... she has done it.

My cousin finally got her 5th ugly tattoo. ...
Now... I remember what was said the last time she got a stupid tattoo...
and I'm a girl of my word.
I'm pissed she took my spot though (ok, secret's out. Besides the tattoo I'll get on my left wrist, I'll also be getting one on the right side of my ribcage)... but whatever.... man... I'll get it done.

I'm just torn between calling her Popeye or Linnaeus.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Old People Make Me Laugh

I can always depend on someone to cheer me up in the most random way:

(Phone rings)
Me: Hello?
Old Man: Is *Dad* there?
(he's pretty much screaming at me... but not maliciously)

Me: No... he's not home.
Old Man: It's Fred, his cousin... I was just calling to see if he got home all right.
(Still Screaming)

Me: Oh! He got home last night around 9.
Fred: Oh, ok! I was, you know, just making sure he didn't get in a car wreck or died... just worried since he didn't call or anything.... WHO AM I TALKING TO?!
(He seemed to be a little freaked out by now)

Fred: Nuñez?!... Who?
Me: No... AnoMALIE.
Fred: ...
Me: His daughter, AnoMALIE.
Fred: Oh! Gina, his daughter! Ok Gina, just tell your Dad I called.

I love it when they can't get my name right... especially when they're Mexican... and we share the same blood.

Why am I bummed?
1) I finally got the bridesmaid dress I'm wearing this weekend... it's ugly as fuck... and there's no time to fix it. I'm going to look like a stupid idiot in it.
2) Yesterday, I fell in love, and purchased, the cruelest pair of shoes to wear with that stupid ugly dress. All I have to say is: CARLOS SANTANA! Stick to your music! As
beautiful as your shoes may be... they HURT! Why must your color schemes be so magnificent?! I'm spending the rest of the week doing nothing but walking in the damn heels... I've already started to cry.
3) Did I mention the dress is a corseted "tube" top? I'm going to have to wear a strapless bra... and... those things are the fucking stupidest, most useless thing created on the face of the universe... well, at least for anyone above a C cup.
4) Oh yeah... and the corset fits me baggy. Actually, the entire fucking stupid dress fits me baggy. It's just... ill-fitting all-together... but that's what you get when the dumb whore responsible for making your dress measures you ONCE in January, doesn't contact you EVER, then hands over the "finished" product in June... a week before the wedding. Thanks, you stupid imbecile... I'm sure people's bodies don't change in the course of 5 months...

Saturday, June 7, 2008


I'm still in the process of cleaning out my room (half way done, yey!).

The process has been slowed down a bit because I'm so sentimentally attached to things, I find it hard to throw them away. I have things saved that should have been thrown out years ago (seriously, I was saving my bookstore receipt from my first semester of college? WTF, as if I'm so fond of those books!). However, each time I bump into them, I get this silly smile on my face because of the memories (as bad as they were to initially go through) they bring.

The two best examples I can find:
The Space Jam watch. It was given to me as a Christmas gift when I was 13...
Space Jam came out when I was in 6th grade (age 11).
Not only was this gift 2 years late... I was 13 and lived in the ghetto... meaning I went to a ghetto school... where NO ONE rocked Space Jam shit... unless they had a death wish, of course.
I remember getting the wrapped gift (from my "coolest" Godmother, nonetheless), and thinking
Ok... it's a watch... but I'm sure I'll love it 'cause my Godmom ROCKS!!
(I was going through a phase where I sort of worshipped her "bodacity," to quote Kung Fu Panda, aka her awesomeness)
When she gave me the gift, she said
"I wasn't sure if you'd like this... or what I gave CrazyDrivingCousin... but I decided this because you're growing up."

Sweet! An adult watch!

I had to open the gift in front of her, since it was past Christmas when it was given to me.
I was at her house... in front of her mom and dad (she's only 5 years older than me, my Godmom)... and I opened the gift carefully.
I remember seeing the white case, turning it over... and BAM!


When I looked up, everyone was smiling that stupid "You like?! You like?! Isn't it great?!" smile at me.

Godmom: it sings!
Me: Really?... Coo... L.

The watch was bulky... and heavy... I imagine it was like that because it could "sing."
I sat quietly... with that smile I typically do that sort of quivers... because I'm actually fighting off a scowl and tears.

Godmom: I gave CrazyDrivingCousin that Barbie that comes with the walking dog... I originally bought it thinking of you, but then my mom told me you were 13, you don't play with dolls by that age
Me: Oh... (internally) CDC is 11!! I still play with dolls!!! I still like dolls! Who the hell rocks Space Jam at my age?! Thanks a lot... "mom."

Once Mom said it was time to go, I race to the car and started to cry.

I never did learn how to use that damn thing... I could never make it sing... and I didn't want to. Fuck Bugs Bunny and Lola Bunny's love affair.
I stored that shit and never wore it... not once.

And that, is the memory I have of my first SHITTY Christmas present... the shittiest of all.

Then there's this thing:
5th Grade Shit-talking note.
Hey, at least I came out of it victorious, right (circles mean "yes")?

The culprits behind it? My two (out of three) best friends... my third best friend was the poor girl on the note that they didn't like.
Oh, and Mario... he was my "boyfriend."

How's that for 5th grade drama?

Friday, June 6, 2008

It only takes...

... an hour to go pick Dad up from the hospital, then drive back home at 8 in the morning (stupid morning traffic!).

... a day for Dad to stop parking behind me. (I guess my screams of rage along with me almost breaking the front door proved that point. You won't like me when I'm angry... [I'm SO watching that movie next Friday. Mmmm... Edward Norton...])

... two days in a row of Twiggy coming over and talking non-stop from 2 PM 'til 8PM to get me to leave TravelinDin's room and begin the arduous task of cleaning up my room. (Twiggy is so fucking annoying... when I heard she was coming over yesterday afternoon [for the third straight day], I didn't even greet her. I just ran to my room, plugged in my i-Pod and started cleaning away. I worked from 3 PM until 10 PM and I only managed to "clean" a fourth of my room. It's that BAAAAAAD. I'm a shame to Mexican girls, really)

... four days for Dad to stop sleeping with his bedroom door wide open. (TravelinDin and I accomplish WAY more when we work as a team. How did we accomplish this? Why, by talking loudly, laughing loudly, washing the dishes loudly, listening to the television loudly, fighting loudly... you get it... we were just plain loud after 8 PM... aka Dad's bedtime. You can only take two loud girls for so long... two loud, Mexican girls... I'm surprised he held up for so long)

... a week for Dad to leave us home alone as he visit California relatives. (effective tomorrow. Thank you, Lord)

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Velvet Sole

I may not be the classiest lady... hell, I may not even be considered a "lady"... I'm not as girly as they come... but I do *attempt* to look like one once in a while... most often with bad results.

That being said,
Can someone classier, girlier than I, please explain why the fuck anyone thought putting velvet on the sole of a flat (shoe) was a bright idea?
What good does it do, really?
'cause so far, all I've really done with those fucking shoes is slip... hard!

Before the day ends, I'm going to end up pulling a hamstring... and I will not be a happy "lady."

Monday, June 2, 2008

When the cat's away...

I miss Tyson.

No, I'm not being mean.
I'm used to not having my brother here... and as far as Mom goes, she's been gone before (I am still sweating it right now that I haven't heard from them. Although my brother sent a text to TravelinDin at 7 in the morning telling her they were leaving the border. So I at least know they made it through Arizona safely... now the REAL problem begins).
However... I've never been in Vegas while my dog's gone.
It's weird... and a little scary... since the 100 pound pitbull in the backyard made me feel safe.

I keep looking outside and expect to see him rolling around... or snoring... or just peering in like some creepy weirdo... but he's not there.


My dad's being weird.
Last night he went to bed with his bedroom door wide open... and he kept asking us if we were finally going to go to bed.
TravelinDin: He thinks we're going to sneak out of the house...

Imagine that... my father thinks I'M going to sneak out of the house.
I'm 23, for fucks sake! If I'm going anywhere, I'll let him know... not as a way of asking for permission... just as a way to let him know I'll be out. I wouldn't freak him out by all of a sudden not being in the house.

Sneak out of my house... at my age... PSHHHHHHHHHHH!

Now, because of that [UNWARRANTED] lack of trust (I've never done as much as gone to the mailbox without telling someone where I'm going. It's just a habit. I'm such a damn good kid, even I freak myself out sometimes!), I'm going to go out every day of the week these next two weeks... just so I can scream "Yo, Dad, I'm heading out tonight for a bit. See ya later!" as I run out the door (Funny, I have the balls to be mean to my dad, yet the thought of ever doing this to my mom sends chills down my spine).

I can now rest easily. Mom and Bro made it to Hometown at 7:30PM Vegas time, 9:30 PM Mexico time.
It took my brother 21 hours to make it down there, besides the fact that the roads suck and that there were tons of military halts along the way.
Mom said things down there are as bad as people say. In stops where we'd usually see about 4 or 5 soldiers to a car (they set aside 2-3 cars at a time), now have about 20 soldiers.

Mexico's gonna suck dick this year... man!!!

***Further edit***
SO I'm heading out to go to the gym at 8:30 PM tonight, and what do I see?
My brother's Jetta parked directly behind Bambi... I'm talking two inches away from my bumper.
My dad knows I can't drive a stick shift... so WHAT THE FUCK was that all about?!
There was plenty of room in the driveway for him to park in a spot NOT obstructing my way.
I was so fucking furious, I almost went Hulk on that shit and pushed the damn car with my bare hands! I go to the gym... I can do that type of shit, right?
Luckily, TravelinDin showed up in her AUTOMATIC Jetta, and all was well with the world.

Trying to keep me in the house, Mr. Dos Santos? Ha! Your plan was foiled yet again! (Seriously, what's his fucking problem? I'm 23!!!! Twenty-fucking-three!!! What's the worst I can do? Get pregnant?? Surely there are worse things in this world than having a 23-year-old get knocked up! GET OVER IT, DAD! I'm not a whore... I know how to take care of myself.... and the stupidest shit I ever do is drink milk right after eating watermelon--it makes me barf, yet I always do it... every fucking time-- so don't worry about me and let me live my life, already. All you dads and future dads out there: learn from my father. DON'T DO THAT SHIT. Especially when your girl has shown you, time and time again, how decent and NOT-Stupid she is. I have a goddamn degree... doesn't that shit count for something? Fuck... I'm still angry... I'm going to crush aluminum cans with my hands now... then possibly eat some glass shards... bye)

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Mexico... what happened?

Word on the street is that *Hometown* isn't doing too great right now.
It's not technically Hometown having the problems, it's the municipality.
Yesterday and Friday, there was a shootout between some cartel and the cops... in the middle of the afternoon. This is only the latest news... shit like this has been happening since March... or maybe January... because some jackass stupid motherfucking druglord decided to hide out in our TINY area of Mexico... because it's been well known for being quiet, peaceful... just a little peace of heaven amongst the Sierra Madre. Oh yeah, and also because a ton of cartel leaders seem to be bred there... must be something in the Durango water...


1)I'm scared shitless for me and my family.
2) I'm pissed... beyond compare.

I'm scared because so many people have called to warn us. Mom and Bro leave tonight (packing has been such a bitch! I ended up going to bed at 4:30 in the morning last night, then woke up a couple of hours later because one of my cousin's kids was having a birthday at Peter Piper Pizza... and I don't turn down that kind of shit. Free pizza and arcade games?! Fuck yeah, I'm down! And now I only have three pairs of pants and a couple of shirts to make it for the two weeks I'll be here.... that's NOT enough! But I guess I'll manage... make do like some hoodrat or something) in the truck... so... I'm just hoping and praying they make it safe. I won't be able to sleep or eat properly until I get their phone call telling me they're ok and eating at my aunt's house or something.

I'm pissed because I fucking hate drug dealers and anything having to do with them. They've slowly ruined that area of Mexico with their poison.
Travelling over there was like traveling to a distant world... in a good way. Things were so pure and innocent, a true escape from the bullshit you typically see in large cities.
We were able to walk freely...
Go ANYWHERE we wanted...
The biggest concern we ever dealt with was... well... when the power would go out... or when the water would get cut and we'd be screwed until the next day.

Now, we have to watch our back in case some dumb motherfucker decides he's going to shoot up an area where his "enemy" is located.

That is no way to live.

Rot in hell, imbeciles... rot in fucking hell.