But it's me!

You know what really fucking works me up? People who don't fucking "get it," people who don't even bother to empathize one single fucking bit with my... way.
I hate people getting pissed at me because I have difficulty being social.
I hate how some people think it's SO FUCKING easy to just go out and socialize.
I ESPECIALLY hate it when this person is someone who has seen me ACTIVELY attempt being social, only to be fucking humiliated or publicly insulted in some way. They see this fucking shit go down and STILL not empathize.

"Maybe it's all in your head... ?" some people have told me.
All in my head... really? I really just imagine people talking shit about my clothes or my voice or my smile or... my personality? REALLY? I just fucking imagine a guy screaming "Dyke!" into my face at a party because I push away his physical advances? For reals? Like... he might have been screaming "BIKE!" at me instead and my mind just misconstrued it all? For reals? This is all conjured by my fucking imagination because I fucking like it or some shit?
I swear I fucking try, and I try HARD to socialize and not be fucking awkward... but goddamn it! It's motherfucking hard as fuck! And PARDON ME for refusing to subject myself to the motherfucking torture that it is to try and be... "social" with fucking strangers every once in a while. Goddamn. My fucking bad. How motherfucking selfish of me. FUCK!

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. But it's me!" ... Yeah, it's you. And I don't know how fucking drunk you've been the other times we've chilled... but I always come home from the events and cry my fucking eyes out because someone did or said something to me that seriously hurt my feelings... or made do something stupid, or made me feel fucking stupid... or worse yet, made me feel fucking invisible... or gross. I mean, if I wanted to be fucking invisible, I just would have stayed home and painted the night away, out of everyone's view... at least then I'd be comfortable/relaxed/not going deaf with the fucking shitty music played at hipster bars.
I don't fucking like the vibe. I don't fucking like drinking. I think people are fucking rude and I'm too aggro to put up with their fucking shit for more than ten minutes.
It DRAINS ME. It makes me UNCOMFORTABLE. People DON'T LIKE ME... and when they DO, they get too pushy on me, which only results on me stiff-arming the shit out of them so they can cut their shit out, and THEN they proceed to hate me.

Don't ACT like you've "tried" fixing me... because hanging out with me for fiteen minutes at a six-hour-long party doesn't fucking count-- it doesn't even scratch the surface, those fucking fifteen minutes. What can I tell you in fifteen minutes? What can you conclude in fifteen minutes? That I'm shy? That I'm uncomfortable? That I'm sad and distant? You'll maybe notice the latter, but will be too uncomfortable discussing, so you will just ignore it... but ohhh man! You fucking tried! Bravo. Fucking bravo.

Go ahead, make me feel guilty. Go ahead and chastise me. Go ahead and make me feel like a horrible fucking person because I refuse to participate in an activity that leaves me feeling lonelier and stupider and uglier once I'm done. Go on, now. Go on and vent your fucking frustration with me and ACT like you know anything about me. Act like you know where the fuck I'm coming from.

People who try to "fix" me with some sort of "man up!" speech deserve a punch in the mouth. A motherfucking punch to the teeth with a brick.

Goddamn. People make me feel like shit.

Bull fight

Listening to both sides of a story is a fucking headache.
I understand when someone chooses to be a judge or whatever the fuck... but dragging me into a heated argument? No, bro, I'm too busy over here trying to recover from the worst case of depression I've experienced in over ten years to be concerned with your fucking petty argument.

Back in August of '08 I documented the worst argument in my history. The bomb that exploded a huge part of my childhood took place that year. This was the fucking argument that cause the irreparable damage to my brother's relationship with our childhood best friend he was willing to one day make his wife.
This argument made me even less trusting of others, and much less inclined to befriend females... it bumped me to probably 85% anti-female.

The two girls, who are cousins (with one another, no relation to me), responsible for causing the drama and spreading the hateful MISinformation are at one another's throat now.
The moment I found out things were getting rocky between the two, I made it clear I lamented their falling out, but refused to take a part. Shit, I did everything in my power to stay AWAY from both girls, even avoiding their texts and calls.
But of course, they both have found a way to get a hold of me... and listening to their stories makes me both scoff and... feel shitty.
The way one girl words her shit to me varies greatly with the way the other one does. Of course, in both sides, the girl talking to me is the innocent dove who is being mistreated.
Do I think one party is guiltier than the other? Nope. They both have done things that are shitty and not very well played. They have both said some nasty shit about the other (though one did cross a line I never would have). They both have made vary valid claims against the other. They both are arguing about THE STUPIDEST SHIT.

"I KNEW she did this sort of shit... I just never thought she'd do this... to ME."
"They always told me to watch myself with her!"
"They always told me not to trust her!"
"She has always been so fake!"
They've both uttered similar sentences, and each time I sit quietly on the other side of the phone in complete silence, shaking my head in amazement.
These two girls banded together one summer and used similar tactics to destroy a lifelong friendship of mine which to this day we (me sister and me) struggle to maintain cordial. These girls knew my lifelong friends for a month, and found it acceptable to inject their venom to wreck everything.
And now these same girls are using their tactics against one another.
Fucking astonishing.
It's like watching two bulls go at one another... and you're trying your best to find some sort of cover and not get trampled, shooing them away with a ten foot pole when one starts creeping closer to you. It's not that you went LOOKING for the bull fight... it just somehow found a way to your front door.
Nah, Holmes, you stay the fuck over there! FUCK! Is this contagious?!
And yes, that behavior is contagious... especially when it has been used against you.

So, I'm sitting here struggling to find purpose in living... and simultaneously trying to dodge this giant snowball headed in my direction.
Good shit.

Villanous

Aaaaaaaand I'm still the villain.

The girls all rounded up this morning and headed out to the metro for the Acropolis.
I told them I've already seen the Acropolis, and that me going was only going to make the situation uncomfortable, because I'm still fucking pissed at my sister... and I will not hide my feelings of absolute discontent with her, even in public-- it's what you get when you piss me the fuck off... it's why I beg people not to cross that line, because I WILL be the fucking cunt you want me to be, and I WILL do it publicly.
So they left without me.

They then posted about their visit to the Acropolis on all forms of social media.
My sister even posted a selfie, which I found to be VERY telling of our dynamic as a family. It was her and my brother... and Clemson (this was a photo from Sunday, while at Meteora). I was nowhere to be found in the photo, despite being only a few feet away.

She calls every fucking bitch out there her "sister" as though I were non-existent. The only one I refer to as a sister, who isn't actually my blood relative, is Kelley... and that's because she's been there for me FAR MORE often than the VAST majority of my family members.
I say this all the time, and I've told it to Sister's face: the only time I was ever a fighting barbarian was when I had to defend one of my family members, usually meaning HER because she was such a cry baby.
How many times have any one of them stood up for me? None. Never. I have to sit there and not only get hurt, but watch as my family looks away-- completely apathetic... THEN I have to act like NONE of it hurt... like it was a fucking cake walk. AND THEN I have to deal with the lot of them thinking I'm a weirdo because I don't play well with others, because I prefer to be alone rather than socialize (didn't know it was so goddamn weird to avoid the shit that hurts you).
So OF COURSE this hurts me. It hurts bad... to see that despite having her back every single time, and remaining there even after seeing she NEVER reciprocates (but instead PARTICIPATES in my shunning), she STILL thinks I'm a shitty sister... so shitty she must go out and find others, apparently (I get all sentimental when I think back to our childhood and remember how I've always hated dolls, but would always find myself getting stuck playing with them for my sister's sake. I fucking hated using my imagination for that sort of shit... but I did it for her. Clearly this meant nothing to her).

And people always side with her.
She has gotten me in trouble numerous times, because she randomly grows a set of balls and shittalks someone, and then when the person finds out, someway, somehow, I get the blame for it, and the people wind up resenting ME.
"Who cares? Shit, let them know it's me who said that. Shit, I don't fucking care!" Sister will say... as the person in question suddenly hates me, but gains this crazy love and support for Sister.

Today, it's no different.
She pissed me off, I blew up, I made her cry and throw her typical melodramatic crying tantrum, and the people, of course, resented me for being such a monster... proceeding to comfort her and shun me.

But hey, 'tis life. It's why I prefer to be alone. It's why I'm happiest when on my own.

Tough

When life is going beautifully for me... of course it must get fucked up by the ONE group of people who can destroy me:
Family.
Nice.

My favorite part of the downfall? That it was done publicly, on good ol' Facebook.
Perfect venue to have others LAUGH at me... and of course, add their two cents.

I love public ridicule. I love how it follows me.

It was made painfully obvious to the world that my brother knows NOTHING about me... and it was made obvious to ME that my sister does not CARE about all the bullshit I put up with in the sake of keeping her safe... keeping her from hurting anywhere near as bad as I did.
She sided with my brother, and laughed along with the rest of her friends-- nothing new there... so I don't know why I'm crying so hard... maybe I expected her to change?

It sucks to know that the one human I spent so much of my life protecting and literally holding her hand through life so she wouldn't get hurt doesn't appreciate it, much less acknowledge it in front of her friends... maybe just me... but never in public.
I would let others beat the shit out of me and humiliate me in public for years, without me saying a single word... and just going home as quietly as possible... putting on a brave face... as though life was just... normal and boring. A quiet, boring little world, the one I presented...
But the moment my sister did anything similar to a WHIMPER, I'd be up and running, looking for blood.

Why wouldn't I fight back? I don't know... maybe I didn't think I deserved to be defended? I don't know. I'd just... take a deep breath and pray for it to end swiftly... so I could run and hide to a place where I could finally cry without anyone hearing or seeing me.

But I did know no one else deserved that treatment... or even the knowledge of such feelings... so I protected.

Laugh at me because I'd get mistreated... yeah. Cool. But answer me this: how many times were YOU mistreated, or even insulted while I stood next to you? Exactly.
I WAS tough. SO tough...
Know how many times ANYONE saw me cry at school? ONCE. In third grade. Because the substitute teacher refused to give me my homework (I told that fucked up story already). NO ONE ever saw me cry BEFORE, DURING, or AFTER getting beat up or bullied or whatever fucked up bullshit others subjected me to. I took it ALL quietly... sight to the floor... breath held in. But NO tears.
And no one ever intervening to stop the abuse.
That's pretty fucking TOUGH.

She laughed when he made fun of me... and refused to acknowledge that it was thanks to me that she was never mistreated by her peers... or my grandfather.
Then again, she'd laugh when the guys would moo at me as I'd walk by the park in Mexico... and she wouldn't tell others to shut up when she'd catch them talking shit about me... she'd just shrug.
She would "adopt" other girls and call them "sisters"... girls she'd choose to hang out with, making sure to leave the house before I had any chance to tag along.
But oh shit! What's this? That catty girl tried bullying you in school? Did you remind her I'm your sister and can easily destroy her if I catch her? Sick me like a pitbull... something you've done since you were a toddler. That's all I really am-- a scary pet.

I thought with time my sister would change.
I didn't think she thought so little of my actions.

I'm fucking destroyed.

No, Silly.

No worries, you aren't missing much by not seeing (his current city), Berlin is by far the more interesting place.

Oh, silly boy, if you only knew...
Not missing much? Only what has mattered most to me for the last nine years.
I don't care where it is-- next door, across the ocean, a landfill, or the moon... wherever you are is what matters-- what I find interesting... the most interesting of interesting places. Anywhere else I may be, or anything else I may see, is secondary-- inconsequential.
In not seeing you, I'm missing much... I'm missing it all.

So... clearly I was upset two weeks ago... fucking devastated, heartbroken, pissed, sad, frustrated... all of that messed up shit.
So many things were running through my mind, that I finally couldn't keep my composure and I lost it in front of my sister and JC.
Now that I have time to look back and examine it all with a clear mind (because yes, my mind cleared and I cheered the fuck up the moment I stepped foot in Paris. I had to think of other shit, like "Goddamn it! NO ENGLISH, AnoMALIE! You are to speak ONLY FRENCH! Sound natural, sound natural, sound natural. 'Allo, la bas, si vous plait. Merci! Oui, c'est ma deuxième fois de visite a la cite'" and not about missing out on seeing and hanging out in a foreign country with the boy I've always swooned for-- for nearly a decade of my life), things are making sense.

Tuesday morning, as I made breakfast and fought any negative thoughts that tried creeping back into my head to make me cry about my incompetence, JC walked into the kitchen and checked up on my wellbeing.

JC: Oh, well, it's good to see you're in spirits to finally eat.
Me: Eh. Long day ahead. Hard to believe I'll be in Paris in a few hours.
JC: Oh look, you're talking again.
Me: Eh.
JC: You fucking irritated me last night. Luckily you're making us breakfast, so I forgive you.
Me: Forgive ME? I didn't know I needed it, but thanks...
JC: YOU'RE IN GERMANY! No room to be all fucking (copies me looking miserable, sulking) mopey and stupid. Shit fucking pissed me off.
Me: JC, I missed out on hanging out with the one guy I've ever liked... He lives way the fuck out here... and I KNOW he will never be for me... but ANY opportunity to even SEE him is important to me. Missing such a thing... because I'm such a fucking retard... broke my heart.
JC: It's not so serious.
Me: JC... he's the one I toasted to. YOU moved out here for the girl YOU toasted to that night. Shut the fuck up.

This is where I think JC and I are too alike.
He moved out to Berlin because he fell hard for a girl he met one night, and spent only ONE DAY getting to know.
It took him a few years to actually make his way out to Berlin, and in those years, he happened to meet Em. They became serious, because Em is the more tangible option... but BerlinGirl is still his ONE.
She's the one he will always admire and for whom his heart will wildly flutter... but she's also the one he knows will never be able to... be.
He gets to see her, hear her, smell her, touch her at the moment, but he too is victim of that invisible wall. Unspoken words... no, can't happen. Wont happen.
I saw the way he looked at her at the Champs League Finale party. He doesn't look at Em that way. The way he spoke to her... he doesn't speak like that to Em.
He sat right next to BerlinGirl, and leaned over even closer... this... sheepish look on his face... but that was it. It's like admiring a highly-guarded treasure: you can look, but the moment you touch you drop dead.

Maybe his irritation with me rose from seeing how I-- in a very similar situation to his-- choose to fade with my sadness, rather than move on and look for someone else.

It's not that I don't want to... it's just that I can't.
I'm destined to watch everyone find their "rib" as I quietly sit on my bench... acting unaffected... but wishing to really just be invisible.

Averting Disaster

I spent Mother's Day weekend diffusing a bomb.

Mexican Mother's Day was Friday, and that day went rather smoothly.
Then yesterday happened.

First off, my day went to shit since the dress alterations went to round two, and took much longer than expected. I cannot complain of this, however, since I was only charged 15 bucks for the fixing of the garbage I was originally handed.
(I did cry a little in my tailor's bathroom... since I went in there about ten times to try on the dress each time he altered it. Thanks to this blog, I've come to realize I do a lot of crying in bathrooms... that should be my fucking M.O.)
In hopes of forgetting the frustrating business that is dress alterations, we decided to go visit my mother's sister.
This was the bomb.
Her eldest son and she were arguing... fiercely-- tears and snot all over the place.
It was the most awkward entrance I've ever made.
Rather than sit in the kitchen and witness any more barbaric, irrational behavior (I can hardly stand my own, much less other people's), I walked outside and played with the poor dog who was equally confused as I.
I allowed Mom to stay inside and add her voice to the chaotic scene.

After perhaps half an hour, the son left, and we remained with my aunt.
This was where the diffusing began.
While things appeared to have calmed, my aunt remained... irrational. She had made her son believe she was cool, but in reality, she was planning to remain... harboring resentment.

I worked my empathy magic... and left feeling rather proud of myself, thinking I had solved a very uncomfortable problem.

Then today happens.
Auntie wouldn't answer her phone or texts.
Mom and I had two options: remain equally petty, or talk some fucking sense into her.
And so, after some gentle, silly coaxing, she came around.

This is how Mother's Day 2013 was NOT ruined.
Yup.

You're not my dad

As is usual, I intended to update sooner. I keep going back and forth.
My laptop has also been on the fritz after downloading a file from a friend that I can swear slowed my shit down. But whatever.

My brain has been a jumbled mess these last few weeks.
There has been some crazy shit going on in the household, primarily, my dad's bizarre behavior.
My frustration and confusion finally boiled over yesterday, when I confronted him in his room, and started to cry.
Me: YOU'RE NOT MY DAD! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?! DO YOU HATE US?

My dad had been super quiet since his return from Cuba. Super shady.
Things exploded a few days ago when he accused my mother and me of being "satanists" because we're Catholic.
I don't know... it's like... I was scared... I didn't know what was wrong and especially didn't know how to FIX it. It has been the most terrified I've ever been.
My whole life I've dealt with Mom and Dad fighting over religion... but never ever had Dad dared to offend us in that fashion... it was terrifying. TERRIFYING. If you're willing to call your own blood a "satanist"... what's the next step? Abandoning us? Trying to perform some sort of... exorcism? Had my dad finally jumped off the deep end? WHAT THE FUCK did they do to him in Cuba? WHAT THE FUCK?!

I also bumped into some alarming e-mails by accident. Since I do all of my dad's permit work (considering he works with diesel and has the gas station... and a couple of concrete companies, and now the houses my folks own, I have to keep up to date with all sort of permits, since it's basically internet shit and my parents are pretty much living in a Stone Age mentality), I have to check out his e-mail to see the replies I get from the different state departments. This time, I was keeping up with a Hazmat permit, which requires about three different replies, so I decided to check his e-mail.
I saw e-mails from ONE lady... with the subject line being... well, shady... so I couldn't help myself and I read them.
Since the e-mails originate from Cuba, she can send them, but Dad can't reply.... and... well... I felt like a mule kicked me when I read her overly-friendly e-mails.
I didn't tell my mom, I just kept it to myself.

Finally, yesterday, when I tried convincing him to come to the living room to skype with our Costa Rica friends and he turned me down, I couldn't help myself and I finally broke down.
And he finally spoke up.

After nearly four hours of listening to him talk, I made progress. He couldn't talk to Mom about it, since Mom is stubborn and won't listen to religious talk which she finds offensive to the Catholic church. I, on the other hand, have learned to be extremely tolerant of ANYONE'S views on religion (positive and negative), whether they clash with mine or not. I'll listen. I don't have to agree, but I definitely try to understand.
So... I made sure to make Dad feel-- to KNOW-- his opinions, feelings, and thoughts are important--VALID-- to me, regardless of how much I may disagree with them.

And I think we're good. I think he released whatever was weighing him down.

Heavy shit, guys.

Only do it once

The thing about offending me is this:
You only do it once.

My brother has been in town since Friday night.
He had been very nice to me up until an hour ago.
He would crack jokes, offer me food, text me funny random shit, and he even paid for my movie ticket earlier today.
Then we argued again as we exited the movie theater.

The argument once again revolved around the subject of not wanting to share MY shit.
This sent Brother into a tailspin. And he began with his angry rant.
Brother: You're so... I'm just going to stop myself right here before I say something that...
Me: Might hurt my feelings? Oh, don't worry about that, you already crossed that threshold a few weeks ago. There's nothing you can really say that will hurt my feelings... maybe only if you wish death upon me... and even then, I kinda wouldn't care, 'cause death has been sounding pretty fucking appealing to me for over a year now.

Like I said, people only disillusion me once. After I learn of how badly they can hurt me, anything they do ceases to surprise me.
You only make me cry unconsolably once. After that, that one piece of my heart I dedicated for you dies. It becomes numb, useless... like when you suffer a heart attack, that part of your heart dies... it no longer works. So... shoot away, homie, I no longer care, I no longer feel, I'm no longer shocked.
Just keep opening your mouth and proving my judgement correct: YOU never cared.
As is customary, I admired the wrong person. The idea of never placing anyone on an altar is further reinforced.

My brother continued his ranting as we walked in the house, and I think he only became more outraged when he saw how calm and nonchalant I was about everything. I didn't scream, I didn't slam doors, I didn't sniffle, my eyes didn't water.
I held the door open that he originally swung nearly-shut on my face, walked in while playing a game on my cell phone, and poured myself a cup of cereal with some spinach on the side (it's good. Don't judge me).
He explained the situation-- quite agitatedly-- to my mom, and told her he couldn't eat with my "stupid face" in front of him.
I shrugged, continued eating my cereal, and once done, came straight to my room and decided to write.

I'm not crying. I'm not surprised... I'm just...

Oh, Universe, you're funny.

Happy Christmas Eve, people.
I'm going to eat tamales and be the quiet, weird one I always am at tonight's posada. 

Strong word... truly.

You know how I'm all quiet and stuff?
How I LOATHE words that are uttered in rage.
What I hate most is that in the middle of heated arguments, once someone says something truly hurtful... I can't counter attack. I sit... angrily wanting to rip out their eyes... but I sit still... so I cry out of frustration. And I keep the words. I may go on and act like I'm ok after a few minutes... but the words stay burned into my memory.

"You have to be one of the FEW people I TRULY HATE!"

...
Many more hurtful things were said to me, while all I really said was "ANYTHING YOU FUCKING TOUCH, YOU BREAK! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!"
The other words said to me hurt and made me cry... but that phrase... that phrase still has me crying.

My brother said that to me this afternoon. Neither one of us was drunk... we were both stone cold sober.

Excuse me... my soul hurts.

...
Happy Thanksgiving.

We used to be cool, Summer!

Yeah... August is definitely not my month. Actually... this entire summer has not been my SEASON.
What... I had like... a combined total of perhaps 14 hours of happiness? Smiles I paid for dearly within HOURS, when I walked to my backyard to find my dead dog.

Spent so many years daydreaming about some day hanging out with this one guy... and somehow, as if by some sort of magic trick, I spend a weekend in his presence... three days where this cheesy smile didn't leave my face. Fast-forward eight hours after throwing up the deuces to the guy... and I find Tyson.
It's really, REALLY hard to convince me something out there just DOES NOT want me to be happy.
I hadn't been that type of happy... in ages, and then the Universe delivers this terrible blow... just violently rips out my heart. It gave me a couple of hours in the company of a dude I've crushed on for eight years (Oh, the fucking awesomeness this has added to my short story... nice comic relief, at my expense of course, which is always the kind I go for), and then it takes away the ONLY creature that stuck by me--thick and thin, 24/7-- for 11 years of my life.
Seriously... what kind of fucking joke is that?
The rug was really pulled out from right under me since then... and I've been slipping so fucking hard ever since.

Things have only gotten worse.
Currently, I'm in one of the worst fights I've had with my sister. Of course I think I'm right... I KNOW I'm right. So my arm isn't twisting on this one.
She has resorted to giving me the silent treatment... which... we all know how that works out with me.
Homie, YOU'RE the one living alone 1800 miles away, not I. Tell me how well that works out for ya, buddy.

And last, I am no longer enjoying alone time. My folks are once again home... arguing... pissing me off... all that good shit.
Mom HAS made me laugh a few times... so... that's cool.
Yeah.

Not-So-Perfect Girl

My bad, I got a little carried away with my cleaning.

Yeah, I'm doing that cheating thing where I say I posted this on a certain day, but I actually completed it after midnight, so technically it's the next day.

Anyway, looks like tomorrow will be a packed day. I get to visit the airport twice to pick up my people.

The good thing in all this is that Mom's throwing a carne asada for the family... so it'll be a nice get together... with my favorite type of protein (beef tenderloin... oh baby!) for me to enjoy.

The weeding weekend festivities officially began today, and how did I ring it in?

By fighting. Duh.

No physical injuries were handed out, just verbal arguments between me and my super outspoken cousin-- the brother of the groom, the Best Man.

Of fucking course.

Now, we're really cool, seriously. He's outspoken and blunt, and often times his big mouth infuriates me and causes me to argue to the point of nearly breaking out in tears... but in the end, apologies are handed and accepted.

I actually enjoy his company, because he too is one of those guys that keeps me grounded. He does not coddle me... at all... for shit. He is BRUTALLY honest.

Last night, we began the argument because he went on some drunken spiel over how girls don't know shit about sports, and if they know ANYTHING it's only because of the guys on their Twitter/FB feed who constantly rant about sports. I told him I took offense to that, because I've known my shit since I was a toddler... and all thanks to my mother, too. 

The argument escalated once he touched my hot button:

So, if you know so much about sports, cook amazing food (so I'm guilty of Instagraming my food once or twice), like such a broad spectrum of music... basically the perfect girl, why is it YOU'RE SINGLE?

Oh HELL NO! NO! No you didn't! Watch your mouth, perro. FUCK YOU!

So I said what first popped into my head... since I was so startled and pissed.

Because guys like crazy slutty bitches with big fake tits and even bigger fucking baggage!

The argument carried over to today.

So exhausting to argue with this guy... especially once I get all emotionally invested in the argument and make my traumas evident like that. It sucks dick, you guys.

So... in an attempt to clear my mind, and silence my subconscious which was demanding answers to my cousin's question, Yeah, WHY are you, single AnoMALIE? Why didn't you cop to your shortcomings, huh? Because he's RIGHT, huh? Fuck you, Brain! I went ahead and cleaned my wing of the house... I'm talking bloody fingertips once again.

I did all that shit as I rocked a red pucker. That's right, I put some lipstick on and proceeded to scrub tubs, toilets, and floors (in my defense, this only happened because I went shopping for some last-minute makeup for the wedding festivities... and I purchased this awesome red liquid lipstick that is INCREDIBLE. I look like a legit adult when I wear it).

Mmm... feels good to be a girl... with issues... who ISN'T perfect. Yeah.

On your own

Some people are just meant to be alone (yup, sorry, emo post).

It's crazy, because even when I try to stick with someone, to be close to them, I get pushed away.
I say this because of my sister.
I honestly don't know how...  to express how I feel about that kid.
She uses me when she's alone. Because she feels stupid when she has to face anything by herself.
She isn't meant to be alone.

If I ever... for whatever reason... you know, maybe, just maybe, I feel a little... tired of being so alone... I'll ask her if she wants to do anything with me... I have to brace myself for her cold rejection.
It's like... it really irritates her. She'll scoff... then ask me why I can't do anything on my own.
Homie, I've been doing it on my own since... Rafa entered kindergarten.
She'll hesitate if we're invited to the same event... which, if it's a pretty cool event, I'll act uninterested and encourage her to go on her own.
The same would happen back when we were little. She was the popular cute kid, and she'd go off and do her own thing with the girls at the party... usually running away from me before I had a chance to catch up, so I'd have to rely on the kindness of the boys... who'd let me play whatever the fuck they were playing... or they'd at least let me watch (hence where I learned to be an observer. Never really participating in anything. I just watch everything pass me by).

This behavior has reemerged as of recently... I really don't understand why.
She won't want to do anything with me, but will go off with some friend a couple of days later and do whatever it is I was interested in.
It's an ugly feeling.

This came up because today, since MGH is in town, he invited us to hang out with his friends. I wanted to go... which is a little out of character, but it's just me, trying to get out of my depressed funk. Anyway, I wanted to go, but didn't want to be the only chick there--especially when dealing with MGH (I already spent this afternoon hanging out with him... just us two... and that was interesting to say the least)-- so I asked her to please join me. She brushed it off. So... I'm... pretty much home alone, typing this shit up.

Onto what upset me most today: D has planned to spend her birthday in DC with our bro.
Mom and Dad want to send me out there. They think it'd be cute to have all three of us together.
I was excited, because I had never seen Dad so insistent in me going somewhere.
I brought it up to her... and she became angry.
WHY CAN'T I DO ANYTHING BY MYSELF?! It's a four days weekend with my brother!
...
And that quickly shut me up. I didn't even argue.
When someone gets that perturbed over me being in their company, I'm not going to force myself.
It only hurts because... I mean... if my siblings can't stand me... how the fuck can I expect strangers to want to put up with me?
I'm sorry I offend you so much? I'm sorry to burden you?
What else can I say?

And that's why I've learned to embrace solitude... because it's... pretty much expected of me.
(And yes, it happened again. The cute kid chose her. Hm. I don't understand why I get surprised or upset when it happens. I SHOULD KNOW THIS BY NOW)

I'm not always going to be here, you know...

Just keep busy

One can always depend on a best friend to help put shit in perspective.
Last night, Kelley's response to what's going on with this mourning issue:

Ignore it. Honestly, you gave them support.. and it's apparent they don't care. They probably have much greater issues than the passing of a loved one.. like you said.. those kids no longer have a father.. why wouldn't they concentrate on that.

When my mom died I didn't expect anyone to stop what they were doing, just because. The one truth in life is.. everything dies sometime. Hell.. my dad didn't want my brother or me to do that because.. life goes on for the living. Tragedies and sad times happen.
As a relative or friend you give your condolences.. and it's up to the primary mourner to move forward.

Whatever you do, do not feel bad.
if you ever need to talk anytime or hangout (late at night.. or in the morning.. silly work) I am ALWAYS here. You do not need this. DO NOT feel bad.

That, my friends, is why she's my bestie.
Back when her mom passed away, we were high school seniors.
I had turned 18 two days before, Kelley was 17.

When I called Kelley HOURS after her mom had passed away, I was being a cunt, totally concerned with calculus homework (I was unaware of what had happened, since I had just spent my weekend at Disneyland).
Well, I wasn't TOO much of a cunt, I was just exasperated with the homework and I turn into a hardheaded mean bitch when I'm exasperated.
However, I noticed her voice was different, and I asked what was wrong.
Her response is something I'll never forget:
My mom died...
I asked what I could do. What I should do.
Just keep me busy. I need to keep busy.
And so, there we were... on the phone... crying (I was sobbing more than she was, because I'm a weakass)... but beasting our calculus homework (I still remember it was a project where you had to calculate interest rates on your home's mortgage, among other things. My house has no mortgage rate... so this was being the worst pain in my fucking ass. It still makes me angry to think about it).
She was trying to keep ME from crying.

I can't imagine living my life without my mom. While my mom was more militant than maternal in the way she raised me, thinking of ever not having her here drives me crazy.

A girl needs her mom, I don't care what anyone says in regards to that.

I doubt anything can be as painful as the loss of your mother... (not considering the loss of a child, but for a 17 year old high school girl? There can't be a pain worse than having your mom pass away) and here my best friend was going through it... AND she was trying to keep everyone else from feeling bad about it.
Her mom. Ok. Not her grandmother. Not her sister-in-law. Not her cousin. Her mother.
She continued living and encouraged others to do so.

Goes to show why I love the people I CHOOSE to interact with, as opposed to those whose circle I was BORN INTO.

However, how Kelley advised, I'm not going to feel bad (about pissing these people off OR about them talking shit about me).
I'm not even going to hold a grudge against these people. I understand a loss makes people's judgement a little... clouded. Grief fucks with people in different ways... I suppose this time around, I just have to deal with being vilified.


Thanks for the words, Kelley. You rock :) 

Rulers

It's no secret that I've been miserable for a very prolonged time.

I try, very, VERY hard to find a reason to smile every single day... to appear normal every single day.

There will be days where I'll find myself laughing until tears stream down my face... and I'll have days when getting out of bed will be a struggle.

While I can be miserable and contemplating death for days on end, I will be working my hardest to keep my friends and family from feeling the same way.

I will always try to make them smile.

Nothing makes me happier than seeing my loved ones smile.

***

This problem has been killing me since Saturday.

Remember the friend/cousin whose husband died Saturday morning? Well, the guy was also my distant cousin.

I visited his widow after church that same day. I stayed at her house for two hours.

I wanted to let her know, as well as the rest of her family, that I was with them in such a difficult time.

I left because I had promised MGH I was going to be home... and because the sorrow in that house was killing me.

He left behind three kids. A 13 year old, a four year old, and a two year old.

The 13 year old was trying his best to put on a brave face... even cracking a few jokes... but all you had to do was stare at his swollen red eyes to tell that he had been crying for hours.

The four year old was missing. She had been taken to her cousin's house, to keep her from witnessing the depressing scene that would be her home.

The two year old... that one... he was breaking my heart. He would walk around the living room, clearly confused and somewhat horrified over all the strangers in the house. Once he'd forget about the strangers, he'd continue with his search. He was looking for his dad... since he was the one responsible for giving him his nightly bath, giving him his nite-nite bottle, and putting him to bed. Each time I'd see the little boy rub at his eyes... a new crack would form in my heart.

I left the house and continued with my day by doing the whole Strip thing with MGH and J.

OF COURSE this later came to bite me in the ass:
Yesterday I had an altercation with the mourning family... why? Because I went out Saturday night with the boys... you know, right after having dropped by the mourner's house.

Look, there's NO DOUBT my heart is broken for you guys. The fact that a 40 year old man died in his sleep... was discovered by his horrified wife... and left behind three young children, is devastating.
HOWEVER, people die. EVERY DAY. We've all had to deal with it.
To think I should hold mourning... by not going out... or dressing in solid black all day... or not listen to music... is fucking selfish and delusional.
Did I ever expect that out of you, when each and every one of my grandparents died on me?
No.
Never.
Did I criticize you because you continued with your fucking life after hearing some family member of mine passed away?
No. Never.
You're not the first person to lose a loved one, and you're definitely not going to be the last.
The ruler with which you measure others will be the same one with which YOU will be measured. Remember THAT.

I don't understand why people are so fucking hell-bent in having others be miserable.
Honest to God, I feel terrible for the family. I can't get the tragedy out of my head.
I DID show empathy by visiting the family the day of the tragedy... that's FAR MORE than they ever did for me. I was one hundred percent sincere in my sentiment of sorrow for the family... I don't understand how that shit can be misconstrued into me being a morbid hypocrite.

Needless to say, I'm very frazzled... downright pissed off, because of the mourners' outrage and shit-talk.
You'd think they'd be more concerned with how these poor kids are going to deal with the death of their father, instead of being obsessed with what the fuck I do on my weekends (AS IF I DO anything in the first place. I go out once in a blue moon).

I just can't win... ever.

Phony Ponies

I love watching guys fight... argue, to be more correct.
Dudes physically fighting freaks me out... 'cause it makes me sad for the loser.
But when they argue... HA!

In my social circle, when guys argue, they go for the jugular once someone mentions the other one is a "fake ass bitch."
I'll stand there, GREATLY amused, watching these two guys get worked up because they're trying to prove their "real-ness."

Last night, a huge fight erupted amongst the boys... you know, the ones from "Europe."
It appears there's trouble in make-believe-European-paradise.
Sadly, I was an innocent bystander... and to be quite honest, I still don't know what was said or done to offend whoever was offended first... but I was seriously concerned that I was going to be forced to choose sides in this divorce.
The two parties involved were
1. Birthday Boy-- you know, the one who didn't want to invite me to his epic 30th birthday party even after he invited both my siblings... then he invited me when there was a couple of days left before the big day.
2. Po-- you know, the guy who said he was German and then went off and gave himself a Teletubby name. The dude who shook my tit instead of my hand the first time he met me. The dude who told me the other day that I'd be perfect if I looked like my sister. Yeah, him.

Now, I like both of them, even if they have both offended me in somewhat severe ways... I mean, they've both been responsible for making me cry myself to sleep on a few occasions... which is kind of severe in my book... because I cry for NO ONE.
But...
"A" is my cousin... and we HAVE had some good times together.
"B" makes me laugh, and he's always nice to me... when he's sober... and I've always had this weird attraction for him, but I DEFINITELY don't act on it because I know how my sister feels about him... and he obviously digs my sister a lot, since he told me it'd be dope if I looked like her. Plus, nobody likes me, remember? I refuse to put myself out there for any guy ever again. I'll stare at the bulls from a distance.

Anyway, I didn't take sides... and I haven't had to face any repercussions for it... yet.
I still get to sit there guilt free, and watch both sides try and offend each other with some wack-ass slang terms that often make me laugh.

I'm taking bets until Tuesday:
1.WHEN will they finally get mad at ME
2. What will I finally say/do to get A or B pissed AT ME... and
3. WHO will be the one to get pissed at me FIRST?
I say that... 1. by this Friday, A or B will no longer be speaking to me (though A ignores me as if it were his job... and only speaks up when I say something he deems outrageous or WRONG). 2. I will... I will have told B that I find "Otis" quite an interesting track, which will ultimately piss off A... so the answer to 3 is A. A will be the one who will not be speaking to me. I'll eventually piss off B when I criticize smoking.

It's SO easy to hate me.

Shameless

ONCE AGAIN, I'm in trouble for opening my big mouth.

It was all thanks to FB, apparently the new motherfucking Myspace.
A certain cousin, who has recently become increasingly annoying with his numerous drunk tweets and FB status updates, finally fed me up (I don't like how I phrased that sentence, but I'm sleepy, so I'm not going to waste time to edit this post).
I wasn't even mean about it. I just cracked a joke. A SIMPLE joke.
This guy cracks jokes at the expense of others EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. It's the only way he knows to be funny... and when someone cracks a joke about him, he starts World War III.
He posted a photo, this one:

O...k... ?

He has this delusion of grandeur, where he swears he's... OH! He's one of the guys who thinks he's part of Kanye's crew.
The group swears they get special treatment in this city... aka they "run it." Only what THEY do is awesome and... whatever hip-hop-ish slang they use for the concept of "cool."
Get out of here with that shit. You hit us up when you want a hook-up at Marquee, and we're "nobodies"... don't come at me with that Entourage bullshit.
Anyway, I recognized where he was, and I couldn't bite my tongue.
Me: Drinking at St. Anne's gym? Have you no shame?! JK JK!

This had a couple of female friends of his cracking up.
I get a fucking text from him. He's upset over how I should "respect" him and keep from "hating" on him on HIS page.
Offend? Woah. Calm down, I stated fact. You're drinking in the gymnasium of St. Anne Catholic School. Period.
So now the dudes are mad at me.
Because I'm insolent. I'm rude. I'm inconsiderate.

Yeah... ok. Glad that's settled, compa. Now I won't feel too bad about sharing the story of how you mooned everyone at a recent family carne asada and forgot to wipe the skid mark from your ass cheeks... how you made half of us throw up our food from having to see the shit streak across your ass.
Cool.

So a catlady walks into a bar...

Yesterday, through no fault of my own, I was unable to post.
Did I have anything important to day? Nah, not really (then again, do I ever?).
I just went to the movies after a really long time of self-banishment from the cinema.

The movie was alright. I had my DD moment while watching it (one of the main characters was named "Darcy." Sure, it was Kate Hudson's character, but still, each time they'd say her name, all I could think was "ENOUGH ALREADY!"), but I was a little turned off from the film because one of the characters (Kate Hudson's to be exact) had no real redeeming qualities and it was impossible to like her... fucking impossible.

The film took place in New York, and that actually got me a little excited about going there in less than two weeks. It only took me... a couple of months.

This reminds me, yesterday I had a nasty argument with my sister in regards to our NYC plans.
I want to go to the MET, MoMA, Broadway... and all those landmarks we hear so much about. I also REALLY want to eat. Can't forget to hit THOSE landmarks.

My sister wants to go to the Guggenheim and bar/club hop every night.
Nothing against the Guggenheim, I fucking loved it in Bilbao. It brings back great memories... but still... we're in NYC and we're not going to check out the MET  or MoMA? And bar/club hop every night? What the hell are you smoking?

When sister brought this to my attention (she's the one making the plans, since we're staying with her friend while we're out there. I feel like an asshole when suggesting anything), and my response was:
D, I live in Las Vegas. Why would I want to do that?

She flipped.
What does D do when she flips? She starts spewing at the mouth and says offensive shit that manages to piss me the fuck off and pushes me over the edge.
D: WELL, I'm a NORMAL person, who wants to check out the BAR SCENE in DIFFERENT CITIES.
(she said it like that. She'd elevate her voice during the CAPS part)
Me: Yeah, because the BAR SCENE is so FUCKING DIFFERENT in EVERY CITY. Give me a bar in Las Vegas, a bar in some little town in Nebraska, and a New York bar and you'll get the SAME fucking thing.
(I tend to mimic when pissed off)
D: I KNEW you were going to react like this. You're so FUCKING BORING.
Me: D, WE'RE GOING TO BE IN NEW YORK! You want to BAR HOP in New York when we're only going to be there THREE DAYS?
D: I did it in Spain!
Me: Yeah, you were there for six months... OBVIOUSLY there's bar hopping in SIX FUCKING MONTHS. Bar hop when you're in Germany... Ireland... shit, even England... it'll be unforgivable if you don't. But here in the states, seeing a huge city for the first time? Get the fuck out of here.
D: WELL, Me and *NYCGirl* will do it and you'll be left home alone to take care of her CAT. YOU FUCKING CAT LADY!
UHOH. She went there.
Me: FUCK YOU, YOU DRUNK! WHAT THE FUCK IS THERE TO DO AT A FUCKING BAR?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT TO FIND THERE?! 'Cause I know I'LL BE MOTHERFUCKING DAMNED IF I FIND MY FUTURE BOYFRIEND AT A FUCKING BAR! Tell me, WHAT am I going to do at a bar, huh? Am I going to learn anything? Am I going to be happy? WHY is bar hopping such a MUST? FUCK. YOU.


Some days, you just don't call me a catlady.
(as for bars, there's a time and place for that. When I'm visiting a giant city for the first time and only have three days to experience it, I'm not going to be game to be drunk every single night--or the more probable scenario: me taking care of drunks. Also, NO, I WILL NOT ever, ever, fucking EVER hook up with a guy from a bar. EVER. So I have no interest in checking out the bar scene ANYWHERE... because the only time I'll be at a bar is when I'm 1. Watching a soccer match-- a time when I'll have ZERO interest in talking, or hearing ANYONE talk, 2. Really craving a Belgian fruit lambic. Period)

FB war

Since I missed a post over the weekend, here's my recovery post:

Passive-aggressiveness. I'm kind of good at it... really good.
However, I understand how obnoxious it can be, so I've consciously made the effort to just be upfront with my problems with others (or just get over it and shut the fuck up. This one works a lot better, although it's probably not the best for my mental health)... a process that has taken me 26 years.

But I have these two friends... they're... somethin' else.
I use the term "friends" loosely, since I handle them like I handle liquor: once in a while I'll have a drink or two because it's fun and it makes me more outgoing... but if I have too much, it just turns into a giant mess and I have to deal with a fucked up hangover.
With these girls (they're sisters, so naturally Sis and I gravitated toward them), I hang out with them maybe once every six months. They have very strong personalities, so much so, that when we first met at a family party (we were all elementary schoolers), we got in a physical fight over who was hogging the foosball table (we were, but only because we had FOUR people playing. They only had two. Instead of nicely asking if they could be rotated in, they insisted on ALL four of us to get out). They will speak their mind, to the point where they're rude.
Why do I hang out with them? Because I do laugh with the bluntness of these girls. They don't let others belittle them and shit like that. It's entertaining to watch. Of course, too much of this makes me depressed. I'll get that moral-hangover and think about the poor girl they've been ragging on for the last hour and how that poor girl must feel (because the girl obviously hears all of the berating from these two girls). Sure, being in the presence of such strong personalities CAN do me SOME good, since I'm so reserved and quiet... but I can't be seen with them for too long because I don't want others to think I'm of the same catty nature.

Anyway, with Facebook, these girls have grown fond of passive-aggressiveness. They continuously post status updates mocking their own friends, but without straight up calling them out. They'll also post on each others walls, "acting" like a certain friend.
Sister and I have been watching this behavior for a while... since we've identified three friends they've made fun of. Why they so it, I do not know... but it does piss me off. Why publicly make fun of someone when you live together? Yeah, Sis and I make fun of others sometimes, but we do it in person... never on-line where other people can read it and be scandalized by it.

Well, looks like their next victim is my sister.
How the saying in Spanish goes: throw rocks at me and I'll eventually catch one.
Well, we caught them.

Backstory on my sister:
She has always been the pretty girl. I've said that about a million times. When she came back from living abroad in '08, she gained a ton of weight. She finally went on a crazy diet back in... January? and turns out she lost all the weight. I'm pretty sure I talked about this before.
Anyway, turns out the diet only taught her to eat healthy. It seemed drastic at the time, and even I thought she'd only have a massive bounce-back, but now she eats like a little health nut, she hits the gym daily, and she takes health supplements and all that.
My sister once again looks good, actually, better than ever. She has never been so thin, so muscular, and so happy. She went from a size 15, to a 6 and shrinking.
I'm proud of her.

OK, so my sister occasionally checks-in on FB when she's at the gym. She does this to try and convince her friends to join her. It often works.
Sister also posts photos of her food... but only when it looks really good.
Also, when people see photos of her, they compliment her and ask her secret. She'll very nicely accept the praise, and let them know that she got to her weight by eating right and hitting the gym.

All right, now for these girl's reactions:
Older girl's status on Friday:
Things that extremely annoying... The show "I didnt know I was pregnant" the show "16 and pregnant" fat people checking in at the gym everyday, makes me 1 wonder if the gym has an In N Out inside and 2 makes me feel great about myself for not working out!
Then a later post:

with this caption:
Ohhh Cosmo, this the reason why you're my favorite magazine, next to Glamour- we think alike!!
and these comments:
OlderSister: This is about ppl on a diet who post what they eat and are talking about their diet in FB all the time!
YoungerSister: I don't keep a food diary! Or talk about working out or being on a diet haha I post delicious food!

Shit like that. Shit that made it CLEAR they were mocking my sister.
Since we're talking about my sister here, she struck back. She's the queen of snark (but when we unite power, watch your back, sucka!).
Sis went to LA today on a business trip with Dad (I snaked my way out of it), but before she left, I reminded her to check in at King Taco.
She did just that,  once she reached LA, using this as a comment on her check in: Cuz you just want to know what I'm eating :)
Than she also posted a photo of her food:

With the caption: Mmmmm sope de asada! [insert facebook food diary intake for the day] how's that ;)

'Cause when we talk shit, we do it with a smile on our face, and our hands clenched into fists.
We blatantly talk shit 'cause we can back it up.

This shit is only going to continue for a couple more... weeks.

Girls are such a pain in the ass.
Oh, and so we don't end on a sour note, the catty YoungerSister provided me with the DD of the day:

CattyYoungerSister updated her status to this:
What if one day u put on some eye drops, and u come to realize that it was SUPER GLUE ?!!! :O just a random thought... Hahaha

If I'm not mistaken, Darcy did this as a kid. I know this because he wrote about it a while back. The story stayed in my head because... I mean... that shit MUST hurt. How can you forget something like that?
Anyway, all of her friends were freaking out over how perverse and implausible this was and so I, like the real jackass who likes to kill everything, informed her that it was possible and that it does happen, since it happened to my friend.
Her: Omg no way ?!!!! Wow! That must be insaaaane! So is she ok now? Any baaad damages to her eye?
Me: he's a hottie. he did it when he was a kid, i don't think he knew how to read. his eye is normal, from what I can tell.

Ta-Da! Darcy omnipresent as usual. Oooooo!
How's the cow thing coming along, guys? I had a point, right? You're welcome. 

Crazy Fools

This wedding takes the psycho cake... by far. No contest.

The wedding is tomorrow. I've been dreading it since... a year ago? I'm not sure.
Who would have guessed the issue of me not being in the bridal party would be the tip of the iceberg?

Things exploded today, during the ceremony rehearsal.
The tension reached its boiling point and my sister finally cracked in the church parking lot.
She was screaming and crying. She was calling Mom and then me, incoherently trying to tell us why she was so angry.
She let everyone have it.

Why so angry?
Well, turns out she's not going to walk with the bridal party. You know that part where the couples march down the aisle before the bride? Yeah, that part. They told her SHE wasn't going to do that, since she was only the "girl handing out the little party favors."
Carmen (stupid bitch wife of my first little "boyfriend." Her husband is the first cousin of the bride): YOU don't need to be here. THEY don't need you. You're not even walking in with the bride. You're going to be inside, already sitting on the bench.
Sister: ... what?
Carmen: Yeah. You don't need to be here. Go home.
Sister: ....

What kind of way is that to speak to someone?
Anyway, after hearing that, my sister broke down and went off on her bewildered phone calls.

After some very heated arguments (I just sat there quietly. Most of the time I was wondering if this was all some sort of April Fools joke gone wrong), and after a ton of hurt feelings (at one point Mom said NONE of us were going to the wedding. I held my breath when she said that. That was just crazy talk!), the problems were worked out. People cried. People apologized.
I think we're cool now... ?

I can't wait until this drama is done and over with come tomorrow.

(Ugh! Then I see the news of Lon leaving the Rebs. This is all too much. AH! On top of that, the friend who was making me pop a vein yesterday only managed to further enrage me today. I don't know what the hell she was smoking. It's like Kentucky severely damaged her brain)

Look! A puddle!

I've spent the last two nights trying to patch things up between MGH and one of his best friends.
It's not that I want to, it's that his friend has been texting and calling me at the ungodly hour of two in the morning, incredibly upset with MGH.

Me: Isn't his girlfriend YOUR best friend? Why isn't she fixing this?
Him: Because she sides with him at all times!
Me: What happened?
Him: He pulled me out of his car and physically threw me to the floor.
Me: Oh my God... just now?
(this was at 1:30 in the morning, Thursday night. It was raining in the city, and puddles were everywhere. MGH threw his friend INTO a puddle. How dramatic is that? Boys...)
Him: YES!
Me: Was he drunk?
Him: NO.
Me: Then he must have been REALLY angry.
Him: YES!

I really didn't want to get involved, since trying to "fix" anything between two bickering parties is such a hassle, not to mention a fine line to tread.
MGH is like family to me, so I don't want to throw him under the bus and start talking trash about him with his friend, in hopes of cheering him up (which I could SO easily do).
Then again, I don't want to further insult his friend by placing all blame on him for enraging MGH (which I REALLY feel is what happened... 'cause he's FAR more sarcastic than I am, and he never knows when to cut it out).

What did I do? I tried to make Friend empathize with MGH. MGH is a very chill, calm kid (unless you wake him up from his slumber. Then he turns into a moody punk for the rest of the day), but there are certain topics which ignite a fire in his heart and he'll go ballistic on anyone who taps into them. I think EVERYONE is like that... anyone with a history.
I ended up apologizing for MGH, as well. I told Friend that we're all a little violent when enraged... and that we (MGH and the rest of the family. I include myself, obviously, since I lived a lot of their pain with them) kiiinda have a rough past. For the most part, we do a decent job controlling the rage... but we have  bad days.

Did it help? I don't know. I need to see if I get another angry/irritated call/text today from Friend before I can claim any sort of mediation victory.

I have no idea when I signed up for this job... I could have sworn I passed the baton on to Little Miss Heather. Get your act together, girl!

In other news: something tells me I'm going to be quite the angry panda today. Bachelorette party where I've been advised to "bring cash, the restaurant doesn't split checks?" Uh... yeah... we all know how THAT works out: someone gets SCREWED into paying WAY more than their fair share. And by SOMEONE, I mean ME.
$100?! But I only ate some cheese! What the HECK?!
Quit complaining, Mommy and Daddy pay for everything of yours.
Yeah, you're right... OF MINE. Not half of the stupid PARTY. 
Every single time. Jerks.