Kimmie

I've been stretching my last bit of shampoo for a few weeks now... shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me-- or sees me, for that matter.
Since I'm running dangerously low, I decided I'd make the dreaded trip to Walmart after getting my eyebrows threaded.

Everything was fine. In a matter of five minutes, I picked up deodorant, floss, mouthwash, shampoo, and some panty liners (of course these were last, because for some reason, I'm still painfully shy to admit to fellow shoppers than I am indeed a menstruating female).
Mistake number one:
I headed over to the 10-and-less item lane.
I didn't notice the people ahead of me, since I was too taken by the wide variety of beef jerky... like some starved dog. However, my concentration was ruined by a very angry young man, strung-out as fuck, yelling at the lane's cashier. Right there, in front of me, stood a young fellow... probably no older than 23, reeking of... something stronger than cigarette smoke, definitely not weed... but something more offensive to the nostrils... like tar. His black shoulder-length hair was disheveled as fuck... like a rat's nest.
Like the traumatized ex-hood rat I am, I looked down at the floor, hardly breathing (these are the moments where I'd transfigure if I had that super power), hoping not to get noticed. I was unable to leave the lane, because some fucking oblivious bitch parked her overflowing cart directly behind me... practically pinning me on this strung out homeboy.

I guess Strung-out Homeboy was irritated because the cashier was refusing to sell him cigarettes without an ID, and he was losing his shit.
After verbally abusing the shit out of the cashier, the homeboy looked like he was finally calm enough to leave on his merry way.
But of course I couldn't be so lucky... this crazy couldn't leave the store without incident with ME. Homeboy turns around and looks at me. Dude proceeds to grab a magazine off the rack (I don't remember if it was Star, or OK! since I don't keep track of gossip magazines) and tosses it directly in front of me, on the conveyor belt.
Him, looking at the cashier: I bet you won't turn Kim down! Here, I'll save the bitch some trouble and place this here for her. She buys all the covers she's in. Don't say I didn't do something nice!

And the dude stormed off.
The cashier and I stared at each other, I'm sure we were both equally pale.
I looked down at the magazine before the poor man removed it out of the way so I could finally unclench my beauty products and place them on the belt.

Who was I confused for by this drug addict as I clenched some panty liners for dear life in the line at Walmart? Kim Kardashian.

I was so... amused and confused (that's the new insult going around now? Calling a chick "Kim Kardashian"? I wish I was that homegirl, are you fucking kidding me?!), when I sat in my car getting ready to drive off, I committed mistake number two:
I popped out one of my diamond earrings with the seatbelt... and lost it under my car seat.
This wouldn't be bad... if my car seat were fucking normal.
But my car seat isn't normal. My stupid fancy car seat is all hydraulics and bullshit... I can not find a way to retrieve my earring.

I have never owned diamond earrings... and now I know why: BECAUSE I LOSE SHIT! I can't have nice things!

These earrings are the most expensive piece of jewelry I have ever owned... and I fucked that shit up.

I have never been so angry.
I proceeded to throw my phone against the ground and screamed... because I'm fucking level-headed like that.

This day has sucked balls.
This week has SUCKED DICK!

I just want to sleep. Fuck this shit.

They keep multiplying

(I'm sitting at a table at a bowling alley, ready to change into some socks, but first I must get the socks from my friend's, AnoMALIE05, boyfriend. Her boyfriend is staring into an endless abyss, I guess, not saying a word)
Me: What are you doing?
AnoMALIE05's Boyfriend: Hold on... I'm trying to take it all in.
Me: What?
A05'sBF: That there can be more than one AnoMALIE in this world and that I'm hanging out with three of them at the same time.
Me: Oh... that.
A05'sBF: I had never heard that name before, until I met my girlfriend. And now you're telling me I'm in the presence of 3? Wow. My head's spinning.
(I sat still, patiently waiting for the pair of socks he was so kindly going to donate to me... for a good three minutes)

That now ranks in my top 5 of "weirdest responses to my name."

Last night I hung out with not one, but two other AnoMALIEs, and our group of friends took full advantage.

We were refered to as "AnoMALIE05," "AnoMALIE04," and "AnoMALIE03" the entire night.
Oddly enough, our high school graduation years go in order like that.

The guys would take turns yelling "AnoMALIE!!" only to have all three of us turn around in unison, completely confused.
How infantile.
Haha.
I loved it.
Plus, our nicknames weren't as bad as one boy of the group.
When he showed up to the bowling alley, all the guys pointed and said:
"Hey look!! It's Merman!!"
And all of us chicks turned around and wondered out loud,
"WTF is a merman?"
About an hour or two later it hit me.
Oh!! Merman!
He really did look like Mermaid Man, only in a twenty-year-old version.

I blame all these distractions for my all-time low score I've ever bowled in AnoMALIE history.
What was my all-time low score that I've never bowled before, not even when I was 10?
41.
I bowled a 41!

Now, I can't take all the credit, since A05'sBF was partly responsible.
I let him bowl three different frames for me.
The first time he got me a one.
The second time he got me a 5.
The last time he got me a 3.
It didn't help that my first frame I bowled a 0.
And I kept getting one or threes... a couple of fives, and my highest was an 8 at one time.
It was a disgrace.
i let A05'sBF bowl for me because 1) He loves to bowl, and 2) each time he bowled for other people he'd get them a strike.

I'm keeping your socks, motherfucker!!

I screamed at him the third time he bowled me a zero on the first attempt.
I did it in front of a handicapped bowling league (they were all in wheelchairs, some accompanied by their young families) that was having some sort of tournament... and it did make me feel a little bad, but my level of pissed-off-ness far outweighed my level of consideration.

But... aside from all that... I did have fun.
And the day ended with us going out to the boondocks (not the same ones I live in, but in the complete opposite side of the valley) to drop off one of the AnoMALIEs, and seeing a pair of really cute, escaped bunnies running towards us on AnoMALIE05's street.
I would have grabbed one of them (one was albino, the other was half and half black and white--the black being his entire upper side of the body, and the white being his hind quarters) but AnoMALIE05 and her sister convinced me they were evil bunnies who loved biting the shit out of people.

Yes, I'm one of the most gullible humans in the universe.

I have one, too!

I had time to eat dinner with my folks today. Since we have one of those stupid homes where the living room and kitchen have no wall between them, we can watch television while we eat.
My folks just love their Univision... so I'll be eating some... hmm... what do I eat? Soup? Ok, I'll be eating soup, and next thing you know, Jorge Ramos will interrupt my comfortable situation with his evening news by showing me a couple of Mara Salvatrucha cholos dismembered in the streets of San Salvador.

Well, today Mr. Ramos didn't have time to ruin my dinner (although I do enjoy seeing him... he's a hottie even with his 49 years of age) because I ate later than usual. All they were talking about were celebrities by the time I sat down to eat.
That's when Jennifer Peña came on the television, and I then had this wonderful exchange with Dad:

Dad: Mira, mija, esa es la muchacha que me recuerda tanto a ti (Look, sweetie, that's the girl that reminds me so much of you).
Me: Jennifer Peña?

Dad: Esa mera! (that one, exactly)
Me: Sera en lo getona (Must be in the big mouth).
Dad: No... she looks a lot like you.
(I stare some more at the television as Jennifer's music video plays)
Me: Dad.. if it's because of the booty shorts, I swear I'll never wear them around the house again.
(Dad laughs)
Me: And don't you go around telling truckers you have a daughter that looks like Jennifer Peña... don't give them high expectations like that!*

I see no resemblance with the chick... maybe just, how I told Dad, in the enormous mouth... but I definitely have thicker eyebrows... and my eyes aren't that small... and I'm like six inches taller... and I wish I had her jaw-line (and I wouldn't mind having that nose, either)! No need to mention the desire to have a crazy ass six-pack like she does.
This also creeps me out coming from my dad. The girl's a total sex-pot... shaking her can in her booty shorts/underwear/wet apparel. Daddy... what the hell? Why can't you say I look like some classic lady (I don't mean to put down good ol' Jennifer Peña. Shit, if I had that body, you better believe I would have been exhibiting it by now)? A lady that goes around with more than half her body fully clothed, maybe.
It's like if I told my dad that in his younger years, he reminded me of Leonardo DiCaprio in "The Beach."

...Well... at least he didn't say someone like... ok, let's not get on that subject.

*Once, when this Indian trucker (because my folks work with truckers) told my mom that my little sister looked like Shakira. Mom's reply was: "I don't just have one, but TWO daughters prettier than Shakira." To say that her comment pissed me off would be an understatement. It's one thing to hold your kids in high esteem and think they're beautiful... but when you exaggerate that badly, it's just a vile LIE! Punishable by law, if it were up to me.