I really needed this soccer victory from the boys or I'd probably be ripping people's face off by now (even my dad was excited. Listening to him talk about soccer is like listening to a valley girl talk about car engines).
Yesterday was a fucking mess.
One fuck up was my little cousin and her issues with her abusive boyfriend. I don't understand why girls put up with men who raise their voice at them, and I'm especially perturbed when they allow their guys to yank them around in public.
People who just stand there and watch girls get abused by a guy also bother me... I don't understand what goes through those minds, either.
Anyway, it was that subject that had me breathing fire early yesterday.
The day only got shittier as I went to a carne asada/birthday party at night.
There were three boys (they were 22, I'm just resorting to agism right now because of my bad experience with younger "men") who wouldn't leave me and D alone. Fucking meatheads who didn't know what "literature" meant (I was so astonished by this atrocity, that I found myself having a difficult time trying to explain it. "It's... stuff you read. A book. A magazine. A newspaper... umm... that sort of thing. It's... something you read... am I really... doing this?" Guess whose mouth/hand/vagina is never getting ANYWHERE near your dick, homeboy...).
I just tell myself they were being idiots in an attempt to seem... endearing (which is the WORST way to seem endearing. Stupidity is never a desirable trait to me, sorry buddy).
I was growing increasingly agitated by the meatheads trying to flirt (this probably solidifies my status as a bitch, but hey, ask me if I give a fuck), so I moved to the complete opposite side of the house. It ended up being a POOR move, because it was right next to the booze. So... the guys just had an excuse to linger and stare at D and me as we tried eating our food without spilling shit and looking like a couple of reckless toddlers (invite us to a party, and it's guaranteed one of us will leave with a nice little forget-me-not in the form of a ketchup/mustard/salsa/meat-juice stain. It's inevitable).
Ok, so my temper is gradually getting out of hand, then it just... spills over once this motherfucking bitch walks in.
She's the same bitch I always have issues with when my paternal side of the family is involved. She married my first "boyfriend" who is also my first-cousin's first-cousin (but he is of NO relation to me, let's be clear right there. I don't do that relative dating bullshit).
I don't know what the HELL they've told her about me, but out of every encounter we've EVER had-- maybe a total of 25-- she has greeted me ONCE. ONCE. ONE. TIME.
(and that's only because my mom was standing directly next to me, and Mom would have probably punched this bitch's nose clean off her face if she were to snub me in front of my mommy)
WTF, hoe?! What did I ever do to you? We haven't even spoken!
Normally, I wouldn't be so offended (I understand there are shy people out there--like me-- who go "blind" when in a crowd), but you see, when she enters a room... she's... she's the motherfucking Lady Gaga of my social circle.
She makes a scene when she walks in. She. Is. Loud.
And she greets EVERYONE.
But me.
I can only take SO many public snubs before I snatch her cheap-ass Corona bottle out of her hands, break it against the table, and shank her with the shards.
When she did her fucking little snub move once again to me yesterday, I looked directly at D and opened my eyes wide, Can you believe this shit?! See how it's not just my imagination?! I'm going to fucking CHOKE THIS BITCH!
Me: WHAT THE FUCK?!
D kicks me under the table.
D: OH! MY BAD! I didn't know your foot was so close to mine!
D gave me her "Don't be a fucking barbarian!" look.
And just as I was about to start crying (Hey, I'm not made of stone! It's SO hard to practice self-restraint when someone hates you for no fucking reason... and then goes to extremes to belittle you in front of others--who don't defend you, to make matters worse. I don't know why so many fucking people get a kick out of doing that to me. Being mean to a timid girl while in a crowded area is one of the cruelest things a person can do), the cunt's 3-year-old son walked up to me and handed me a lollipop while he screamed "HI!" in my face.
Now THAT almost made me cry.
Wanna hear something creepy? When I see that kid, I sometimes think: You... could have been mine...
How... NOT-me is that? But it's weird and true that I'll catch myself thinking how weird life would be if I would have been in Cunt's place, the mother of this precious (and quite musically talented, I must add) boy.
It's stranger how that little boy likes me so much, when his mom has been nothing but mean to me.
The boy spent the party holding on to my arm or thigh (the thigh hug has always been confusing. From personal experience, I know how embarrassing it is for a kid to realize he/she is hugging the WRONG thigh--I still think about the time I did it and I want the ground to swallow me whole-- but now as an "adult," it's awkward to be the recipient of the thigh-hug. Do I pat his head to make him look up at me, or do I let him keep thinking this is his mom's thigh? He'll let go of me eventually... right? Then I'll find a way to hide from him). And he also kept giving me his belongings before he'd go out to play.
Fucking baby... quit being so cute.
Argh.
I didn't know a better way to cope with all this bullshit, so I just drank and sent an angry tweet.
Who the hell needs therapy when there's liquor and social media within reach?
Yesterday was a fucking mess.
One fuck up was my little cousin and her issues with her abusive boyfriend. I don't understand why girls put up with men who raise their voice at them, and I'm especially perturbed when they allow their guys to yank them around in public.
People who just stand there and watch girls get abused by a guy also bother me... I don't understand what goes through those minds, either.
Anyway, it was that subject that had me breathing fire early yesterday.
The day only got shittier as I went to a carne asada/birthday party at night.
There were three boys (they were 22, I'm just resorting to agism right now because of my bad experience with younger "men") who wouldn't leave me and D alone. Fucking meatheads who didn't know what "literature" meant (I was so astonished by this atrocity, that I found myself having a difficult time trying to explain it. "It's... stuff you read. A book. A magazine. A newspaper... umm... that sort of thing. It's... something you read... am I really... doing this?" Guess whose mouth/hand/vagina is never getting ANYWHERE near your dick, homeboy...).
I just tell myself they were being idiots in an attempt to seem... endearing (which is the WORST way to seem endearing. Stupidity is never a desirable trait to me, sorry buddy).
I was growing increasingly agitated by the meatheads trying to flirt (this probably solidifies my status as a bitch, but hey, ask me if I give a fuck), so I moved to the complete opposite side of the house. It ended up being a POOR move, because it was right next to the booze. So... the guys just had an excuse to linger and stare at D and me as we tried eating our food without spilling shit and looking like a couple of reckless toddlers (invite us to a party, and it's guaranteed one of us will leave with a nice little forget-me-not in the form of a ketchup/mustard/salsa/meat-juice stain. It's inevitable).
Ok, so my temper is gradually getting out of hand, then it just... spills over once this motherfucking bitch walks in.
She's the same bitch I always have issues with when my paternal side of the family is involved. She married my first "boyfriend" who is also my first-cousin's first-cousin (but he is of NO relation to me, let's be clear right there. I don't do that relative dating bullshit).
I don't know what the HELL they've told her about me, but out of every encounter we've EVER had-- maybe a total of 25-- she has greeted me ONCE. ONCE. ONE. TIME.
(and that's only because my mom was standing directly next to me, and Mom would have probably punched this bitch's nose clean off her face if she were to snub me in front of my mommy)
WTF, hoe?! What did I ever do to you? We haven't even spoken!
Normally, I wouldn't be so offended (I understand there are shy people out there--like me-- who go "blind" when in a crowd), but you see, when she enters a room... she's... she's the motherfucking Lady Gaga of my social circle.
She makes a scene when she walks in. She. Is. Loud.
And she greets EVERYONE.
But me.
I can only take SO many public snubs before I snatch her cheap-ass Corona bottle out of her hands, break it against the table, and shank her with the shards.
When she did her fucking little snub move once again to me yesterday, I looked directly at D and opened my eyes wide, Can you believe this shit?! See how it's not just my imagination?! I'm going to fucking CHOKE THIS BITCH!
Me: WHAT THE FUCK?!
D kicks me under the table.
D: OH! MY BAD! I didn't know your foot was so close to mine!
D gave me her "Don't be a fucking barbarian!" look.
And just as I was about to start crying (Hey, I'm not made of stone! It's SO hard to practice self-restraint when someone hates you for no fucking reason... and then goes to extremes to belittle you in front of others--who don't defend you, to make matters worse. I don't know why so many fucking people get a kick out of doing that to me. Being mean to a timid girl while in a crowded area is one of the cruelest things a person can do), the cunt's 3-year-old son walked up to me and handed me a lollipop while he screamed "HI!" in my face.
Now THAT almost made me cry.
Wanna hear something creepy? When I see that kid, I sometimes think: You... could have been mine...
How... NOT-me is that? But it's weird and true that I'll catch myself thinking how weird life would be if I would have been in Cunt's place, the mother of this precious (and quite musically talented, I must add) boy.
It's stranger how that little boy likes me so much, when his mom has been nothing but mean to me.
The boy spent the party holding on to my arm or thigh (the thigh hug has always been confusing. From personal experience, I know how embarrassing it is for a kid to realize he/she is hugging the WRONG thigh--I still think about the time I did it and I want the ground to swallow me whole-- but now as an "adult," it's awkward to be the recipient of the thigh-hug. Do I pat his head to make him look up at me, or do I let him keep thinking this is his mom's thigh? He'll let go of me eventually... right? Then I'll find a way to hide from him). And he also kept giving me his belongings before he'd go out to play.
Fucking baby... quit being so cute.
Argh.
I didn't know a better way to cope with all this bullshit, so I just drank and sent an angry tweet.
Who the hell needs therapy when there's liquor and social media within reach?
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