When I have bad days, they're BAD days.
My good days? They're fucking amazing.
Today has to go down in AWESOME DAY history, though. It was... great.
This last week was good for the most part. Throughout the week, I smiled and laughed a lot... I even found myself dancing around for no particular reason.
I was just a happy girl.
Today capped it all.
The day started off... well, like any day can start at 5:30AM after going to bed at three in the morning, drunk.
I woke up still buzzing, but a blissful buzz that made me nonchalant about everything. I only cared about my pink eyes-- not the gross conjunctivitis kind, but the dry-eyes kind.
I also had a terrible stomach ache.
Yesterday's food, while viciously delicious and thoroughly enjoyed by my gustatory glands, was not appreciated as much... actually, it was downright detested, by my intestinal lining.
Fucking Jalisco food... deceivingly delicious only to damn near murder you the next day.
I sat through church, almost falling asleep during various times, but that damn alien fetus in my stomach kept me awake.
THAT was the only downer to my day.
In an attempt to feel better, once I arrived home I decided to run intervals and hill climbs.
Wake up and forget about your stomach being a weak piece of shit! Also, get 100% sober, loser.
My day became brighter.
I then showered, which always makes the day that much cooler.
THEN I saw how Manchester United received their trophy.
THEN I watched PUMAS get their 7th championship.
I was just kicking back, completely elated.
Of the three soccer leagues I follow (Spanish, English, and Mexican), my three teams were champions.
No, I'm not a bandwagoner. I have proof of my lengthy fellowship for each one (ManU was thanks to Beckham... because he has ALWAYS been ridiculously hot. Barça because they had a successful Mexican on their squad, Rafa Marquez, then Gio dos Santos. And finally, UNAM I've liked since high school, when I had that university as one of my top choices. So those who accuse me of jumping on a bandwagon can go eat a dick). I've been there for the good and the bad. I refused to participate in the "empañolada" when I went to the Barça game. They were 3rd place that year, yet there I was, supporting the dudes in Camp Nou.
Only slight distress is trying to come up with a team to support for the Champs League final. I'm cool with whatever outcome, because if ManU is to lose to anyone, I'm glad it's Barcelona. I'd go ballistic if it were Madrid. And if ManU wins? Ok, I want THEM to win... because they have Chicharito.
Anyway, the awesomeness continued... because I went shopping. Well, shopping sucks... but I did get some new shirts. New shirts are always applauded.
THEN, I wanted some raspberries, so I asked Mom if she could go to Sam's Club and buy a bulk package of them. When we went, we saw this for 10 bucks:
I was on that in a heartbeat.
You have NO idea how... FELIZ cherries make me. I am not exaggerating when I say: Cherries MAKE MY LIFE.
But the REAL magic? The REAL awesome news that made me... freak out?
Ready for this?
Ok:
Thanks to my mom, I've been asked to be a regular columnist in a magazine!
NO. SHIT.
When Mom told me, I nearly fell over. I thought she was joking.
(Sister's reaction was: LAME! ... ???)
The magazine has a very... specific target group.
It's a magazine that will only be distributed here, LA, Chicago, and... I forgot the other city. I tend to go deaf when I'm excited.
It's for people living in the US, but with Durango roots.
Aha! The catch!
I'd write short-stories based on my experiences IN Durango, traveling TO Durango, being AWAY from Durango... just... memoirs of a Durango chick, I guess.
I haven't accepted... because I KNOW this will get me in trouble. I'm misunderstood as is, I can only imagine the bullshit I'll face once I start writing shit and my sarcasm/humor won't connect.
I don't care about getting paid. I don't care that the magazine will not be widely distributed... I just... dude, I get to write!
And the weird thing was that Mom was super excited for me and... she thought of me when they asked HER to write the column (she's a poet/essayist... although not professional, since she never pursued it. But she's INCREDIBLE with words).
My mom wants ME to write. Is that... does that sound crazy to anyone else?
Fucking perfect Sunday.
I don't know... I'm still... taking in the weird feeling that is being asked to write for people. It's so... bizarrely exhilarating.
... OK, I'll quit being optimistic now, since that always wrecks shit.
Shhhhhh! I'm not mentioning another word of this again.
My good days? They're fucking amazing.
Today has to go down in AWESOME DAY history, though. It was... great.
This last week was good for the most part. Throughout the week, I smiled and laughed a lot... I even found myself dancing around for no particular reason.
I was just a happy girl.
Today capped it all.
The day started off... well, like any day can start at 5:30AM after going to bed at three in the morning, drunk.
I woke up still buzzing, but a blissful buzz that made me nonchalant about everything. I only cared about my pink eyes-- not the gross conjunctivitis kind, but the dry-eyes kind.
I also had a terrible stomach ache.
Yesterday's food, while viciously delicious and thoroughly enjoyed by my gustatory glands, was not appreciated as much... actually, it was downright detested, by my intestinal lining.
Fucking Jalisco food... deceivingly delicious only to damn near murder you the next day.
I sat through church, almost falling asleep during various times, but that damn alien fetus in my stomach kept me awake.
THAT was the only downer to my day.
In an attempt to feel better, once I arrived home I decided to run intervals and hill climbs.
Wake up and forget about your stomach being a weak piece of shit! Also, get 100% sober, loser.
My day became brighter.
I then showered, which always makes the day that much cooler.
THEN I saw how Manchester United received their trophy.
 |
| CHICHARITOOO! |
 |
| CHIIIIICHAAAAARIIIITOOOO! |
 |
| 7, suckaaas! I love these guys! |
Of the three soccer leagues I follow (Spanish, English, and Mexican), my three teams were champions.
No, I'm not a bandwagoner. I have proof of my lengthy fellowship for each one (ManU was thanks to Beckham... because he has ALWAYS been ridiculously hot. Barça because they had a successful Mexican on their squad, Rafa Marquez, then Gio dos Santos. And finally, UNAM I've liked since high school, when I had that university as one of my top choices. So those who accuse me of jumping on a bandwagon can go eat a dick). I've been there for the good and the bad. I refused to participate in the "empañolada" when I went to the Barça game. They were 3rd place that year, yet there I was, supporting the dudes in Camp Nou.
 |
| Visiting the place where magic happens. |
Anyway, the awesomeness continued... because I went shopping. Well, shopping sucks... but I did get some new shirts. New shirts are always applauded.
THEN, I wanted some raspberries, so I asked Mom if she could go to Sam's Club and buy a bulk package of them. When we went, we saw this for 10 bucks:
 |
| Oh. My. God! |
You have NO idea how... FELIZ cherries make me. I am not exaggerating when I say: Cherries MAKE MY LIFE.
But the REAL magic? The REAL awesome news that made me... freak out?
Ready for this?
Ok:
Thanks to my mom, I've been asked to be a regular columnist in a magazine!
NO. SHIT.
When Mom told me, I nearly fell over. I thought she was joking.
(Sister's reaction was: LAME! ... ???)
The magazine has a very... specific target group.
It's a magazine that will only be distributed here, LA, Chicago, and... I forgot the other city. I tend to go deaf when I'm excited.
It's for people living in the US, but with Durango roots.
Aha! The catch!
I'd write short-stories based on my experiences IN Durango, traveling TO Durango, being AWAY from Durango... just... memoirs of a Durango chick, I guess.
I haven't accepted... because I KNOW this will get me in trouble. I'm misunderstood as is, I can only imagine the bullshit I'll face once I start writing shit and my sarcasm/humor won't connect.
I don't care about getting paid. I don't care that the magazine will not be widely distributed... I just... dude, I get to write!
And the weird thing was that Mom was super excited for me and... she thought of me when they asked HER to write the column (she's a poet/essayist... although not professional, since she never pursued it. But she's INCREDIBLE with words).
My mom wants ME to write. Is that... does that sound crazy to anyone else?
Fucking perfect Sunday.
I don't know... I'm still... taking in the weird feeling that is being asked to write for people. It's so... bizarrely exhilarating.
... OK, I'll quit being optimistic now, since that always wrecks shit.
Shhhhhh! I'm not mentioning another word of this again.
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