Ah, fuck.
Well, not all things can be roses and rainbows.
Yes, I'm still having a great time in Chicago, but today I received some upsetting news.
The day started out entertaining as usual.
Turns out my sister's galan asked her out since 8 in the morning. He picked her up at 10:30 for an all-day date in the city. Very romantic from what I hear.
That meant I got to spend the entire day with the lovely ladies of the house.
We exercised for two hours once D left, we then showered, cleaned up, and chatted over lunch.
I then saw my brother's DNA info was finally posted:
Turns out my dad's Russian/Ukrainian.
...
YEAH...
W.T.F.
Well, his haplogroup is Indo-European. A large percentage of East Iranians are of this group, as are a large percentage of men living in the Hindi-speaking portions of India.
His "ancestors may be responsible for the birth and spread of Indo-European languages." "English, French, German, Russian, Spanish, and several Indian languages such as Bengali and Hindi."
"Around 40 percent of men living in the Czech Republic across the steppes to Siberia" are of this haplogroup.
Ooooo.... aaaaaa.
This haplogroup is also believed to have domesticated the horse.
OOOOOO! AAAAAAA!
Explains my fascination with horses... and how I have yet to meet a horse that does NOT like me (and maybe why my fucking head is so goddamn long).
ANYWAY! Reading all the information provided on the website had me all stoked.
So I texted Rafa and let him know I had read the results.
He wrote back disappointed. But reminded me that he was going to find out his work destination in 45 minutes (today was his "Flag Day" at the State Department).
I told him to keep me posted.
In the meantime, I called Mom to tell her about the damn DNA test bullshit... because I was still an excited little baby.
I told her everything... then reminded her about Rafa.
She told me to call her if he texted me with a response.
Two hours passed, and he hadn't written back.
I knew something was up. A couple of years back, he called us two seconds after being told he was going to work at London's parliament... and now... two hours had gone by and no word?
I texted him again.
Me: Yo man, text me the place, ok?
Rafa: Did you see my Facebook? Juarez. Such is life. I'll handle my business.
Me: Puuuuuuuuuuuuta madreeeeeeeeee! Wtf?!
Rafa: Dude. It'll be cool. People need to serve there, and I'll be set for Brazil.for the World Cup
Me: I guess... and it's not SO far away...
Me: P.S. Your facebook doesn't say anything, I just checked.
Rafa: Is my Facebook status showing now?
Rafa: And is *mom'sNickname* all mad? haha
Me: Nah, she just hopes you're not upset
Rafa: Nah. It actually does set me up to be in Brazil right afterwards, because when you serve in a place that sucks, you get much more priority over others as to where you wanna go for a second post. So if the system is true to form, the bastards that got sweet posts this time around will get shitty ones next time.
Me: Let's hope man
The news had me in shock. Terrible... extremely disappointed shock.
We had been crossing our fingers for him NOT to get Juarez.
Iraq would have been better than Juarez... ANYWHERE would have been better than Juarez.
My brother speaks Italian, Portuguese, English (obviously), Spanish, and even some Japanese... and he gets sent to JUAREZ. He gets WASTED in Juarez.
Crock of fucking bullshit.
What breaks my heart is his reaction.
That has always been his reaction to everything that happens in his life.
I could never be that calm about BULLSHIT.
It makes me want to cry. I'm sorry for how corny or stupid I may sound right now... but that kind of calm reaction is what makes my brother my... hero. I look up to him because I know I'd be a fucking mess right about now, especially since I know how badly he had wanted to get placed in Brazil, and how badly he DID NOT want to be in Juarez... yet Rafa is strapping his boots and gulping that shit down.
My brother is a HOSS.
Expect me to be a nervous wreck these next two years.
(and yes, this news fucked up the rest of my day. I was further upset because the ladies wanted to go eat at Cheesecake Factory... and I DETEST that place... but apparently, that place is THE hot spot for the 'burbs folk. The parking lot was a disaster by the time we left... as was my stomach. I finally understand why they call that shit JUNKfood. It felt worse than sinning... though sinning typically feels GREAT. I really DO hate sugar and salt... and ESPECIALLY butter. They feel like shit. Fuck my life and my inability to ruin other people's plans)
Well, not all things can be roses and rainbows.
Yes, I'm still having a great time in Chicago, but today I received some upsetting news.
The day started out entertaining as usual.
Turns out my sister's galan asked her out since 8 in the morning. He picked her up at 10:30 for an all-day date in the city. Very romantic from what I hear.
That meant I got to spend the entire day with the lovely ladies of the house.
We exercised for two hours once D left, we then showered, cleaned up, and chatted over lunch.
I then saw my brother's DNA info was finally posted:
Turns out my dad's Russian/Ukrainian.
...
YEAH...
W.T.F.
Well, his haplogroup is Indo-European. A large percentage of East Iranians are of this group, as are a large percentage of men living in the Hindi-speaking portions of India.
His "ancestors may be responsible for the birth and spread of Indo-European languages." "English, French, German, Russian, Spanish, and several Indian languages such as Bengali and Hindi."
"Around 40 percent of men living in the Czech Republic across the steppes to Siberia" are of this haplogroup.
Ooooo.... aaaaaa.
This haplogroup is also believed to have domesticated the horse.
OOOOOO! AAAAAAA!
Explains my fascination with horses... and how I have yet to meet a horse that does NOT like me (and maybe why my fucking head is so goddamn long).
ANYWAY! Reading all the information provided on the website had me all stoked.
So I texted Rafa and let him know I had read the results.
He wrote back disappointed. But reminded me that he was going to find out his work destination in 45 minutes (today was his "Flag Day" at the State Department).
I told him to keep me posted.
In the meantime, I called Mom to tell her about the damn DNA test bullshit... because I was still an excited little baby.
I told her everything... then reminded her about Rafa.
She told me to call her if he texted me with a response.
Two hours passed, and he hadn't written back.
I knew something was up. A couple of years back, he called us two seconds after being told he was going to work at London's parliament... and now... two hours had gone by and no word?
I texted him again.
Me: Yo man, text me the place, ok?
Rafa: Did you see my Facebook? Juarez. Such is life. I'll handle my business.
Me: Puuuuuuuuuuuuta madreeeeeeeeee! Wtf?!
Rafa: Dude. It'll be cool. People need to serve there, and I'll be set for Brazil.for the World Cup
Me: I guess... and it's not SO far away...
Me: P.S. Your facebook doesn't say anything, I just checked.
Rafa: Is my Facebook status showing now?
Rafa: And is *mom'sNickname* all mad? haha
Me: Nah, she just hopes you're not upset
Rafa: Nah. It actually does set me up to be in Brazil right afterwards, because when you serve in a place that sucks, you get much more priority over others as to where you wanna go for a second post. So if the system is true to form, the bastards that got sweet posts this time around will get shitty ones next time.
Me: Let's hope man
The news had me in shock. Terrible... extremely disappointed shock.
We had been crossing our fingers for him NOT to get Juarez.
Iraq would have been better than Juarez... ANYWHERE would have been better than Juarez.
My brother speaks Italian, Portuguese, English (obviously), Spanish, and even some Japanese... and he gets sent to JUAREZ. He gets WASTED in Juarez.
Crock of fucking bullshit.
What breaks my heart is his reaction.
That has always been his reaction to everything that happens in his life.
I could never be that calm about BULLSHIT.
It makes me want to cry. I'm sorry for how corny or stupid I may sound right now... but that kind of calm reaction is what makes my brother my... hero. I look up to him because I know I'd be a fucking mess right about now, especially since I know how badly he had wanted to get placed in Brazil, and how badly he DID NOT want to be in Juarez... yet Rafa is strapping his boots and gulping that shit down.
My brother is a HOSS.
Expect me to be a nervous wreck these next two years.
(and yes, this news fucked up the rest of my day. I was further upset because the ladies wanted to go eat at Cheesecake Factory... and I DETEST that place... but apparently, that place is THE hot spot for the 'burbs folk. The parking lot was a disaster by the time we left... as was my stomach. I finally understand why they call that shit JUNKfood. It felt worse than sinning... though sinning typically feels GREAT. I really DO hate sugar and salt... and ESPECIALLY butter. They feel like shit. Fuck my life and my inability to ruin other people's plans)
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