2009: WORST. YEAR. EVER.

I don't know where to start.
Honestly.

This year has been... insane... downright cruel to me.
It has done SO much shit... SO MUCH shit...
I should have known from that very first day. January 1st began horrifyingly frightening. At least I was given a day's break before it decided to take my grandpa from me.
Well, since we're on how this year has sucked dick, let's go on a monthly recap of everything:

FEBRUARY-
Yes, it was fun for president's day weekend... aka Valentine's day, where I actually had 2 dates and blah blah blah. Ok, I lie... that weekend was pretty GREAT.
Of course, everything went to shit by the end. I didn't share this before... I forgot... sort of, but I also didn't want to worry anyone, I hate the attention. But, ok, I'll tell you now, since it has been 10 months: I had a cancer scare.
Yeah. My head was not here. I think it left me the instant I made my mind up to get cut.
I was sliced and I couldn't make sudden movements with my left arm for a week, but other than that, it's ok. It still kind of hurts if I sleep on my left side the entire night, and I still pass my hand over the spot andhave major "What if.." moments.
MARCH
Once it came along (3 days later), as in, my birthday, my friends were inviting me to LA/San Diego/Rosarito, and when I declined, they almost got me to fess up, but I just told them I had a bad injury.
The month continued to suck because of the drama that one girl brought with the Cancun ticket fiasco. That was fun. But the month did end with a trip to Hollywood... so... I could finally stop crying a little.

APRIL

My mom's older sister suffered a mild stroke/heart attack, which led to Mom rushing to Mexico and taking care of her, as well as grandma (since this aunt was the one in charge of caring for grandma). This turned me into an instant accountant after a 5 minute tutorial given by mom... and I worked FOR FREE for Dad. I was given jack-shit in return... just frequent headaches.

MAY

I was given a nice "Happy Mother's Day!" from LIFE with the sudden death of one of my favorite aunts. Her death was provoked... so... let's leave it at that. The family involved in her troubles no longer speaks to us, after a lifetime of friendship.
This month was marked by frequent heartache... well... I don't know how to put it. It was... me being an idiot... loving a boy who only loved me when he was lonely, basically. All the other time, he gave me backhanded compliments and rubbed my face in shit, metaphorically. He would keep me up until 4 in the morning the entire month, bullshitting around. Can you blame me for being hypnotized by the guy?

JUNE

Oh, JUNE!! One word: CANCUN.
LIFE showed me just HOW wrong I have always been.
I confessed... and ERRRRR! BRIIIICK!
Oh! The degree of heartbreak a human being can reach.

JULY

Spent the entire month in a war zone... aka Durango, MX. There was not a day I could breathe easily while being down there.
I also spent the month with my very frail grandmother. It physically hurt me to see her like that. I couldn't look at her for more than 30 seconds before running out of the room crying.
If I think about it too long, I still cry.
"Como un Cristo..."

AUGUST

Last month I saw grandma alive. She cried, didn't want to leave our house, wanted us to bring her to Vegas... and she told us she wasn't going to make it to December. I have never seen so much heartbreak in someone's face... like that day on my grandma. Knowing she was no longer going to see us again, and wanting to share just ONE more day. That was... painful.

SEPTEMBER

The end. 89 years, and she left. We rushed to Mexico for the final farewell.
Most surreal month of my life.
2 other deaths occurred... maybe more, I don't remember... but all in quick succession.

OCTOBER

I can't really remember this month.
Just... detachment. Depression.

NOVEMBER

Realized... I... I don't know. I went to San Francisco again... and while I had an awesome time, after the clout died down, it just left me feeling sad... and once again, used.
Just when I think my heart's healed... it gets broken in some very innovative ways.
I applied for a job. I didn't even get a "We got your app. Thanks, but no thanks." I felt stupid. The end.

DECEMBER

Started off super depressed. It only worsened once I realized I WASTED this entire year. I never got to taking the GRE, much less applying to grad school. SO overwhelmed by it all.
Total crisis mode.
Went to Mexico for almost 2 weeks and my mood lifted. I got lit a couple of times while out there (on one occasion, I was blacking out. It was definitely my worst drunken time EVER. I had only eaten 6 baby powdered doughnuts the entire day. I drank moderately originally, however, everything went to hell the moment I lost a hand at Texas Hold 'em. My friend bet 8 tequila shots, I called. I had pocket aces, he made a straight on the river. That shit FUCKED. ME. UP. I lost 2 more hands, but only for a total of 3 shots. Anyway, there was drama once I started passing out. My bro was also drunk and he made a toast to "That one Girl/Guy you will ALWAYS love, no matter what... even if you can never be with them again." He was forcing everyone at the party say a name. Not wanting to spill the beans, I acted as if I was passed out for the moment. HOWEVER, MGH's brother screamed MGH's complete name when it was my turn, and of course, I cried. "How does he know?!?!" Jesus. I was taken away after that), and being with my two little cousins is always awesome. They make me smile.
I thought of my grandma often while out there. Fuck, I miss her terribly. I'd fight back tears each time I saw something that reminded me of her. Mom had us all crying on Christmas eve, she cried a lot. It was... a very... umm, there was desperation in her voice. She'd rub at her eyes furiously while saying "I TRY NOT TO CRY! I TRY NOT TO THINK OF IT! I TELL MYSELF SHE'S WITH GOD, SHE'S IN HEAVEN. BUT.... AHHHHH! I MISS MY MOMMY!! NO ESTA MI MADRECITA!"
:(
Then we got drunk that night and laughed really hard as Mom's older sister kept calling herself a gorilla and wanting us to take pictures of her behind her door gates (as if she were an attraction at the zoo), as Mom stood on the other side of the gates with the "gorilla" reaching out, menacingly, towards her. I mean... it was quite hilarious, to the point where you could hear us all laughing in the middle of the night in that tinyass town.
I guess you could say December went out sort of saying "Yo, dude, I'm sorry I was a fucking prick...
here, have a couple of laughs real quick, before I go."

2010... this WILL be MY year.
2009... fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou FUCK. YOU.

Recolutions? I'm going to be happy. I WILL make lemonade with the lemons life throws at me (I heard that line about 5 times yesterday as I drove back from MX, listening to the satellite radio).

Mi Abue

This past month has been... one of the worst in a very long time (this year, overall, has been one of the worst).

I've had the intention to update this thing since I got back from Mexico, but so many things occurred in such a short span of time (my dad's aunt passed away ten days after my grandma, and my mom's uncle passed away maybe 4 days after that... so funerals were all over the place. The world apparently wanted to see me miserable ever so badly, which of course, it got), I just never got to it.

So, concerning the whole week-long trip to Mexico, these are my points:

1. I was not scared this time around when it came to the trip. Whatsoever. (There's just something about an actual death [as opposed to just the threat of one] in the family that made me... feel invincible... if that makes sense. "My grandma just died! God wouldn't fuck us over like that right now..." And frankly, I could have cared less if I was really meant to die on the way there)
   
2. Funerals are FAR more painful/difficult to endure in Mexico than the U.S. (The entire fucking town is at your house, as your dead relative sits in the living room... the entire fucking day/night. You have ZERO privacy to cry by yourself, because they're sitting there, staring at you... that's right, they just STARE. No one offers to hug you, or pull you away... they just stare at you as you sob uncontrollably at the casket. In my case, I was greasy and smelly from the 20+ hour non-stop car ride. My hair was in a messy, uncombed braid when I walked into the living room to see my grandmother. I did not bother to comb my hair, change clothes, and much less shower before going in public. I just wanted to go in there, kiss my grandmother, and then continue with the living.The room was packed with people who fell silent when we walked in, they stared at my mom, expecting her to scream or something, and they continued to stare as we struggled to open the casket. They stared as Mom hugged and kissed her mother... and I caught them staring at me as I turned away to sob out of my mom's view. I couldn't whisper the "Perdóneme, abuelita... perdóneme" I had been thinking all day... I couldn't do shit [technically, if I were into theatrics, I could have done A LOT, but as far as I'm concerned, NO ONE will know that AnoMALIE cries]. Let's not forget I had not slept in over 36 hours... and I had only been snacking on 2 granola bars Dad was smart enough to pack. Since the house was packed day and night, I had to sleep sitting up... for maybe 2 hours. Mass is a different story. 6 people are to stand at guard next to the casket at all time... and each person that would volunteer to stand would bring a tear to my eye. So many memories flooded my mind while in church. My grandma wanted to go to church SO badly the second to last Sunday we were in Mexico. Of course, since she was bedridden, we couldn't do anything about it. "You're here now, grandma," was all I could think, and I couldn't stop crying over the state we could finally bring her: dead. From there, we had to man up, and walk behind the hearse all the way to the cemetery as the ladies of town sang the [scary] church songs they've sung for centuries in this town. The trip is long... the songs are sad... and hearing/seeing my mom and her siblings sobbing... that shit made me feel like my chest was ready to explode. And I sang... oh yes... I sang. I bugged my poor grandmother for the last 2 years with fucking guitar hero day and night, why the hell was I going to shut up now? And that, of course, made me cry some more. Then the actual burial was HARD. Something about the part where they close the casket... it... it kills me just a little more inside. "This is it, grandma... no more. No more. Now you're just a memory." Then to see the boys of the town, shoveling dirt on top... not strangers doing their job at Palm... but kids with which I grew up playing tag/basketball/volleyball, kids I fought with almost every summer, kids I'd cuss out in heated arguments... they were the ones helping with a task none of us dared to do: bury my grandmother. It touched my heart... hella. And then to just sit there, by the dirt... holding flowers... staring at that fresh mound of dirt... everyone gone... just you. That's when I can talk to my grandma? When she's in the hole, under all this dirt? Fucked. Up.)
3. My mom is the shit! (she eulogized my grandma right after they finished covering the grave. I've never heard such eloquence. And no, I'm not saying that because she's my mother... EVERYONE there noticed it. EVERYONE there cried. Even the town badass--yeah, we have one of those-- that NEVER shows emotion. No one beats her performance... no one, educated, famous, whatever... my mom made town history that day. She did not cry, her voice did not crack, she did not stutter, she did not have awkward pauses... and the whole time she improvised. My mom only went to 6th grade... yet she is one badass female. BADASS. "Damn *MyBrother*, did you inherit that gift of public speaking?" Bro: No... I fucking wish! I'd be running the world by now! Cousin: Daaaamn, she should write for Obama!)
4. Mexico is GORGEOUS in September! (on our drive through Sonora, Chihuahua and finally Durango, I saw nothing but beauty. The mountains were green, lush fields of wild flowers appeared every couple of minutes... there were deer, eagles!, bunnies, coyotes... I mean... it was absolutely beautiful. I couldn't help but silently thank my grandma...)

My grandma played a GIANT role in my life... something I wasn't very aware of up until the moment I walked into that living-room, that Monday afternoon.
I walk like she did  (shuffling my feet).
I cuss like she did (sweet Jesus, did she cuss! and it was SO cute! "Ahi voy... viejo cabron...").
I hate fish like did (ok, so I eat sushi now, but I can't stand cooking fish).
I puke bile when pissed/nervous like she did.
I mean... the list can go on.
She gave me my name... something I didn't grow fond of until recently.
She purchased my first bike back in like... '93?
She... protected my mom when my grandpa would go fucking crazy... and she would try calming us down as well.
I spent the vast majority of my summers in Mexico. Yes, OFTEN I'd complain... and often I'd straight up try my hardest to avoid visiting my grandparents.
I'd complain over my grandma "not loving me." "Why didn't she have ANY pictures of any of YOUR kids, Mom?!" And it wasn't until I saw her laying in the coffin that I realized... she had no need to have photos of us, she saw us each and every summer. Whether we'd be happy because our crush finally held our hand in public, pissed because we were called in early from play in order to eat dinner, dirty/sweaty after a long day at the park, she had the opportunity to see us, hear us, smell us, feel us. She would wait 9 months to hear/see all our bullshit antics... she got to know us... go as far as advise us (Her: Go to the dance, AnoMALIE. Me: Why?? Her: So you can ::puts her hands up, as if dancing with an imaginary partner:: dance and find yourself a cute guy!).

These past summers, my college summers, I felt regret over going to Mexico so often. I turned down internships, jobs... things that would help further my science career... all for going to Mexico and spending the maximum amount of days possible. Basically, I felt I had wasted my life, for no reason.
And now that I think about it... all that time STILL isn't enough... it WASN'T enough. My grandma, my grandparents deserved that and much more. They gave me so much, yet I gave so little in return.

I'll never forget our last moment together this summer:

We sat in her room, saying our goodbyes 6 hours before our departure time... she laid in her bed, immobile... her eyes watery, but Mom, Sis, Aunt, and I "cracking jokes" in hopes of making her smile.

Grandma: When are you coming back?
Mom: December.
Grandma: ... that's... too long.
:: two tears roll down her cheeks::

Mom: No... look, it's September, October, November, December. 4 months. You'll see us in 4 months! :)
Sis: When we get back, you'll probably be walking by then! :)
Me: Yeah, Grandma! And we'll all be here for Christmas! :)
She just looked at us... tears still in her eyes...
Grandma: ...no.
::We hug her::
Mom: I want you to get better! Start eating... and... move those legs of yours! :)

She gave us her blessing... gently (not like the way in which we'd complain, saying she'd just "slap" our mouth, instead of the real thing)... and she gave me a real (as opposed to an "air") kiss on my cheek.

...I didn't kiss her.
I ran out of the room.

My resilient... "Iron" grandma... all 4 foot 8 of her... is gone. Now just a sweet, sweet memory. Her 89 years of life, a true testament of the courage, patience, and dedication a woman is capable of possessing.

You finally got to rest, abuelita.

RIP

I leave for Mexico again tonight.

My grandma just passed away...

I've never screamed for anyone like that before...

this hurts.

I have the problem where I seem to think my loved ones will live forever...
once they do go, I feel... surprised... even if they WERE in their 80s... with broken bones... and the worst case of senile dementia.
They're MY loved ones. THEY WON'T DIE.

:(

Poor grandma...
poor mom... her birthday's Wednesday...
:(

At least... I'll have great memories with my grandma, right?
I mean... I WAS the only one who could make her laugh this summer... (I'd sing on guitar hero, and she'd laugh at me... which I didn't mind, because I do anything to make people smile, and to make HER smile, in all that anguish she was in... I'd do ANYTHING, even if it meant having the rest of town think I was crazy with my wail-singing in the mornings and evenings. "WHY DO THEY ALWAYS SEND THE POOOOOOOR!!?!" hahaha)

Abuela, la adoro!!!!
Thank you for EVERYTHING you ever gave me... and I wish I had one one-hundredth of the courage and patience you had.
And thanks for my mean-mug... I represent Garcia to the max with that bad boy!
:)

La Diferencia.

Aunque malgastes el tiempo sin mi cariño,
Y aunque no quieras este amor que yo te ofrezco,
Y aunque no quieras pronunciar mi humilde nombre,
de cualquier modo yo te seguiré queriendo.

Yo se que nunca tu podras jamas amarme.
Que a tu cariño llegué demasiado tarde.
No me desprecies,
No es mi culpa,
No seas mala.
Porque tu eres
de quien quiero enamorarme.

Que daño puedo hacerte con quererte?
Si no me quieres tu, yo te comprendo.
Perfectamente sé que no nací yo para ti,
pero que puedo hacer si ya te quiero?

Déjame vivir de esta manera.
Yo te quiero tal cual y sin condiciones.
Sin esperar que un día tu me quieras como yo,
consciente estoy mi amor que nunca me querrás.

Talvez mañana yo despierte solo,
pero por el momento quiero estar soñando.
No me despiertes tu,
no ves que asi yo soy feliz?
Consciente estoy mi amor,
que no eres para mi.
No hay necesidad que me desprecies,
tu ponte en mi lugar, a ver que harias?

La diferencia entre tu y yo
talvez sería, corazón,
que yo en tu lugar si te amaría.

Ditto.

Attack of the wedding, once again

Yesterday, my good ol' cousin officially jumped into the "I'M MARRIED, MUTHAFUCKA!" wagon.

And yes... I was a bridesmaid... and YES, my day was not... the greatest.

Here's why:

(Hairdresser's place, 9AM, four of us are getting our hair done at the place)

Hairdresser number 1: AnoMALIE, come with me.
(as I walk up to HDN1, to walk towards her chair)
Hairdresser number 2: (in Spanish) HDN1, do you know how to comb hair?
Hairdresser number 1: (pausing) ... yeah... I think I do.
Me: (internally) Grrrreat! I'm FUCKED!!!

(a little later, same place)

Hairdresser: So, who's the bride?
Me: None of us... she's related to the bride, the rest of us are related to the groom.
Hairdresser: How old are you?
Me: 24
Hairdresser: So when are you getting married?
Me: (internally) So I can be the ex-wife, mother of five, to some ex-cholo like you are? (spoken) Never!

-When I went to get my make-up done, my sis and little cousin had the awesome make-up artist... while I got the one who looked like Marylin-Manson-Phase Rose McGowan... No need to discuss how I turned out.
-Church time rolled around and I was the last one to be told who I was partnered up with (I don't like ending my sentences with prepositions, but I'm in a hurry to finish... but it's fucking killing me!).
-I was the tallest girl, and my poor godfather (my partner), was down to my ear...
-After church, I came home to change into flip flops for the rest of the wedding.
-I watched my godson treat OUR cousin like his girlfriend all night. It was... awkward as fuck.
-My brother got HAMMERED... I mean... fucking trashed... and was going around making an ass of himself with all the family members he could find, no matter their age (toddlers to 80 something year olds... he did not discriminate).
- The bridesmaid dress was a piece of shit. It kept rolling off my shoulders... to the point where the front of my bra was showing, in its entirety, when we did the traditional dance in which all the bridesmaids hold hands, single-filed, and run around the entire salon. I could not do a thing about it, since both my hands were busy, and I was in mid sprint... NOT COOL. I might as well have gone to the wedding in a skirt and Bustier.

More things occurred... but the thing that ruined the night, by far, was my drunken brother. We had to bring him home, with the help of 4 guys and a girl, before the wedding was over.
I'd be a little more pissed had no one else at the party been drunk...
but you see... it was Open Bar... and... well... boys and girls (alike) were shit faced, left and right.

Oh, the memories!

all ten fingers, all ten toes

I survived.
By a hair.

No, I'm not saying that because I almost fell of a cliff... or even had a gun pointed at my face (I did have a gun pointed at me, but it was at a military checkpoint, so it doesn't count), but because there were plenty of circumstances where I felt I'd die of a heart attack.
The vibe this summer was... surreal, to say the least.
It was a war zone, plain and simple. The law vs. The criminals... and the criminals are winning, CLEARLY.

I spent a majority of the time crying... ok, not crying (I only did that at night, maybe four times in all), but I whined a lot. And I almost got on a bus to come back to Vegas 3 times.
My day consisted of: waking up as late as possible, that usually being 11AM, playing Guitar Hero World Tour (and mastering all 4 "instruments," including the vocals... where I learned I could probably replace Chris Martin in real life without anyone noticing... well, up until we'd have to go on tour or film music videos, where they'd see that no, I am NOT an emaciated British man) from 12-2PM, watching my soap opera from 2-3, studying for the GRE from 3PM to 6PM (I looked FORWARD to this! Can you believe that?!), preparing to go out to the park from 6-7, going to the park and sometimes playing volleyball (when the dumb cunts would let me... my God, was there hostility towards me this year!) from 7-9:15PM, moping around the house until my brain couldn't take it anymore and gave up the fight against the sandman... which would be around 1 AM.
I avoided going to the "cities," out of fear of bumping into the "Zetas."

All in all... it was terrible.

And no... it DID NOT help me forget the June Cancun Debacle.

(However, coming home sure felt great... my friends are the shit!!!)

Guh-bah!

I leave for Mexico later today.

We're traveling through Juarez.

...
In all honesty, I've never been so scared.

Please, I mean this with all my heart: pray for my family.

My only wish is to come back alive from this shit (to suffer some more because of love troubles... haha).

Have a great life, people... mine is spiraling out of control.

I've never been there...

So... I came clean to MGH in Cancun.
Of course, I needed the help from my cousin... and I waited until Thursday to let him in on the news.

I spent Thursday visiting Chichen Itza from 6 AM until 8 PM. I was driven to my hotel only to be told it was on fire.
yes...
My hotel was on fire, and I had to stand outside.
We were evacuated, but I was worried because MGH and Mooney were separated from my sis and I, since they didn't go on the tour with us.
After being allowed to my room in complete darkness to collect "only the essential!" I was reunited with Mooney and MGH. We took a taxi to a different hotel that we were set up to stay for the remainder of our visit.

I noticed MGH was a bit weird... and he then told me Mooney had told him I "needed to tell him something" and that I "would get sad whenever he went out with his friends."
I would have told him the truth right then and there, but since TravelinDin was in the room, I acted like he was crazy.
We proceeded to go to a nightclub... all 11 of our gang (we befriended all the teens of the hotel, haha), where I noticed he would hang around us more often than usual (we had gone to another club on Sunday, where he pretty much vanished into the crowd after half an hour).
I danced with him for a while, but once 3 AM rolled around, my sis was ready to drop and she wanted to leave. So we did... hence, I couldn't talk to him about the day's events.

The fact MGH hadn't said anything about Thursday was bugging the shit out of me, so come Friday afternoon, I told him after a dinner at Margaritaville.
Originally, I wasn't going to... but I was buzzed from a loaded margarita (I also hadn't had food that day, so I became buzzed almost immediately).

Mooney and TravelinDin left Margaritaville, but I heard a song that stopped me in my tracks as I was walking out.

Me: THIS IS MY SONGGGG!
MGH: Then let's stayyy!
Me: Oh my God... why are they playing THIS song?
MGH: IDK... let's listen.

So these break dancers started doing a show on stage to my song.
The liquid courage got to me, and I said:
"Mooney told me what she old you..."
MGH: About what?
Me: (giving him my "Oh, don't you act like you don't know what I'm talking about!" look, but at the same time immediately regretting ever opening my mouth) You know..
MGH: About you getting bummed out when I go out?
Me: No... come on... she said someth... oh my god... did that guy just do that?!
(I look over to the break dancers who were doing some crazy shit with their bodies)
Me: Man, these girls are gone! let's catch up!

And... that's how that ended.
He acted like he didn't know what was going on... this can't be good... he doesn't want me to talk about it... I know it... wow... just... wow...
No need to press the matter... I felt stupid enough.

I finally told him "you know... Mooney told you the truth... I do like you" at 1 AM today. No, not on the phone... not on skype... through a message on facebook.
Yes. I said a lot of things... including this line, that may sound corny as fuck, but I meant/mean with all sincerity: To me, you are perfect.

I avoided him the rest of the day... No need to say more... I know the outcome.

He left for Mexico today...
I leave for another part of Mexico Tomorrow.
I won't see him/hear from him until late August, if I'm lucky.

And that's how we end things with that story (sorry I got you involved in this, Mooney... but you have no idea how much I appreciate your assistance. Thank you. You were right... it felt good to get it all out... to be blunt about it... even if the outcome was not the one desired. Let's never speak of this again... I feel stupid enough for involving you in all this shit :( ).

But let's get to the imprtant part of this all: What was the song playing in the background as my heart was breaking Friday afternoon at Margaritaville?
The song that stopped me in my tracks, gave me courage, and eventually made everything seem to go in heart-breaking slow motion?



I kid you not.
:(

My life is a motherfucking movie... one in which I don't enjoy being such a lonely protagonist.

baaack from cancun

I had thought about updating on the day I arrived, but I was tired... and the following day I had to get up early... and it was just a longggg ass day.
So I decided to update now, at two am of the long ass day.

Anyway, I will post Cancun photos tomorrow... if I remember.

The trip wasn't a bust... just... well, only in the heart department. That shit went down just like everyone predicted.
Surprise, surprise... I might as well join a convent by now... this sucks.

I leave for Durango on Wedensday... I think.

Here's to me surviving this shit.

la playa

I leave for Cancun tomorrow.
This trip has been in the works since... shoot... October? November? I can't remember... but I just thought it was never going to get here.

I will come back tanner...
and probably more miserable than I already am.
I could almost put money on it.

:T

Hurting.

Soy fea... siempre lo fui.
Nadie me quiere, nadie me quiso, y nadie me querrá.


Sometimes... it even hurts to breathe.

family drama

Your aunt's son-in-law just stressed her out so badly, she had a heart-attack and died.
She was a sweet, kind-hearted lady who was a constant, almost carbon copy of your deceased grandmother.
He is a crazy mother-fucker who loves finding any excuse to sue people... and he is handicapped.

Do you:
A) get on the next flight headed for the bay area to find this fuck and beat/choke him with his own cane.
B) harbor so much hate for this motherfucker, the next time you see him, you'll push him down the highest altitude possible... in hopes he lands on the sharpest objects in the vicinity.
C) pray to a higher power that this subhuman piece of shit dies a slow, painful, and above all LONELY death.
D) cry... your last connection to your grandmother just passed away... harboring any bad feelings will only make your hypochondriac ass suffer a heart-attack, aunt-style.

How can such trash inhabit this world?

:(

mmm... bacon!

Is it fucked up of me to sort of be happy that someone's vacation has totally been ruined?

It is, huh?

Even if we're speaking MGH here?


So we talked it out... and like always, I have opted to trust... and well, basically be an idiot about it.
We're not an item by any means... but... we're at this weird place where we like each others company... so we spend hours talking to each other about 3 times a week.

Anyway, during one of these marathon conversations, we talked about his trip to Mexico.
He left Friday night, and comes back on... Sunday?
He was stoked... making huge plans of being drunk every single day, and hitting up parties left and right.
And... well...
What has been on the news this whole week?
Yeah.
I love pigs.
hahaha.

Needless to say, it totally ruined his trip, since he was planning on partying it up with his pals (boys AND gals... which no matter how much I claim not to be bothered by it, I totally lose sleep over this shit).
To kill it, today's his birthday...
and everything's cancelled/closed!!!

AHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Oh my god... I'm terrible...
but what can I say?
Someone in Heaven really likes me.
:]


And as an update on HHT, the gym dude:
I've totally been ignoring the poor guy.
I've done everything but physically cling to the walls at the gym, and morph into the bricks, each time I see him walking by.
It's not that he's ugly, look at him: (I would lick that body up and down until I would literally run out of saliva... wow)
But... I don't... I just... he's not... uff... it's just awkward.
And I can't forget to mention how many crazy-looking chicks I get staring at me each time HHT says what's up...
you can see them thinking shit like "WTF is he doing talking to her?! Don't talk to her, talk to ME!! MEEEEE! I WILL FUCK YOU! Boy... I. WILL. FUCK. YOU. HARD."
As I stand there like "Can I please... like... shrink... and like... can I go into the room and just disappear? What have I done to deserve this?"

I hate myself for admitting this, but I like my guys tall, nerdy, and pretty much scrawny... how sad.
... and wrong.
WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE, ANOMALIE! The big... buff... coffee... mmmm.
(yet, here you have me, severely emotionally-attached to a pigeon-toed, thank-God-no-longer-teen-aged-man-child that has braces and a beer belly... my priorities are ALL fucked up!)

Jimmy-gym-time!

How do you know you're well on your way to becoming a gym rat?
More than two trainers know your name and call it out each time they see you anywhere.

Har har...
To add to that, today while sitting in one of the classes, I was calmly (somewhat sadly... I'm still wounded over MGH being... well... MGH) picking at my nail polish when I notice a dude's body standing eerily close to me.
I look up... and who is it?
THE HOT HOT TRAINER.... with the bombass body... standing next to me, looking right at me.

Hot Hot Trainer: Hi! AnoMALIE, right?
Me: Oh, yeah! Hi!
HHT: I always see you around, just thought I'd introduce myself.

(reaches out to shake my hand... at this point, I was trying my hardest not to pass out... and all the chicks in the class were staring... equally mesmerized by this gorgeous man)

Me: (internally) Hands... so... soft... oh... my... wow... look at those arms... ohhhhh... be cool, AnoMALIE, BE COOL! (spoken) Oh, haha, well, nice to meet you, HHT.
HHT: Yeah, I thought it was about time... and you know... you make me laugh and stuff... and... heh-heh (smile)
Me: haha, cool... well, I'm sure I'll see you around (smile and wave goodbye)

Then... he awkwardly walked out of the room... and I went back to looking nonchalant... while a couple of girls stared at me.

I've heard from another trainer (I'm such a badass, I'm cool with like, 6 trainers... haha) that he's painfully shy... I'm flattered he went through the trouble of walking into a room full of girls (that turn into killer hawks in his presence) just to say what's up to little ol' me and no one else... as awkward as the exchange might have been.
And the funniest thing was that I was the more relaxed of the two. Like a day in the park (it's only once I got home that I started to be girly and all... high school about the event) for me.

<3

And to make things even cooler... the first 2 squares of my 8-pack (I bet Dad I was going to get a 6-pack, but I'm a little too ambitious, so I've changed it to 8-pack... but of course, Dad doesn't know of this change) are starting appear. Sadly, they're the very top squares... so they don't help any when it comes to squeezing into smaller pants.... but they sure do feel nice!
(I wish my entire body cooperated like this!)

haha... the shit I talk about now... insipid.

This old thing?

I'm outside playing with my little cow (Tyson, my 116 pound pit bull) when I notice Dad grilling in a "new" outfit, a baby-blue checkered shirt with jeans of a similar blueish hue.

Me: Ah, shucks, won't you look at that... daddy's all matching!
Dad: oh... this? It's my dad's.
Me: ... oh...

I don't know... but... that just creeps me out... it's not the first time it happens, either.
I guess his siblings gave him all of my grandpa's clothes... and my dad is going off and actually wearing them...

It's just... sad... and a little creepy... but mostly sad.

big brother

I got in trouble for my previous post, so I had to remove it.

Raise your hand if you're not surprised.

I feel like I live in Orwell's 1984.
Fuck.

Cathing up part one:

Ok, so I wasn't supposed to blog or cuss in these last 40 days... but the world seemed to have other plans for me.
I'll mention what's going on currently, followed by possibly the most fucked up scenario of the last month.

Ok, so right now I'm basically the mom of the house.
Mom left to Mexico on Saturday because her older sister, the one who raised her like a daughter, had a mild stroke and heart attack a couple of days ago. This was after my poor auntie had kidney stone issues at the first of this month.
This aunt is also the one solely in charge of caring for my grandma... and grandma is no longer walking, she has some sort of open wound on her leg... and she's just... well, an elderly (89 year old) lady who needs help.
Anyway, now TravelinDin and I are in charge of the house.
I feed the dog, clean the house, and do Mom's real work... as in... I've suddenly turned into my dad's secretary/accountant.
...
but I don't get paid.
yeah...

I feel tired and slightly irritated.

Anyway, my irritation is only going to augment after I mention the huge drama episode I encountered last month... the one that had me on the verge of going on a violent, cuss-word-infested rampage.

So, we (as in, TravelinDin, Mooney, and I) were granted permission to go to Cancun on the second week of June.
Cool up to there.
Mooney was forced to invite this one chick, let's call her Integrity-Lacking-Brat i.e. ILB, sort of as a condition for getting the timeshare.
At first we all groaned over the idea, since we've had issues with this chick before.
When we asked, she was stoked... and basically got the rest of us excited.
Fucking electron...
Anyway, I was STUPID enough to purchase all 4 plane tickets on my credit card, through the advice of my mom.
Mom thought it was fine, since the mothers involved are childhood best friends (ILB's mom, Mooney's mom, and my mom). I had ILB's word she'd pay back.
Suddenly, close to the end of March, Mooney gets texts from ILB saying she's not gonna pay a dime, if we had an issue with that, to call her mom.

This of course, had me fuming... ready to cut a bitch.
$470... 470!!
After much crying and screaming, and trying to get the airline to give me some sort of credit... not much was fixed.

To say I was a sad blob of a mess is an understatement... I damn near dislocated my right leg and left shoulder in my kickboxing classes because I'd kick and punch so wildly.
Rage, dude, RAGE.

Anyway, after Orbitz basically told me "Too bad, soooo fucking sad... you ain't getting shit... get lost!" we did everything in our power to let the world how fucking unfair this all was, and we got a 200 dollar check from ILB's mom. That was that.
Cut your losses, and move on.

So... I did.
But not after almost suffering a stroke and almost becoming a wanted felon for aggravated assault on a dumb, spoiled bitch.

AND that's part one of how/why these last few days have been miserable.

Part two is just... dudes. Like always.

it's great to be back.

No estaba muerta... pero tampoco de parranda

I'M BAAAAAAAAACKKKKK!

Oh man... I feel as if I have been holding my breath underwater for these last couple of weeks.

I'd elaborate, but I'm tired.
Just thought I'd share a little on why I was gone for so long:

Seeing as how not cussing for 40 days and 40 nights was most likely going to fail (and while it did, I was quite good about it this time around... there were only 2 people I'd cuss around, and it was usually in Spanish) on me, I had a back-up plan-- no blogging.

I was tempted... and while I did read other people's blogs and comment once in a while, I kept away from my own.

I did write in my on-line journal once in a while... the much more personal one I've had since high school, but since it's of such a private nature, I didn't consider it blogging.
However... I learned a tough lesson in this short while:
LOCK UP YOUR PERSONAL SHIT!

Yes... my private diary was found by a family member... and shit went south after that... to the point where my private journal is now locked, with no one allowed entrance, but me.
This I find fucked up... because the journal has helped me so much. People were free to contact me and give me advice, console me, talk me out of bad ideas, etc. I love it.
Now, thanks to a nosy dumb fuck who misinterprets and over analyzes shit I wrote five years ago, I'm forced to keep any new readers away.

Aside from this, life has been growing increasingly fucked up.
Like I said, I'll elaborate in the future.
I'm tired... but so fucking damn happy to be back!

I CAN CUSS!!
P.S. Happy Easter to all you who celebrate :] This used to be my favorite holiday... many of my fondest memories were created on this day.

colorful language

So, yet another Ash Wednesday has come...
and I have given something up once again.

No, I didn't give up sex, drugs, or rock n'roll...

I kept it even more difficult:
No cussing.

Again... for the... 12th?13th?14th?15th??? year in a row.

I already said "F*%&ing!!" and a few colorful words in Spanish... all this before noon...
but still...
I'd say I'm doing pretty good.

Here's to 40+ days of talking like Ned Flanders!
Holler!

It's green...

1. Celery
2. Broccoli
3. Parsley
4. Green Apple
5. Cactus.
6. A little bit of OJ

Blend.
Drink.

Am I crazy for liking this shit?

You can't catch me...

(Driving around San Francisco, totally lost, but I'm still enjoying the architecture)

Me: Dude! Those homes are so freakin' cute!
MGH: You love San Francisco because your future husband lives here...
Me: ... (internally) wtf? (spoken) How? I thought all the guys here were gay...
MGH: I'M NOT GAYYYY!

Commitophobe? Maybe just a little....

Fishy Valentine

How's this for a DWEEB:

(Valtentine's day, eating breakfast)
MGH: So... what should we do today... ?
Me: THE MONTEREY AQUARIUM!!!!
MGH: ... o... k...

Once I was at the aquarium, and saw him walking around BORED out of his fucking mind, I realized "AHHHH! It's Valentine's Day!.... and I'm making him stare at fish all day... How fucking stupid can I get?"

Whatever... I had fun.
(Then Karma got me back while bowling later that night. Stupid ass bowling ball with a jagged thumb hole... it cut the shit out of my thumb and broke my nail... piece of shit)

Mensisima

Saturday morning was miserable.
Sure, I love rainy days... but mostly when I'm in the comfort of some sort of heated building.
That being said, here's how STUPID I can be:

My sis purchased Kat Von D's book when it came out in January... two of them, actually.
Since she was born a twin (ok, she wasn't... but we strongly feel she has Vanishing Twin Syndrome, especially since Mom was originally told she was carrying twins during her pregnancy with TravelinDin), she can't do a lot of things by herself... she NEEDS someone by her side.

TravelinDin: Umm... would you mind coming with me to get Katrina's book signed?
Me: Oh, that's who the second book is for?
TravelinDin: Yeah... and the book-signing rules say I can only get one personalized thing from Kat.
Me: .... hmmm... surrrrre....
TravelinDin: Thanks!
Me: But... just watch that day be shitty and rainy... that would suck...

[I should know by now that I should keep my stupid mouth shut... I should get paid for jinxing myself so much]

So here comes Saturday, and its raining buckets outside.
We leave for the 2 PM book signing a little past 12:20 PM with nothing to protect us from the rain but our hoodies.
When we got to the bookstore, we saw the line went all around the building, with not a damn thing to protect us from the elements... but oh, we got to be right in front of the door where Kat Von D was going to be entering the building! Lucky us...

To kill it, there were dumb short females behind me, holding their stupid umbrellas that would pour a waterfall on my sweater... or poke me in the head every three minutes.
I don't know how I managed to be calm and composed for so long... when I really wanted to gouge their eyes out with those bastard umbrellas.

So... we stood in the rain... umbrella-less... with pendejas constantly getting us wet as they chatted away about fucking dumb shit like "OMG... like, I'm training for a marathon... and you would never guess how hard it is!"
Shut the fuck up and keep of me, dumb fuck.

Anyway, at 3 PM I finally get inside the damn building and try to... dry off somehow.
I would grab any part of my sweater and squeeze water out...
My hands were freezing... even purple in parts...
The ass part of my pants was completely soaked (see: dumb cunts with the umbrellas pouring waterfalls onto yours truly)...
and I was shivering, almost uncontrollably.

But FINALLY! I see Kat and Jeff (his name slips my mind... but he's this awesome, eccentric dude that's traveling with Kat, signing the book as well, since he has a part dedicated to him).
I hand my book with the post-it note that reads "Katrina" to the dude standing next to Kat as my sis is getting her book signed.
Kat's apologizing to my sis for 1. making us stand in the rain for so long, and 2. Taking a tiny break in the middle of jotting her name down because she just saw her dad standing next to me (He was saying "That's so cool, Kat... that's so awesome Kat" in a cute little Spanish accent. I turned around to see him because I thought "Dude, what's the deal with this guy?" Only to see Kat look up and scream "YOU GUYS! THIS IS MY DADDY!").
Anyway, after that exchange of love, I was up next.
I stood in front of her, amazed by Jeff's hot-pink eyebrows... and only noticed Kat stretching her hand to shake mine after Jeff's eyebrows moved.

Me: (internally) Wow! those are a shitload of tattooooo..wow!shehassomeverysofthands!!
Kat: Hehe... wow, cool! Do a lot of people call you Kat?
Me: (internally) what?... oh.. umm... fuck... umm... should I say the tru(spoken)... yeah!
Kat: Awesome! That is so cool!
Me: (internally, at Jeff) those are some fucking awesome eyebrows... I love your eyebrows, Jeff... you have beautiful eyebrows!
Kat: There you go, Kat, thanks!
Me: thank you.

....
I.am.a.dick.

I walked out of there totally confused... not even noticing the lady waving the temporary star tattoo in my face... compliments of Kat Von D for Sephora.

So... to sum it all up:
-I stood in the rain for hours, getting completely soaked by dipshit females behind me and their stupid, ugly umbrellas.
-The book I got signed WAS NOT for me.
-I was called by a different name... and acted like it really was mine.
-I didn't talk much to the coolest female alive--aside from Gwen Stefani, of course-- Kat von D, only uttering monosyllabic words.
-I looked like a wet dog when meeting the coolest female alive... and the man with the coolest eyebrows.

I practically get pneumonia in order to do all this... I have a flight to catch on Thursday (oh yeah, I'm doing the bay again from Thursday until Tuesday... I have a problem, I know)...
and...
and this is how I know that:
I AM AN IDIOT.

Stipulations...

Just because I swore off guys for 2009 doesn't mean I can't ogle my hot new trainer... and I can definitely still flirt... right?

(Why the fuck does this shit happen when I swear something off? MAN!)

Resolution

I'm going to be happy starting....
...
.....
......

NOW.
:]

(well, I had actually thought that yesterday, but something happened at the end of the day, and well, it ruined the vibe. But it's all good now)

In Mexico

Today has gone on forever...

I woke up at 6 in the morning.

I still have the cold from hell...

my eyes have been puffballs since... Saturday night.

I haven't seen the gym in 3 fucking weeks! THREE WEEKS!

Yesterday was.. I guess it's called the "wake" in English.

I sat in the front row of the chapel for the majority of the 6 hours my grandpa's body was up there.

I have no clue how many people were there... I know it was too many to count... I saw some of them, but I usually kept my head down whenever I left the chapel thingy for the bathroom. My eyes were a mess, I had no glasses, and my nose was often disgusting, so why look the entire Hometown in the face when I look like that? More than half of those people have never seen adult-ish AnoMALIE without an ounce of eye makeup... less than 5 percent have seen AnoMALIE cry. I wanted to keep it that way.

I did a relatively good job not crying. I only cried three times:

When I first saw my grandpa in our private little "close family" viewing, close to the end when some lady (whose voice I've always claimed to hate) sang a song, then at the very end when I said goodbye for the day.

I cried during the song the hardest.

There was a line about "I'll know it's you when I see the roses... I'll know it's you when I feel the breeze..." and I broke the hell down.

My grandpa loved roses... he planted the ones outside my house in Mexico... they thrived most when they were in his care. God, how he loved those rosebushes. 

So when I heard that, I freaked out and cried... and the breeze line... well... I doubt there's a person out there who doesn't like a slight breeze once in a while.

Today we had an extra hour at the mortuary with Gramps from 8:30 AM until we had to take him to church.

I was cool... up until it came time to see him one last time.

From that moment on I cried... even sobbed when they closed the casket.

Not fun.

Then came mass...

ha.

Our family totally dissed TravelinDin and I. We sat behind the front row we were all supposed to take up. *certain* people wouldn't scoot over.

From that moment on... I wanted to die.

No, not because they made me feel bad... they made me feel furious, but I had to shut the fuck up because I was in church.

The ire made me get so sick, I got those same cramps I would get in college before exams... the ones I get when I'm too anxious.

Well, I tried my best to hold it in (gag reflex is not something I know of... those years with the eating disorer helped with that), but once the service was over, I ran to the bathroom.

I guess everyone noted my absence, and they were furious... waiting for me.

The ride back to the cemetery, and once there, I had everyone pissed at me...

I got the cold shoulder BIG time from everybody.

??

Yeah... that's nice... do that to someone at a funeral, where everyone has their damn feelings shot to fucking hell and the slightest thing can trigger a sobbing attack.

I had to come home early because the pain was unbearable.

I would rush to the bathroom to vomit... then sleep when I wasn't puking... then gave up on sleeping and just played on-line games.

At one point... I do think I said "Oh God... I think I'm gonna die..."

but I'm better.

and I still can't admit my gramps is... you know... it makes me cry.

He's in Mexico... tending the flowers... with my grandma...

atypical wake

Things on the home front have been... weird.

I've seen a little bit of crying...

I only cried Sunday... all the time.

We go to my Dad's youngest sister's house and get together every day. Thats where people have been dropping by to give their condolences.

Typically, we'd be praying and whatnot, but not this time.

My aunts are taken aback by how "skinny" I am... which... clearly they're delusional. They keep asking what my "secret" is.

"Gym, Tia, that's all... also... I've been sick as hell... I usually just eat once a day, if I eat at all... that might have something to do with it."

They also hug me a lot, while saying "look!" as they wrap their arms around me, "Look how I can grab you! Look! My arms wrap completely around you and then some!" All that while others watch...

I've made it my mission to have a cupcake in hand at all times since then.

We're also laughing a lot.

?

We crack jokes, remember funny things  from the past, watch Youtube videos, get buzzed from all the tequila they have in the garage... we even play Guitar Hero.

It makes some sense to act this way, though, since most of us D's (last name) got our sense of humor from this grandpa who just passed away.

He was a freakin' riot in his earlier years. He was a mix of banter and physical comedy... he was sarcastic as well.

Now that he's gone, I'm assuming we're all putting on our best Johnny Carson's and just... making everyone else laugh.

This, of course, throws the visitors off... mainly the "traditional' ones who expect us to all be dressed in All-Black, crying, screaming, praying... looking miserable.

But they see the only screaming being done in the house is by one of us kids going 'FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUU!" when we win/lose on Guitar Hero.

I've also been sick as a dog these last few days. I'm at the stage where I sound like an old lady in the mornings, and a transvestite in the evenings.

Just lovely for when I greet the guests.

My nose is running as well...

I haven't worn an ounce of makeup since Saturday night...

I look like hell... why lie?

And who cares.

Tomorrow's gonna be a very long day...

stop iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!

No matter how much I said I was ready, I wasn't.

I had been told this was going to happen since last month...

an still... I cried... I AM still crying.

My grandfather... the one with the crazy stories about my mom trying to kill him... just died.

I was out... trying to forget he was even sick...

How fucked up is that?

CAN I GET A FUCKING BREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK?!?!?

FUCK, MAN... I'm tired of this shiiiiiiiiiitt!

Sign of things to come?

Hooray for insomnia!

...

Actually... I pretty much spent the day sort of sleeping today.

New Year's Eve was CRAZY.

Think of the craziest thing you can imagine happening to a REAL person... multiply it by three... and you have my new years.

Fights...

getting barred from a certain casino for life...

being lost in the sea of people with nothing on me but my cell phone...

Being in the same small room as Denise Richards... Having her feel so... awkward that she waves, smiles, and says hello to my group as if we're the celebrities...

Having one of your friends diss the hell out of Denise Richards in front of her face, her managers, her bodyguards, her camera crew... just... sweet God... why? She was so nice to us!

Noticing I have bigger ta-ta's than Denise Richards...

Noticing Denise Richards has a bigger ass than I do...

Did I mention cops and security guards and nasty racial slurs? No? Oh... ok... that.

All you can drink bar...

Getting pinched repeatedly by random guys while walking down the strip (is this the new thing to do? WTF?)...

weed, weed, EVERYWHERE!!

puke...

getting chewed out...

chewing people out...

hour-long wait to get out of a fucking parking garage...

20 year olds grinding on me like... dogs in heat...

frowning...

random kisses...

pictures of getting kissed...

continuously being referred to as "YO, BITCH!!" by... a friend...

having my heart broken by... the effects of alcohol...

gaining a sister :] (I LOVE YOU MOONEY!!!)

15 cops...

bathroom brawls...

embarrassment beyond compare...

europeans... everywhere! :]

"AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE!!" "OI, OI, OI!"

crying...

Man... so much more... but I just... don't want to admit it all.

It sucked.

It was mostly bad.

I came home with the shakes, a sore throat, and I slept 2 hours...

Yeah.

I had sushi for breakfast...

I went to mass at 6PM and slept through it all... including the parts where I'd be standing (busting a "horse," where I'd be woken by the feel of my body swaying)... this only irritated the priest, who gave me the evil eye the entire evening (I was sitting in the 3rd row... so yeah...).

I went to my aunt's house, slept on her kitchen table... her reclining sofa... then her fancy sofa. Each time, her annoying little dog was all over me... biting my nose, hair, fingers, sweater... humping my arm, licking my mouth (errgghh), etc. I was too sleepy to defend myself from that little bitch... just giving up and waking up with dog slobber all over my face, dog hair all over my lovely sweater... wondering why the hell nobody got that damn dog off me as I slept like a narcoleptic all over the house.

Came home and talked to the Bay Area Crew... totally lost any sense of tiredness thanks to their goofy asses making me laugh.

... so now I can't sleep...

again.