I'll attack the topics running rampant in my head like I attack steaks: from the crispy burnt corners first up until I reach the bloody center.
Burnt corner: Babies. (The way this could be misinterpreted... my god...)
Friday I attended my cousin/childhood bestie's baby shower.
This sucked balls because:
1. It was a Friday afternoon.
We're all a bunch of Catholic Mexicans... so meat is off limits on Fridays.
What kind of fucking party can a bunch of Mexicans have WITHOUT beef (see what I did there?)?
A fucking lame one, that's the type.
2. I went ALONE.
Mom was supposed to join me, but bailed last SECOND. As far as family parties loaded with screaming children go, Mom joins me because she's my wingman... woman? She's the one who finds us a seat and starts the conversations. What the fuck do I care about talking to old ladies? If I could have shit my way, without getting weird stares, I'd be running around in the backyard like the annoying, loud kids. I DON'T care to talk about the future, or my relationship status, or my LACK of desire to procreate. I don't give a shit about marriage, or babies, or... novelas... I mean... I pretty much sit there and smile whenever they say anything in my direction... I'll nod when I think it's directed at me.
So, Mom covers me here, and does all the talking FOR me. Take her away from the equation and you might as well put a bullet through my head.
3. The family members involved in this babyshower are the family members who resent the fucking shit out of us.
Add to that, the fact that the cunt who was my (very physically/verbally abusive) babysitter was also there. I hadn't seen her in YEARS... and she was the first person I saw the moment I kicked the door open (since I went alone, I had to carry the gift by myself. I purchased the fucking high chair, thinking I'd have Mom to help me bring it to the party. I was lucky in the sense that the door was cracked open, so I pushed it... with my foot.. a little hard so I could shove my ass in there before the door closed on me. I'm a resourceful young lady, after all... somewhat barbaric, but always resourceful). She looked surprised (not before looking like her typical mean, psychopathic bitch self), I felt the room go up forty degrees and I suddenly couldn't focus on a damn thing in the room. It's crazy how stress and anxiety fucks with the brain. This girl still turns me dysfunctional and stupid the moment I see her... I'm surprised I didn't piss my pants like some terrified chihuahua. I hate her, and I definitely could beat her to a bloody pulp NOW, but the anxiety induced from the memories still suffocates me and renders me useless. Weird, crazy shit.
SO! All of these factors came together and freaked me out.
I greeted my cousin/childhood bestie, chatted about how stupid it was to throw a party on a Friday afternoon during Lent season... and how awkward it was for me... and she basically excused me to jet out of the party and on with my life.
My other brush with a baby this weekend was yesterday.
I don't really baby sit this kid, per se... but I do hang out with him for about three hours on Saturdays and sometimes Monday/Tuesday.
He's my cousin's baby... and so, each time I visit my aunt, the baby's there.
This cousin-- while I do love him dearly since we grew up together and shared some really good times, as well as VERY FUCKING BAD times-- is BAD news. He has terrible habits... and he's very violent. As a kid, he was a total terror.
The moment I found out he was going to be a dad, I knew the baby would have the odds completely against him.
The baby's two years old, and in these two years, I've seen him evolve (DEvolve?) into... a bad kid. It's upsetting and heartbreaking and slightly enraging.
He's a sweetheart, I promise... but he has an evil streak... and that shit is SCARY.
Each time I hang out with the kid, I try very hard to instill good in him. I teach him to be kind, and polite... and play nice. It's why I willfully spend three hours of my weekend with him.
Yesterday, when I noticed he was terrorizing my aunt, being a brat and crying each time she'd refuse to follow his instructions (he doesn't talk, so he just screams and kicks and slaps you into submission), I decided to take him from her hair for a bit. I took him outside and thought I'd be able to wear him out, so he'd just knock out once I brought him back inside.
Everything was going well at first. I was playing tag with him, running sprints around chairs, juking like a football player, running basketball drills... playing soccer... he even had me shooting free-throws for about ten minutes (he'd shove the ball in my hand and demonstrate, viciously, WHAT I should be doing. The kid is a fucking tyrant).
I was getting tired from all my assholery (seriously, do normal girls play like that with two year olds? I wasn't being tender at all... I was just being hyper-- a total meathead)... and was taking longer to complete the tasks.
I was performing my goaltending duties, retuning a ball the baby had kicked, so my back was turned to him. I heard him charging at me, but I thought he was just trying to beat me to the ball. I was bent over, reaching for the ball, when suddenly, the freakin' kid slaps the hell out of my ass... and I mean... like... in a pervy fashion... hand ALL UP in my... yeah.
I immediately stood up and held onto my ass, looking at him ready to scold him.
He had the creepiest, meanest smirk on his face.
It freaked me out.
I have no idea how a "normal" person would have reacted to this... maybe gently grabbed his hand and explained why that was something one does not do.
But not me.
"Who taught you that?!" I screamed. "No. NO! I'm not playing anymore!"
I stomped into the house AND HE LAUGHED... CACKLED!
...
I'm not quite sure who the baby is here...
Burnt corner: Babies. (The way this could be misinterpreted... my god...)
Friday I attended my cousin/childhood bestie's baby shower.
This sucked balls because:
1. It was a Friday afternoon.
We're all a bunch of Catholic Mexicans... so meat is off limits on Fridays.
What kind of fucking party can a bunch of Mexicans have WITHOUT beef (see what I did there?)?
A fucking lame one, that's the type.
2. I went ALONE.
Mom was supposed to join me, but bailed last SECOND. As far as family parties loaded with screaming children go, Mom joins me because she's my wingman... woman? She's the one who finds us a seat and starts the conversations. What the fuck do I care about talking to old ladies? If I could have shit my way, without getting weird stares, I'd be running around in the backyard like the annoying, loud kids. I DON'T care to talk about the future, or my relationship status, or my LACK of desire to procreate. I don't give a shit about marriage, or babies, or... novelas... I mean... I pretty much sit there and smile whenever they say anything in my direction... I'll nod when I think it's directed at me.
So, Mom covers me here, and does all the talking FOR me. Take her away from the equation and you might as well put a bullet through my head.
3. The family members involved in this babyshower are the family members who resent the fucking shit out of us.
Add to that, the fact that the cunt who was my (very physically/verbally abusive) babysitter was also there. I hadn't seen her in YEARS... and she was the first person I saw the moment I kicked the door open (since I went alone, I had to carry the gift by myself. I purchased the fucking high chair, thinking I'd have Mom to help me bring it to the party. I was lucky in the sense that the door was cracked open, so I pushed it... with my foot.. a little hard so I could shove my ass in there before the door closed on me. I'm a resourceful young lady, after all... somewhat barbaric, but always resourceful). She looked surprised (not before looking like her typical mean, psychopathic bitch self), I felt the room go up forty degrees and I suddenly couldn't focus on a damn thing in the room. It's crazy how stress and anxiety fucks with the brain. This girl still turns me dysfunctional and stupid the moment I see her... I'm surprised I didn't piss my pants like some terrified chihuahua. I hate her, and I definitely could beat her to a bloody pulp NOW, but the anxiety induced from the memories still suffocates me and renders me useless. Weird, crazy shit.
SO! All of these factors came together and freaked me out.
I greeted my cousin/childhood bestie, chatted about how stupid it was to throw a party on a Friday afternoon during Lent season... and how awkward it was for me... and she basically excused me to jet out of the party and on with my life.
My other brush with a baby this weekend was yesterday.
I don't really baby sit this kid, per se... but I do hang out with him for about three hours on Saturdays and sometimes Monday/Tuesday.
He's my cousin's baby... and so, each time I visit my aunt, the baby's there.
This cousin-- while I do love him dearly since we grew up together and shared some really good times, as well as VERY FUCKING BAD times-- is BAD news. He has terrible habits... and he's very violent. As a kid, he was a total terror.
The moment I found out he was going to be a dad, I knew the baby would have the odds completely against him.
The baby's two years old, and in these two years, I've seen him evolve (DEvolve?) into... a bad kid. It's upsetting and heartbreaking and slightly enraging.
He's a sweetheart, I promise... but he has an evil streak... and that shit is SCARY.
Each time I hang out with the kid, I try very hard to instill good in him. I teach him to be kind, and polite... and play nice. It's why I willfully spend three hours of my weekend with him.
Yesterday, when I noticed he was terrorizing my aunt, being a brat and crying each time she'd refuse to follow his instructions (he doesn't talk, so he just screams and kicks and slaps you into submission), I decided to take him from her hair for a bit. I took him outside and thought I'd be able to wear him out, so he'd just knock out once I brought him back inside.
Everything was going well at first. I was playing tag with him, running sprints around chairs, juking like a football player, running basketball drills... playing soccer... he even had me shooting free-throws for about ten minutes (he'd shove the ball in my hand and demonstrate, viciously, WHAT I should be doing. The kid is a fucking tyrant).
I was getting tired from all my assholery (seriously, do normal girls play like that with two year olds? I wasn't being tender at all... I was just being hyper-- a total meathead)... and was taking longer to complete the tasks.
I was performing my goaltending duties, retuning a ball the baby had kicked, so my back was turned to him. I heard him charging at me, but I thought he was just trying to beat me to the ball. I was bent over, reaching for the ball, when suddenly, the freakin' kid slaps the hell out of my ass... and I mean... like... in a pervy fashion... hand ALL UP in my... yeah.
I immediately stood up and held onto my ass, looking at him ready to scold him.
He had the creepiest, meanest smirk on his face.
It freaked me out.
I have no idea how a "normal" person would have reacted to this... maybe gently grabbed his hand and explained why that was something one does not do.
But not me.
"Who taught you that?!" I screamed. "No. NO! I'm not playing anymore!"
I stomped into the house AND HE LAUGHED... CACKLED!
...
I'm not quite sure who the baby is here...
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