Gitanita

So... like... February 20th was kiiiind of a jerk to me.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm in desperate need for a vacation.
I swear some gypsy soul was reincarnated into me or something. I'm not happy when I have to stand around for too long in the same place. I get restless.

I think it's time I make that reservation to Cancun.
I'm getting that cleanse.
Fuck it.

Keep them cars away!

Fuck. My. Ass.

Fuck.
I need to quit being so happy, it never fails to attract negative energy or whatever the fuck.
Guess what I just did.
I just got crashed.
FUCK.

Sister left for Chicago a couple of minutes ago, and I was the one in charge of driving her to the airport.
That goddamn 215 entry at LV BLVD is under some kind of STUPID construction. Not a good thing, considering how many fucks must be drunk driving around there thanks to good old Town Square.
As if that wasn't enough, the stupid fucking idiot BMW-driving cunt in front of me didn't have her lights on and was at a complete STOP. On the freeway entrance. At 11PM.
I hit my breaks twice, which activated the ABS... but still, I managed to hit the blue BMW in front of me, and the red Volkswagen behind me hit me because he freaked.
Blue BMW SPED AWAY. SPED AWAY!!!
THEN! The goddamn Volkswagen dashed into the traffic and got lost!
Umm... ok... so we're going to act like NOTHING happened?! You guys just raped my little Bambi! Get out of your fucking cars, I'm going to smash your face against the hood of your respective cars, motherfuckers!!

The rage subsided and turned to sadness.
My car just got raped... my little Bambi... DPed by drunk motherfuckers. I could have died... M-ahhhhh-m! :'(

I dropped D off at curbside... quietly drove home, then checked up on Bambi.
She's a trooper. She held her own in this scrap. Nothing too bad to deal with... just my fucking rage.

For the next two weeks, I'm meanmugging ALL motherfuckers in blue BMW SUVs and red Volkswagen Golfs.
Assholes.

No Borde el Tren

Divina ilusión... que yo forjé.
I watched the last train pull out of the station today.

That lonely girl, sitting on the bench only giving her back to the world in all those images... finally turned around today. Once the dust settled from the commotion... once everything had settled into... that goddamned trite phrase of "deafening silence," she turned around... and it was me.
Un sueño fue... que no se realizo.
It was always me.
No puedo mas.
There is no saving me. No tengo remedio.
I am completely... utterly alone.
Siento que mi alma se desgarra...



... I had been doing so great. This goddamn... delusional... fucking stupid hopefulness that has refused to die after all these years, the only thing to fucking blame.

That song has such a different meaning for me now.
Estoy sola. Mas sola que nunca. Y no hay manera de remediarlo.
I am such a loser.

Never enough.
I went from being a shadow... to being a ghost.

(Shorter, more embarrassing story: On Wednesday, I was walking the Strip with MGH and his friends, but mainly talking to MGH. I was smiling and laughing... genuinely happy. Then some dude in his mid 20s mocked me. He made fun of my laugh... loudly. This hurt me more than expected. It hurt to see someone ridicule my genuine happiness... my very rare happiness. I almost cried... but instead, I puffed up and went on a violent tirade against this guy, ready to rock this 6-foot-whatever guy's jaw with my fist. I had to get held back and taken away by MGH and Fer. 
It has been a rough couple of days, my friends. I just had to get it off my chest so I could continue with my life as a robot)

Curandero

One of the images that most sticks to my head, is that moment where Bambi gets shot by the hunters and falls to the floor, completely defeated. Suddenly, a thunderous voice commands him to "GET UP!" Bambi looks up, and there you see his father, standing in all is majestic glory.

So, the Universe's sucker-punch to the back of my head came yesterday, as made obvious by the previous post.

It was pretty fucking intense.

So intense, I was unsure about today. 

No, not whether or not I would live to see it, but just how we'd move on.

To say it was an explosion would be putting the shit mildly.

I went off the motherfucking handle... so much so, I'm now on house suicide-watch.

Ummm... yeah. I bet 8-year-old me never saw THAT one coming.

After my... dramatic display of... distress... was done, even I thought "Goddamn, am I possessed or something?"

I said some things that... were downright HEARTLESS. The worst part? I enjoyed it... I did it all with a very cynical... some might say maniacal... smile on my face.

THAT'S what scared me... and made me consider visiting some Veracruz Curandero... have some shaman shake me down with some sacred palm leaves while chanting some ancient, healing verses or something.

The showdown was between Mom and I... and... well, if there was any sort of "victory," I guess it would be me... if victory is considered "uttering the meanest shit possible and making the opponent crumble into uncontrollable sobs." Then yeah, I won. Because, like I said, I didn't cry (during the showdown. "Before" was a completely different story), and I left the room once D was huddled over my violently sobbing Mom, hugging her, pretty much shielding her from me.

I made my mom crack.

And I didn't feel like shit...

which is what kind of scared me.

Holy shit! Am I deranged?!

I thought once the new day would begin, I'd no longer have a computer, a phone, a car, or a house (the threat was made yesterday, to which I responded with something that... might be frowned upon by most societies... maybe not samurais). THAT'S how intense this fight with Mom was last night.

When I woke up, I stayed in my room, not wanting to touch or eat anything, because I swear I thought I was going to get evicted any second.

Instead, I came to realize I was just under suicide watch.

Great.

It's safe to say I've seen better days.

(But in all seriousness, I'll be ok.)

"Good-Son"ed me

Not one of my best days.
The pride of Filipino lions got their way... and I was fired.

If I'm not mistaken, it was a couple of posts back where I was a little nervous about my coworkers sudden change of heart... their unusual kindness.
Something about... being super nice before they chop your head off or something like that?

They totally sweet-talked me into walking to a cliff and they went all "Good Son" on me and pushed me off that fucking cliff when I wasn't looking because I was being too much of a dickhead, giggling at their goddamn jokes.

I'll spare everyone the bitter details.

BUT! I will show everyone the thing that DID manage to put a smile back on my face after all this drama:

...and YOU made MY day.

I love my family.

Gettin' Paper

Someone got paid today.
For the first time ever.
Me!

The day started out rough. I was exhausted... the road I use to get to work was closed due to a fire... and best of all, that stupid catty bitch almost made me cry AGAIN.
I was doing my job. I was sitting there, feeling quite proud of myself for doing everything meticulously correct--being extremely diligent for 8 in the morning-- and next thing I know, Ms. Catty was standing over my shoulder.
By now, I'm like an abused dog who flinches at the mere sight of the SHADOW of anything that resembles a rolled-up newspaper.
The moment I sense someone over my shoulder, I flinch, close my eyes, and prepare myself for the chastising.
Ms. Catty: THAT'S NOT HOW WE DO IT HERE AT WORK!
Oh wow... here we go again...
My tonsils prevented my heart from escaping out of my mouth.
I froze-- sat still, looking at the computer screen.
Ms. Catty reached at my lap, where I was holding the binder I was working on.
I was half-way through with a binder, so the clasps were open.
Ms. Catty: We remove ALL of the papers first, Scan them ALL, THEN put them back in the binder when everything's done. You're wasting too much time the way you're doing it!
She removed all the sheets on the half of the binder I had yet to scan.
I shifted my sight to the keyboard.
Ms. Catty: And move the binder over HERE.
She grabbed the binder by one of the flaps and threw it to the left side of my cubicle. In the process, all the sheets I had replaced in the binder fell out.
Yes.
I didn't move. I didn't say shit.
I wanted to cry. Honestly. I felt beyond embarrassed.

What she did was beyond patronizing.
So, I did what is the only thing I know how to do when someone offends/hurts/embarrasses me past my breaking point: I look them dead in the eye, while the only thing I'm thinking is "Why?"
A very Jesus move on my behalf, but it has been my response to any and all abuse I've ever received... because it really is the only thing I have left-- that question.
Why do you hurt someone who has not done a thing to you? It's just... something I cannot comprehend. I have never been able to understand people's unprovoked cruelty.

The two closest chicks to my cubicle looked over at the scene, and gave me what I hate most: Pity.
They said something to Ms. Catty in Tagalog, in a grave tone, then picked up the sheets closest to them.
Ms. Catty tried putting the sheets back in the binder, but I gently grabbed them from her.
Me: I got it.
I just wanted her to leave.

It took me about three hours to recover from that scene, three hours in which Ms. Catty was nowhere in sight.
The dudes were all very sweet to me. They tried making me laugh... but it's hard to laugh when you've been unjustly humiliated in front of an entire office.
(seriously, the shit that happens to me leaves my head spinning. Does everyone get as verbally abused/attacked as I do? I can't be alone in this shit)

The day started to look up once I was ready to clock out of work.
Ms. Catty was suddenly chummy with me, and tried encouraging me to work extra hours over the weekend.
Wait... my work ISN'T shitty and too sluggish for the weekend? Make up your mind, woman.
I declined, citing my weekend LA trip to catch the Tim Burton exhibition for which I had already purchased tickets (I haven't, but I'm about to, so it was a half-lie).
She wished me a nice trip.
It was then when BossLady walked in and handed me my check.

The moment I got in my car, my day instantly turned brighter.

It's all sunshine and rainbows from there.
Pretty fucking expensive price for sunshine and rainbows.

October's Big Bang

So uh... today wasn't... one of my best days.

You could say October started with a bang for me.
A big one.
A REALLY big one.

On the bright side:
I made peace with Musketeer's wife. For real.
I guess helping someone move out of their apartment by hossing heavy boxes up and down two flights of stairs for five hours will kind of help prove your point that: I'M YOUR FUCKING FRIEND!

On the bad side:
I fought with my mother over yet ANOTHER humiliation suffered at church... at the hands of the fucking stupid ushers.
Backstory: As I helped Musketeer move, he ordered pizza. Since I had been jumping (no, seriously, I was jumping on and off the truck, up and down some stairs), jogging, continuously going up and down two flights of stairs, and lifting heavy shit for five hours (which had me drenched in sweat, I'd be leaving a sweat trail after the third hour, no lie), I decided I'd partake in the pizza-eating.
This fucked me up. My stomach was wishing my death.
AND STILL, I decided to go to church at 5PM (I was done helping Musketeer at 4PM).
Now, I NEVER do this at church, but as a means to encourage my body to start metabolizing the fucking pizza that was killing me, I decided to VERY DISCREETLY chew A STICK of bubblegum.
In the Catholic church, you're not allowed to eat anything a full hour prior to taking the holy communion.
Thing is, I don't take the holy communion.
I've never been a fan of hypocritically going up there as if I'm a sinless creature, because I know I'm not perfect-- I cuss on an hourly basis and I wish harm on others at least twice a week. That, in my book, makes me unworthy of going up there... so I DON'T go. I'm sincere in my behavior when it comes to that aspect. The moment I fuck up is the moment I quit taking communion, even if it's something as simple as me cussing at D.

OK, so that was my rationalizing of that even.
My stomach hurts, this pizza needs to get digested... I'm not going to take holy communion... so I'm going to DISCREETLY chew on this stick of gum to encourage my stomach to digest. Mass is an hour long, I'll hang on to this gum until I get home.

What happens? About five minutes into mass, a stupid little cunt, about 14 years old pokes my left arm and tells me
Bitch: Are you chewing gum?
Me: What?
I look down and see she's holding a Kleenex in her right hand and pointing at it with her left.
I look at the Kleenex, then at her.
I raise my left eyebrow.
You're kidding me, right? Who the fuck do you think you are?
Bitch: Can you spit out your gum?!
I look back down at her hand, make eye-contact, roll my eyes, scoff, and wave her away with my left hand (she was down to my shoulder, since we were both standing up).
Me: It's all right. I'll swallow it.

The little twat walked away.
Since I'm not a complete asshole, I decided to swallow the gum.
BUT I kept moving my mandibles as if I were chewing... because I wanted the goddamn metabolic process to fucking begin. BECAUSE MY STOMACH HURT.
Five minutes later, another girl walks up to me. This one giving me a more "hardass" look. She did the same thing with the Kleenex. She was about 15.
Bitch#2: Spit out your gum!
I made eye contact with her. I made sure to give her the MEANEST glare in my repertoire. My "Who THE FUCK do you think you are?! Get away from me before I fucking KNOCK THE TASTE OUT YOUR MOUTH" glare.
I wanted to make sure I made my point clear-- if she, or any other fucking asshole in that building approached me, I was going to do just that, knock their fucking teeth out.
Excommunication be damned, I was going to beat a motherfucking condescending cunt right then and there. I KNOW the rules. I FOLLOW the rules... to damn near motherfucking perfection... for all TWENTY-SIX motherfucking years of my life.
Me: WHAT GUM?! THE ONE I SWALLOWED FIVE MINUTES AGO?!
Bitch#2: Oh. Ok. ::between her teeth:: Thank. You.
Mind you, all this shit went on as the gospel was being read by the priest and we all stood there, listening.
The people sitting around me all saw this scene... of these fucking twats trying to condescend ME, a 26 year old who was minding her own fucking business... DISCREETLY chewing gum to kickstart her goddamn metabolism. The 26 year old who has been attending that church for TWENTY SIX YEARS.

I spent the rest of mass grinding my teeth, chewing my tongue and inside of my cheeks.

OK, so there's that.
I came home and I was talking about it with D. Laughing about it.

Of course, Mom had to come in and add her two cent.
More than two cents.
As always, she took sides with the church.
She said things that greatly upset me, and no matter how hard I tried explaining my situation, she wouldn't listen.
It was ALL YOUR FAULT and YOU DESERVED IT.
I AM A GOOD PERSON! I AM A GOOD CATHOLIC! I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY THESE MOTHERFUCKERS WHO RARELY GO TO CHURCH BUT SUDDENLY HOLD A SPOT AS AN USHER FEEL SO FUCKING ENTITLED TO SHAME ME IN FRONT OF THE CONGREGATION FOR BULLSHIT.
And we kept going at it.
Me: If they would have sent ONE more fucking little bitch, I would have spit in her fucking face. I WOULD HAVE!
Mom: You're crazy, AnoMALIE. YOU'RE REALLY CRAZY!
I was quiet. I covered my eyes, took in a deep breath, trying to calm down... and I said what I was really thinking.
Me: You'll never understand. You'll just never understand. I don't want to... listen to you... even look at you right now. Please get away from me.
Mom: IF YOUR STOMACH HURT SO MUCH, WHY DID YOU GO TO CHURCH?! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO GO TODAY! WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST WAIT TO GO TOMORROW?!

And suddenly... something in my head and heart snapped.
I was done being nice. I was done walking on eggshells. I was done holding it in.
I looked her dead in the eye, and as... honestly as possible, but knowing I was going to hurt her, but getting some sort of... evil joy knowing I WOULD, I said the truth.
Me: Wanna know WHY I went today? WANNA KNOW WHY?! BECAUSE I WANT TO GET RID OF THE CHURCH CHORE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I WANT TO FINISH THAT TASK AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I WANT TO GET IT OVER WITH AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. BECAUSE I FUCKING HATE IT. IF IT WERE UP TO ME, I WOULD HAVE STOPPED GOING TO CHURCH FUCKING FOUR YEARS AGO!!!!

That's where Dad walked into my room. He saw how wildly I was crying, mascara smeared all over my face--not just my eyes-- from rubbing my face so hard in my exasperation.
He immediately asked me what was wrong.

I don't know what it is about my pops, but whenever he wants me to explain a situation that has me upset, I just lose it.
I couldn't get past two sentences before I was sobbing too hard to make coherent sounds.

Somehow, I managed to tell him the story, explaining how what I was doing didn't merit that sort of... public chastising/humiliation, when there were many other people being FAR MORE disruptive than I was (two benches ahead of me, there was this imbecilic mother allowing her stupid spawn to rip pages out of the missal. FAR more destructive than any bullshit I was supposedly doing).
Dad took my side, saying the least he would have done would have been to slap the stupid little bitch across the face.
Mom stormed out of my room (she went to bed without giving me her blessing. She has never done that before).
I kept crying.
Mom wouldn't defend me against her church... that shit hurts... a lot. Then again... it's thanks to that adherence that she... ignored what happened to me 19 years ago...

And that's how my parents found out I'm... possibly possessed by the devil.

Hello, October.

Amputation

Next week, they might amputate my dog's hind paw.
I can't even look him in the face... it makes my heart break and the waterworks begin.
I'm so, SO sorry, Tyson...
I feel like the worst fucking human on the planet.

Yeah... today has not been a good day.

_______

Guess what!

_________________________

Yeah, but where?

_________________________

Yes! How'd you guess?!

_________________________

Sucks, right?!

_________________________


Kinda rough day today for little ol' AnoMALIE.
So much so, I don't feel like talking much.
Instead, I'll dedicate this song to my adopted sister Mooney, who had an even rougher day. She told me something that broke my heart, because I relate.

I too am tired of being alone, so please know I'll always keep you company.
When I'm bummed, this song--while heartbreaking-- makes me feel better... because it helps me get it all out. This bad boy is on repeat for days when I'm bummed. Maybe it'll work for you? It's Ben Folds... and we all know how cool that guy is :)
Feel better young lady!

And so, 
Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call form a friend.
The same. It's the same 
Why's it always the same?
Annie waits for the last time.
The clock
Never stops, never stops, never waits.
She's growing old. It's getting late.
And so, he forgot, he forgot... maybe not?
Maybe he's been seriously hurt?
Would that be worse?
Headlights crest the hill.
Shadows pass her by and out of sight.
Annie sees in dreams
Friday bingo, pigeons in the park.
Annie waits for the last time.
Just the same as the last time.
Annie says:
"You see? This is why I'd rather be alone..."
And so, Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call from a friend.
The same. It's the same. Why's it always the same?
Annie waits as the last
Headlights crest the hill.
Who will be the one forever more?
Annie, I could be...
If we're both still lonely when we're old.
Annie waits for the last time.
Just the same as the last time.
Annie waits for the last time.
Just the same as the last time.
Annie waits
But not for me.

Apoco no es allegadora la canción? Makes me cry... or at least frown, every time... especially the bold parts (it's like this guy read my diary for inspiration).
Once I don't cry, I know I'm ok.

Love you, primiux!

Hope

Using only one hand, I can count how many times a wish has come true for me... actually, I can use no hands.
I've always been optimistic, and cheerful. As terrible as a situation may be, my heart always gives me this retarded hope that things will get better... that things will go my way some day.
I've always thought that.
Even if not a single one of my wishes has ever come true (CURSE YOU, WALT DISNEY!!!).

Why mention this now?
I got UNLV's e-mail.
It was the stupidest rejection letter of all.
It came with a freakin' "PS" for crying out loud (the PS was to tell me that I'm getting ANOTHER rejection notification on the MyUNLV website thing-a-majig. That one will be the "official" rejection. The e-mail was just a "ok, you can quit worrying now" notification, I suppose. Gee... thanks?)!
This happened yesterday, but so many terrible things happened yesterday, this e-mail was only the final slap to my face that I needed for the day.

I was upset from the very beginning because Mom, Sister, and I had a heated argument that broke out because (this is SO embarrassing, but it goes to show how estrogen messes up a household. I hate being a girl) Sister broke my soap (see, I told you). I wasn't the one who lost my head, Sister did. I was in the bathroom, about to shower when I saw my soap in smithereens on the tub floor. I said "WHAT THE HELL?" Sister asked "What?" I asked her why she just neglected my bar of soap like that... and she went ballistic on me (she only grows balls when she can't see me. Had I not been behind a door, in my underwear, I would have been in her face, chewing her out like a staff sergeant).
Mom then got involved, started screaming like.... a mental patient... and she said something that got to me, so what did I do? I told her how I felt. No, I TOLD HER HOW I FELT. I did the same with sister... although how I feel towards her is completely different (I told Mom about my suicidal thoughts--yeah, it got that bad-- but not before telling D how I feel she no longer treats me like a sister).

SO... yesterday was a very tough day for me.
Tears were just rolling down my cheeks regardless of where I was or who was around:
I'd be sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea with Mom, and tears would just start to roll.
I was washing dishes, and I'd catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, and I'd start sniffling and the heaviest tears in the universe would just plop down into the sink.... I probably could have cleaned the dishes with my tears.
I'd be watching The Bad Girls Club and the tears in my eyes would sting (My future!! I'm going to end up in some TV show because of my anger management problems! I USED TO BE SMART!).
I did my nightly prayer and started to cry then as well (I should just go to a convent and become a nun! But I don't even like to pray... I'm not even good for THAT!).

My eyes were swollen all day yesterday and part of today.
However... that stupid optimistic girl in me came out today.
Sister, Mom, and I patched things up over lunch.
Mooney and my future godson then made me giggle for the evening.
I had a long over-due favorite beer to end my day.

How am I now?
Eh. I'm ok.

I'm still more confused than ever before (I was so upset yesterday, I went out and started applying for jobs... then I looked up volunteering opportunities. I was so... upset). Big time.
But... I'm not crying any more. So that's a positive, right?

Plus, I now get to take that "I'm a %$@*ing LOSER!" tour. Not too shabby... I guess (especially considering the only time I've felt *truly* happy has been the time I spent in Spain. Nothing compares to the way that place made feel).

Fine

Did you know "parking" on a crosswalk is a thousand dollar fine?
I learned that the hard way yesterday.
And I still didn't cuss.

Yesterday was BUNK! The party... UNLV losing... And I STILL didn't cuss.

Rafa woke me up this morning by holding my nose.
Yep. And I STILL didn't cuss (he DID get punched, however).

Rafa has taken ownership of my room and television to watch all the college basketball games...
and I haven't cussed.

This weekend is looking to be TERRIBLE.
Oh, and yesterday I forgot to wish.
Now, since these last few months I've jotted the wish down, today I won't. I made the wish last night around 11... now we'll see if it comes true.

Aaaaaaaa!

So... it appears that little motherfucker I killed the other day (the spider) ended up being the goddamned Spider Emperor or some shit...
I made some spider community VERY angry by killing their damn leader.
My foot injury turned out to be not one... not two... or three... but FIVE spider bites to my fucking left foot.
FIVE. On one foot. The bastards bit THROUGH my sock... and raped the fuck out of my foot.
My right foot was bitten twice.

Needless to say, yesterday I was MISERABLE AS FUCK!
I was so miserable and paranoid, I asked my sister if I could sleep in her room... since the spiders probably wouldn't be able to find me there.
I went to bed around four in the morning, 'cause I swear I felt spiders crawling all over me.
It was terrible sleep... but in the morning, I was relieved to see my foot was less swollen (oh God, I seriously pondered taking a photo of my foot... but I was TOO grossed out by it... I still get goosebumps when I think about it). My sister was pretty upset, though... she woke up with a spider bite on the inside of her right elbow.
What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck do you wear to attract spiders, you freak?! Look what they did to me!
Ooooopsies. She was wearing a hoodie, mind you, when she got bitten.

Still, after all this, I said "Fuck you, foot! I'm still working out, you piece of shit! Fuck the pain!" and I went off to lift to my little heart's content.
Mistake.
Well, I was good, up until the clean and pressing. With six more to go, I started getting tunnel vision, and the music started to sound further away (and I was lifting weak-sauce weight, so this freaked me out).
I tried shaking it off, but half way through some tricep push-ups, I went all... weak... and I couldn't move an inch further because I could feel the puke fighting (and beating) my cardiac sphincter. I felt light headed, and took a ten minute break (a fucking eternity!). I finally called it quits when it came to the lunges. They felt HORRIBLE! Others asked me if I was ok, because I looked like a ghost.
I'm ok... it's just the Proactiv... it's fucking with my pigmentation and turning me into a white girl.
Before getting in my car, I did what is second nature to me, and I barfed next to my car's back tire.
A sweet little forget-me-not for the driver who was going to take my spot.

After vomiting, I felt refreshed... sure, my breath smelled like shit, but I was back to hearing and feeling.
I felt so fantastic, I went off and played photographer with my buddy's band (after showering and brushing my teeth, of course).

My day grew instantly better when I was given this little guy:

He looks so friendly! AND smart!

He doesn't have a name yet. So far, all I know is that I want to make some sort of name amalgamation between Albert Camus and... some other philosopher... not sure who the other person will be. So right now, he's just Albert.

Anyway, hanging out with the BFF and her band made me feel better, and completely forget about my stupid foot.
My favorites?

It has an eerie feel... and I LOVE it!

It was between this one and the one with the gnome :)

I like the feel of this one, too

Aaaaaasterionella!

And many more, but I don't want to be over here like one of those annoying mothers who constantly show photos of their kids to anyone who will look.

I was too busy snapping photos of the guys to remember about my swollen foot.

Notice what's missing from my day?
I kiiiind of forgot to eat.
Is that what spider venom does to a person? Suppress hunger? Some suckers might want to try this out.

Oh, and now, before going to bed, I checked out my foot, and bam! ALL BETTER. Yeah, the middle toe is still slightly swollen, but my entire foot is back to its normal color.
Take that, spiders! Your fucking venom ain't shit! Look at me, only growing more immune to your shit! FUCK YOU!

All right... ok... I'm better now. I had to get that out of my system. I officially LOATHE (not to be confused with FEAR. I don't fear those fuckers. I just hate them and I will NEVER do anything to attempt to save/conserve them. Burn in hell, spiders... except tarantulas... I like those. They're precious) spiders with ALL of my SOUL.

Ok, I need to go to bed... I'm fucked up.

Dog piss

Favorite "Merry Christmas" text received yesterday:
Unknown Number: Merry Christmas to u and your new fam!!!
Me: New fam? Thank you?

I was tempted to post it on FB, to ask what dumbass was responsible, but I opted against it... because too many people get offended when I'm irritated and posting on FB. I'll eventually find out when I bump into him/her in the future... then I'm going to karate chop his throat, or yank her hair if it's a girl... which I'm leaning towards, since I really, really suspect this dickhead is a chick from my Dad's side of the family.

Anyway, onto today's shit:
In Mexico (or at least, with Mexicans in my part of the country), to say you're having a shitty day, or shitty luck, you say a dog pissed on you... or that all you need for your shitty day to be complete is for a dog to piss on you.
I'm guilty of using this expression... but today, well, see for yourself:

And I'm so nice to that stupid little bitch. That's my left leg, btw. 

Needless to say, my day has been shit-tastic.

The day started at 5:30AM for me... and it dragged the fuck on until I was able to take a nap at 9AM.
I was woken up at 10AM by a text message from my sister.
Do you wanna be in D's wedding? She asked me if you would be upset if you weren't in it
No.

Fucking retard (D, not my sister).
It PISSES me off that this girl is STILL contacting my sister instead of going directly to me... the bitch is my cousin. COME ON! It's a motherfucking text! How hard is that?!
And then she goes and acts like this is all a secret... thinking my sister hasn't informed me that she's going to be part of D's wedding, that she has known this for at least a month... D thinks I'm oblivious to it? I live with my sister, retard. I talk to her EVERY. DAY. I know what underwear she's wearing... come the fuck on.
I'm also angry because this perfectly exemplifies why I hate apologies.
It takes people MONTHS to realize they've been fucked up to me. They realize that oh fuck... ok... maybe that was a little jacked on my behalf. Ehhhh, I'll just apologize. She'll be ok. It's AnoMALIE, she always forgives.
So I say FUCK. THAT. SHIT. Upset me, and trust me, I'll let you know. I'll take your fucking apology and wipe my ass with it. Enough is enough. People trample me because they think an apology will fix the embarrassment and lowered sense of self-worth inflicted on me. I have a very, very low level of self-esteem--mainly demolished thanks to family like D who go above and beyond the call of duty to let me know how horribly undesirable and imperfect I am-- it doesn't take much to knock me off my feet and into the fucking abyss of self-loathing.
I don't know, maybe I'm not making sense and I'm just being an incoherent angry slob right now, I mean, I did get pissed on by a bastard dog today--and on my favorite pair of pants-- so maybe I'm a little on the belligerent side.
But I will say this: I'm not going to be nice.
SO, as a way to really, REALLY be a cunt, I'm going to go to this wedding and look TERRIBLY miserable... shit, I might let a couple of people "accidentally" find me crying in the bathroom.
18 couples... and I'm the only cousin missing because D didn't even bother to ask me. It's damn hard looking happy at this thing. I'm sorry you had to see me like this, guys... I came to the bathroom when I couldn't take it any more.
That shit's gonna look reeeeal nice.

Maaaaan.
This shit had me worked up all day... enough that it frustrated me to tears... mainly because I know all this shit I'm saying right now, I'm really not gonna do. I really am too nice. I'm just going to sit there with my parents, and plaster that damn fucking stupid smile I always show to the world, trying to convince everyone that I was just born with sad eyes, so they should only pay attention to the shy smile on my face.
Will I cry in the bathroom? Probably, but in the privacy of a stall.
It really, really sucks to be... overlooked like this, especially when it's not the first time it happens. But I guess I can look on the bright side: at least this time I wasn't told I wasn't "hot enough" to be in the wedding like that one time D's brother told me back in '05 for his wedding. Now that shit fucked me up, especially when I saw he wasn't kidding. Then he went off and told everyone I told him I didn't want to be part of it. People were approaching me the entire night saying "Damn, AnoMALIE, what's wrong with you? EVERYONE was in the wedding except you. Look at how much fun your cousins are having being part of the wedding (oh boy, where they! They were hammered half an hour into the reception. Every one of them). You really missed out. You should try being less shy. Join the crowd." It was hard keeping a straight face when I'd hear that sort of shit... so I'd just shrug to keep from speaking and having my voice betray me. Doing that is SO hard, and I certainly don't enjoy it.

Who knows... I'm working on going abroad around the time of the wedding, to avoid being in the damn country. BCN fixes everything... and I won't have to listen to family and give fake explanations and act nonchalantly.

I really need to go to a batting cage and just smash those fucking balls (ha... that sentence made me laugh).

Sorry guys, I'm sad, angry, and irritated. I get sentimental and write stupid shit I could never say out-loud... since I'm AnoMALIE: the nice, quiet, sweet, forgiving, stupid girl.

I fucking hate people.

Tender Heart... isn't that a Care Bear?

Something I found that made me scoff (because it turned out to be true):

MGH is more decisive and direct, but also somewhat more naive and simple (psychologically speaking) than AnoMALIE is. You two can balance one another nicely. MGH depends on A's sensitivity and gentleness to soothe, heal, and provide a sanctuary from the world of competing and achieving. A, on the other hand, admires and probably needs M's forthrightness, honesty, and willingness to act boldly.

A is more of a giver, and can be very self-denying, while M is self-absorbed, and can unintentionally take advantage of  A's generosity. M also lacks tact and subtlety sometimes, and inadvertently wounds A's tender feelings.

My "tender feelings." Aww... cute! But I'd rather call them "stupid feelings."
Ok, I'll quit being cynical.

My "tender feelings" were especially tender today. As if the weekend hadn't been SHITTY ENOUGH, I woke up to horrible news-- I won't discuss it here though.
Point is, I spent my Sunday morning/afternoon crying.
Once I stopped being "tender," I went about and submitted two more of my applications (I don't know what it is about feeling miserable, but that shit gets me to work. I get shit DONE when I'm feeling like jumping off a bridge. It's like my brain says "Ok! Before you kill yourself... could you just... do this right quick for me? Please?" and something I've been putting off for months gets completed in a couple of hours. Then I feel all accomplished and I put off killing myself for some other day). So, now I'm for sure getting at least three letters in the mail in a couple of months... whether of acceptance, or the more probable rejection, but they'll be there. Money!

I did get some good news before calling it a day. The good news came courtesy of a couple of texts from Pacemaker.
Pacemaker: Hey lady, what's your address? I'm sending you something.
Me: PEANUT BUTTER?! :)
Pacemaker: OMG. You're so weird. But ok, I'll add some in there.

Feed me peanut butter, and I will be yours forever. I'll even endure verbal abuse ::cough:: Pacemaker ::cough:: for the love of PB.
No one is aware of this secret, and I hope to keep it that way. I don't want anyone to know they can have that much power over me thanks to some smoothly blended legumes.
... And now that I think about it... there has been no peanut butter in my house for over a year... I suspect that might be largely responsible for my shit attitude. Guess I know what I'm doing tomorrow.

... wow...

Things weren't just crashing and burning...
things fucking EXPLODED this past weekend.

...

my god... I can't believe things went down like this...

I am definitely moving far, far away... Barcelona if all goes well.

I'm done.

Dudes

All right... I was a little frustrated last night.
I thought about deleting the post, but eh, whatever. I get frustrated and sentimental sometimes... it's ok if people see that once in a while... I'm not a robot.

I did wake up with fucked up, puffy eyes... and I did keep crying (last night there were even times when I'd be dry-heaving. I was just so angry, upset, humiliated, depressed, fed up... you name it) up until a couple of minutes ago when my mom called.
I try not to cry around her because she's pretty bad when it comes to that sort of thing. Instead of comforting me and whatnot, she'll get pissed and scream at me things like "And why are you crying?! You don't cry over that type of shit! Now, suck it up and act normal!!"
Yeah... she's not the gentlest mom out there. She has always been more of a "dude" when it comes to parenting.

And talking about dudes... I hope they have a happy Father's Day.

How do I put this nicely?

............

.....................

............................

I'm not mad.
I'm not upset.
I'm just... disappointed.

Signs the day wasn't going according to plan?
1) I (along with 3 other bridesmaids that were in the same car) was the last girl to get to church.
2) I broke a sweat jogging to the back of the line of 25 couples, yes, 25!
3) I was the tallest girl there.
4) I was the only girl there with a baggy dress...
5) Walking down the aisle, close to the front of the church, I tripped... BIG time (the heel of my shoe got stuck on the back of my dress, since the dress was still too long)... if it weren't for my partner (I'll get to that later) gripping on to me with a death grip, I would have fallen flat on my ass (the crowd did gasp, though. I'm such a thrill seeker!).
6) Along with almost tripping, I simultaneously almost flashed the congregation... including the priest, who was not too happy with me.
7) Half-way through mass, I realized my skirt was stuck... well... in there... yes... I had... I was... they saw... my God...
8) I spent the rest of mass picking my crack each time I stood up... that, and I'd also tug my top up... because I'm paranoid like that.
9) My male arch-enemy was paired-up directly ahead of me. He'd constantly turn around to stare (he sort of has always had a thing for me. I on the other hand, never have. I didn't hold anything against him, though, until one day, I heard him say something very derogatory about me. I was 14, had a fragile self-image... and this made me cry for months. Needless to say, I have been plotting revenge against him ever since)... and I'd take the time to glare right back... with my best scowl... with the excuse that the sun was in my eyes... yes, even once we were inside the Circus-Circus hotel.
10) There were more cowboy hats in the crowd than at the PBR National Finals Rodeo.
11) My partner left me for a good three minutes during one of the dances... I just stood there like a dickhead looking for him....
12) They served HALF A CHICKEN on each plate. HALF A CHICKEN!! WTF? I almost fought a little girl for her plate of chicken fingers. (This is not my friend's fault, though. It's her stupid husband and father-in-law. They ordered incorrectly. I told her later on that had that been my case, I would have called him a fucking idiot, then called the wedding off. Fuck that shit--yeah, I know, and I wonder why I'm still single)
13) They ran out of cake!!
14) They never filled the glasses! I was so thirsty, I could have drank my own piss (so instead, I just left)

and the top sign this day was CRAP:
15) As I'm dancing the "Dollar dance" with the groom, the only thing he keeps saying is:
"I'm SO SORRY! He's just... so fucking retarded. No, I swear, he's a retard... I'M SO SORRY! He's just retarded. I had to put him in... even though he's retarded. Please don't feel bad!"

Yeah...

Seriously, my partner was mentally handicapped... and not the nice, "Aww... well, I still want to help you out!" type, but the crazy, "Oh my God, why are you wishing death upon your own cousin?" scary type.

Ok... now I can go to bed and fucking cry my eyes out (why do they always do that to me? ::ok, I'm crying now. God, I didn't know I felt so strongly about this:: I'm the one who gets the dude NOBODY wants. I'm the fucking giant who almost burst into flames each time she sees a fucking midget half my age with a guy perfect in stature and build for me. WHY?! Do I appear to be that super nice that I wouldn't say shit? Well, yeah, you're right, I don't. I suck it up and smile and try to make my partner feel like less of an outcast... wouldn't anybody else?! Why must I always be the one put in that predicament? That is NOT cool. Not cool at all, but then again, I think maybe that happens so often because I'm the girl nobody wants. I'm the ugly one amongst the pretty, petite girls... who usually gets asked because it'd be considered mean not to... because they ask for my sister since she's a pretty girl--although there has been one, a first cousin actually, who asked for both my siblings and left me out because I wasn't "hot enough." I heard that out of his own mouth. He then went about telling everyone I had said I didn't want to be in the wedding... which was pure bullshit. Ok, I'll stop talking now, I hate sharing this type of shit here).
I gotta be ready for when those damn pictures get posted all over the fucking internet, so I can appear cool and calm about the whole thing.

You guys have no idea how badly I wanted to strangle myself with my shawl. That shit sucked.

Oh no...

Well...

Saturday's birthday ranks in my top 5 of worst birthdays... nah, let's call it a top 3... because I've never really had HORRIBLE birthdays... most often, they're pretty rad... I can only think of... two other bad birthdays (surprise, surprise, they both landed on Ash Wednesday)... then there's my 20th birthday. It's not top 3 because I did have fun until the last 20 minutes of it when I totally lost it and started bawling due to the incredible exasperation I felt.
So... here are the reason (if anyone cares.... oh fuck, did I turn Emo with this new birthday?):
1) My Dad didn't wish me a happy birthday.
2) My siblings weren't home (I'm used to not having my bro... finally... but being sister-less sucked balls)
3) Mr. Darcy forgot. First time in 3 years. (a ton of people forgot, but who gives a shit? I wanted him to remember, and that's what matters. He's always so creative when it comes to wishing me a happy birthday...)
4) This thing never seems to end. (no matter how much I tell daddy to not hold off getting tested, he won't listen. He's unusually chill about it all. He went to this place... I think it was October... it might have been September? This news, while it no longer upset me, does still piss me off... PRIME example of why I said FUCK IT to being a doctor. Too many stupid motherfuckers who only see dollar signs in patients instead of caring for their actual well-being... it drains the fucking life out of you)
5) I had a terrible headache the entire day... and it decided to last an extra 24 hours onto yesterday.
6) This wonderful birthday gift dad gave me as I headed out on my birthday:

Dad: Mija... so have you heard the news?
Me: (Smile) ... no...
Dad: Ok... well... don't tell anybody, it's a sensitive matter.
(I STILL smile... I'm such a retard. He always talks about money with me--that's what I thought he was going to do, since recently, it's become a very serious matter-- because I'm the one who'll pat him in the back or jump up with glee. I dare you not to smile when someone gives you an eight-digit number... I DARE you!)
Me: O...k
Dad: They kidnapped Walrus'* youngest son in TJ.
Me: ... so... they finally accomplished it?
Dad: Yeah... Walrus paid the ransom... but they didn't give him his son back...
(I'm gaping... I can't shut my mouth no matter how hard I try)
Me: Oh my God... that's awful....
Dad: Walrus' brothers and sisters know... and His-Snitch-Sister-In-Law told Dad'sCousin who then told Mom'sGoddaughter... who then told the world.
Me: Oh my God...
(* Not actual name, duh)

Instead of going out like I had originally planned... I just went to church... dazed... and came back home... dazed.
I've been handling this bad headache... and I've been sort of nauseous since getting the news.
I'm in awe that anyone would do this... to ANYONE. It's... so... terrible.
My Dad brags WAY more than Walrus when it comes to money... so the news was like... a double whammy. I've reminded dad about three times since: YOU see what happens when you let people know how much money you have?!
Jesus Christ... as if I wasn't paranoid enough.
Anyway... my heart goes out to the family... and I can't help but frown each time I think of the pain they must be facing right now, not knowing where... how... their son is.

March, baby, why so fucking... weird? I love you, don't you love me? We had enjoyed 22 years together in perfect harmony (ok, I'll admit, when Selena got shot and killed in 1995, I was pretty upset with you)... and this is what you give me in 2008? Thanks, bitterass bitch...

P.S. Lovin' the wind, slut.

It has begun...

I don't eat when I'm nervous/upset.

Of course, I never really know when I'm upset/nervous.
I'll just notice the adults around me getting pissed off because I turn down everything they offer (have an eating disorder once in your life and they'll never forgive you... even after seven years)... including chocolate... and that's when the angels in heaven sing:

Hallelujah!!!
You're upset, AnoMALIE!

First. we got lost trying to get tot he hospital.
Then my sister got a phone call from Older Brother who was asking us what we wanted from Notre Dame... all the while I'm trying to get directions from Mom... and all you hear is me and Little Sister going at it.

Me: Shut the fuck up, for a motherfucking second!!
Little Sister: You shut the fuck up, bitch!!
Me: Look, you little cunt, shut the fuck up before I fucking punch the fuck out of you!
LS: Why don't you try it? Fuck, AnoMALIE, you're such a fucking bitch!!
Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP!! I'm trying to get directions, you dumb, annoying idiot!! This is more important!
Bro: Dang... what's going on?
LS: AnoMALIE's being a fucking dumb bitch right now... let me call you later.
Me: You shut the fuck up!!

I'm so rational, aren't I?

Anyway, once we found the lobby, I sat from 1PM until 4 PM waiting for Mom to come out of Dad's room because supposedly, she was going to stay with him until they wheeled him out for surgery at 2:30.
As the time ticked away, I was ready to take drugs or some shit to make me pass out and make me stop thinking the crazy shit that was running through my mind.
Finally, Mom came out... and then the waiting game continued until 7:30 when the surgeon came out to tell us everything was cool.
Then we played the waiting game some more until 9 to see my very sedated Daddy.

Now I'm home.
Hungry-ish... kind of cranky... with a headache... and I still sort of feel like I'm having an out of body experience.

But my Pops is A-OK.... even 35 pounds lighter.

The ALMOST-excommunication of AnoMALIE

Goodness, it had been a while I didn't hang out with my Dad's side of the family.
Yesterday I realized why:
No other large group of people ignores me so well.

Shit… not even when I'm at a concert do I get ignored by masses of people like I do when I make the huge mistake of attending a Dos Santos* family gathering.

Maybe the fact that I was already upset by the time I reached the party had a lot to do with it.
This is why:

I thought that maybe after getting church over with by going to Saturday evening's mass, I'd be able to enjoy my cousin's twentieth birthday party a lot better... instead of having to leave early because I'd have to get up early Sunday morning for church.

I asked Dad to give me a lift to church, and told him that if he did that, I'd let him take my car to the party as a thank you.
Dad's more anal about being on time to things than I am, so he dropped me off at church at 6:20 PM.
Mass begins at 7 PM.

I had 40 minutes to kill… so I went inside the church, took a seat, and began to check my e-mail on my phone.
There were maybe, at most, fifteen other people in the building (the lights weren't even turned on in there!)… when this jackass (who I could tell was part of the orderlies because of the stupid little blue suit and tie he was wearing) approached me from behind.
I moved my legs to the right, since I was sitting at the left-most part of the bench and I thought he was trying to come in through my side to take a seat.
Next thing I know, the bitch gets in my face and says:

You can't talk in here.
Me: I'm talking? (I always knew I secretly suffered from Tourette's Syndrome!)
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: No cell phone use is allowed in here.
(points at my phone while looking me menacingly, dead in the eye)
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: Turn. That. Off.
(begins to walk away)
Me: But mass hasn't even started yet!

The idiot leaves out the front doors like he owns the place.

The bastard was probably five foot three (and he was wearing so much cologne that I even "ate" some when I spoke to him. Fucking gross)… yet here he was getting in my face while I sat quietly on the church's shoddy bench reading my e-mail… trying to kill 40 freaking minutes before mass. I was being silent the entire time… the bench made more noise than I did… yet this motherfucker had the balls to give me shit (no wonder people are leaving St. Anne in hoards... they have pricks like this motherfucker getting in your face as you sit quietly on a bench checking some e-mail).

So what did I do?
I switched over to the games on my phone and began playing Bounce Out (but I still kept my phone on silent).

Fuck you, asshole, if you think you're going to boss me around and chastise me like I'm some fucking little child. Bitch, I have more seniority in this parish than your dumb ass does. Fuck you, you little trick. This is what I think about you bossing me around, motherfucker.

It was 6:30 when the asshole comes again, and this time he raises his voice at me.

Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: I told you to turn that off!
Me: (Biiiiiiiiiiiiitch! What the fuck is your problem?!) Am I bothering anyone?
(I look around and see the four people sitting in other benches far, far away from me)
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: You can't talk to people while you're in here.
Me: I'm talking to people?? Has mass started?
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: What?
Me: Has mass even started?
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: No, but this is the house of the lord! You need to respect it!
Me: (moron, is this how you treat girls? Maybe that's why you're fucking 40 and still single, you fucking plug of a man) I know that… I'm a catechism teacher. I'm not disrespecting anything!
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: Turn. That. Off.
(He reaches for my phone)
Me: ( Oh helllllllllllllll no, bitch! Touch my phone and I'll rip your balls off right here, right now!) Am I making any noise? Am I interfering with anyone's meditation? AM I MAKING ANY NOISE?!
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: What are you doing???
(He starts covering the screen on my phone)
Me: Passing the time! It's 6:30, I'm alone, and this place is empty! It's still dark in here for crying out loud!
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: If you think it's so necessary to do that, take it outside!
(He grabs my elbow and pulls. I pull back my elbow as hard as possible--boy, did I thank Body Pump for this-- and I glare at him while holding back the urge to spit in his face like a camel. People are now staring at us... some still kneeling with rosaries in their hand, but none come to my aid)
Me: (Are you kicking me out?! Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck. You!) No! It's cold outside, and I want to sit Right. Here.
Jackassmidgetmotherfucker: Turn. That. Off!!
(He sort of smirks... which kind of irks me... Why do you smirk in the middle of an argument when a chick almost twice your size is ready to wring your neck?)
Me: I’LL DO THAT WHEN I WANT TO!
(I glare until he looks away. I then go back to playing the game on my phone)

At this point, my eyes are watery and my voice is shaking because I'm so livid (come on now, I'm not that much of a badass. I do get pretty upset when I argue with people. I'm a Pisces, I cry!).
He once again makes a grab for my phone, I pull it away, glare at him again (did this guy just want to make eye contact with me?), and scream "Later!"

I was throwing a bona fide tantrum... but I was also kind of fearing for my safety.
It worked for me though, because the asshole walked away… smiling.

The whole time I was wondering if the shit was a joke… or if he though this was a great way to pick up chicks… because he made this attack on me as I sat alone on my bench with the nearest person to me being three benches away!
No way would he have done this to me had I been sitting with at least one other person near me.
Anyway… this little exchange had me furious throughout mass. Various times I found myself biting my bottom lip because it'd quiver each time I thought about this asshole screaming at me (but also I'd get all sentimental thinking about how the other jerks in church didn't do shit when they saw this jackass trying to boss me around. One lady in particular made me sad, because she knows me, yet she sat there and just watched as this bitch screamed at me).

I hate getting scolded, and especially when it's unwarranted.
I'm twenty-two freaking years old. 22!! Why are people still screaming at me like I'm 3? What gives anyone the right to scream at another person as if they're the damn rulers of the universe?

So this had me angry for the rest of the day.
I told Mom the story. She said:

You and your sister have a vocabulary... it sends chills down people's spine, it's so scary! You just look like a trouble maker…

And here I thought I always looked like a scared idiot.

I ask myself:
Why did he pick on me?
Was it my hotpink, kick ass, nailpolish?
Was it my low-cut shirt (don't stare, the Virgin of Guadalupe will not be too happy)?
Was it my magnificent pair of earrings?
Yes... had to be the earrings.

Anyway, I'll just end this by saying the bastard better watch his back next time he sees me... boy, does he have a nasty lecture/punch to the face pending.



*Obviously not my real last name.