Spite

Yesterday I experienced another first in my life, and like so many "firsts," it was unpleasant... probably the most unpleasant thing I've gone through lately... more so than the green tortillas fiasco from earlier this month (I mean, the tortilla bag did explicitly mention the use of spinach and "herbs," it was my fault for being so damn optimistic believing such a blend would come together masterfully to produce one awesome, unbelievably healthy tortilla).
This time, it made me upset because:
1) It happened right after I had some really tasty pizza.
2) It interrupted my PBS time!
3) IT CAME IN THE FORM OF CHOCOLATE!!

Yes... someone decided to fuck around with CHOCOLATE and thus... has made me... sort of weary of it from now on.

Ok, so it was a couple of days after Valentine's Day and Chase was kind enough to accompany me on my Duffle Bag Search to Target.
We noticed ALL Valentine's candy was market 90% off (?!?!!) so we made a bee-line for the area.
We purchased some really cute... sort of "angry" chocolate aptly named "Sweetest Revenge," that had some witty stuff... like chocolate band-aids... chocolates with bitter slogans etc.
So I went for the three bars of chocolate that were named "Vengeance: taste the dark side, dark chocolate," "Malice: Savor the taste of sweet revenge, milk chocolate," and "Spite: nibble your way to sweet revenge, spicy chocolate."
Oooo! Spicy Chocolate? Is that like... with cinnamon or something?

I hadn't opened the box... I was sort of just letting it sit there, in all its bitter glory, until yesterday when I was in the mood for tasting this... "Spicy Chocolate."
I popped a small piece in as I sat to watch my beloved PBS Masterpiece Theater part 3 of "Pride and Prejudice" (I'm now madly in love with Colin Firth... hot man, who cares if he's 25 years older than me).
At first... it was a shock...
Holy cow! It's like... cayenne pepper!!!
Then I was a little smitten...
Mmmm... how can hot and sweet make such an interesting flavor? Yumm... lemmy eat half the bar...
not even half-way through, I was absolutely sick.
Get this shit out of my mouth!!!!!!!!!

I started freaking once I noticed my gag reflex was acting up... then the world started to spin a little... then I knew I wasn't going to hold up.
I ran to the kitchen (come on now, I didn't want to miss any part of this last section of Pride and Prejudice... especially now that the resolution was eminent, I had been watching this shit for three weeks straight, two hours at a time just for that part!).
Hey Mom... ever tasted chocolate with chile in it?
I tried making Mom taste the chocolate... but she's too wise.
No... and I don't want to.
Ok, it's going in the trash.
Wait...
(Why does she do that? Each time we mention something's going in the trash, she can't stand the thought and that ends up being the ultimate temptation for her. Weirdo)
I'm gonna barf!
Ok... throw it away.
I started drinking water... washing my mouth out... but I just couldn't hold it in.

I was so angry because of the pizza thing.
I've vomited three times after eating pizza before... in all cases, I find myself loathing the damn thing for years because it brings back traumatic my-head's-in-the-toilet memories.
Do you know how much it sucks to hate pizza?

The stupid taste of the spicy chocolate wouldn't leave... and now I had... well, vomit to worry about.
I brushed my teeth... a lot... with tons of mouth wash... then I drank some more water... then I tried to forget about the experience as I watched the rest of my PBS while feeling sorry for msyelf (which I had to catch the rerun at 1 in the morning because of the parts I missed with this whole spicy chocolate saga).

In my life, I've had the misfortune of tasting some very horrific things:
1) A fly (stupid accident involving a small hose and a game I played with Older Brother in Mexico)
2) Half a cockroach (it was traumatizing! It somehow got stuck in my quesadilla back when we lived in the ghetto... I didn't see it stuck in the cheese, I bit into my food... felt a crunch, looked at my food, then panicked and puked after seeing half of the cockroach staring back at me--I ate the front end-- I didn't eat quesadillas for years)
3) Month old curdled milk (ACCIDENTALLY! I was about 10. The damn store--once again, in the ghetto-- hadn't changed the gallon, we didn't notice it when we purchased the gallon in a hurry... I didn't notice as I drank straight out the gallon... then I cried upon getting the after-taste... and then seeing the state the milk was in the gallon. I was traumatized into checking expiration dates from that moment forward. I'm pretty OCD about expiration dates now... I also don't drink out of the gallon as much)
4) Tripe (Ok, so people actually enjoy this stuff in their menudo. I, however, HATE it. The texture of the thing is awful).

Spicy Chocolate has officially bumped Tripe from the "Gag as I even think about it" spot.

How dare they destroy chocolate like that?

Spiteful in-fucking-deed!

Eau de Gummi Bear

Don't ever let Little Sister go to the store to buy you body wash with the only instruction being "Just get me some of that Tone body wash... the one with sugar in it."

Yes, they make some body wash that has sugar in it... it serves as some sort of exfoliate (exfoliant?).
I actually love the stuff... it smells good... and it actually kind of scrubs without hurting you (unless you have an open wound... I found that out the hard way one time, and I actually screamed while in the shower... not a girly scream... but a pain scream as if a bear were gnawing off my leg).

Well, since I had no time to go to the store, Little Sister asked me what I needed, and I reminded her of the body wash.

She came home a couple of hours later and showed me her find.

Little Sister: Ok, so I know you use the green one... but this orange one smelled so good to me! and the name's pretty cool... I wanna see if it works. Tell me if it works.
Me: Cool... whatever... thanks.

Well, I ran out of the green body wash the other day and decided to use the orange one today.

Everything was fine and dandy until I began to apply the body wash.

What the fuck is that? Shit... it's... so... strong... but... must... continue... or... I'll be late...

Point being: I now smell like a gummy bear thanks to hopping in the shower last minute and not having any back up REAGULAR soap to wash up with.

Why do I smell like a gummy bear?
I checked out the bottle... and here's the 411:

Name of the product:
Tahitian Vanilla and Orchid (with 7 moisturizing botanicals)

Ok... 7 moisturizing botanicals... let's check those out:
The 7 moisturizing botanicals include: (they only list of 3 out of 7 with a short description of the 3)

Soybean: Nutrient rich and soothing.
Jojoba: Conditions and Moisturizes.
Marshmallow: Softens and soothes.

Marshmallow! Why do I feel like a s'more all of a sudden?

Had you ever heard of such a thing? Marshmallow in body wash? And it softens and soothes?
Well I'll be damned.
I'm sure it attracts an assload of mosquitoes, too.

Now when I turn to look over my shoulder, I'm confused by the sudden smell of candy... I swear it's the scent of fresh gummies (I imagine this is what the Gummiberry Juice smelled liked on that one Disney show, Gummi Bears, to tell you the truth).

Why hello there, bare... wonderful... sweet shoulder... I'm sure... it's ok if I... just lick you... a little... real quick... I'll stop... I swear... soon...

Man, who the hell invented this, and why doesn't it come with a warning?

25 Years

Ever since Grandpa died, I've entered this "I love Mexican candy, gimme, gimme, gimme!" phase.

Well, on Saturday we visited my aunt who had just returned from her three week stay in Mexico (which reminds me... I have to write an affidavit. That blows).
What did Auntie bring back for us?
JAMONCILLO!

Now, I'm not a huge fan.
When it comes to goat's milk... eh... I kind of... not avoid it... but I prefer cow milk, to tell you the truth.

Whenever I'm in Mexico, I'll probably have a tiny one inch cube of the candy, and then forget it exists.
I don't blame the goat's milk... just the overall consistency of the candy. It's brittle but gooey in a strange way... it makes my palate go "What the fuck is this?"

But oddly enough, I was ecstatic Auntie had brought us some Jamoncillo.
However, when we were going to bring some home, Mom told Auntie we just wanted an eighth of the block, since at the household, only Dad and I eat Jamoncillo when the feeling strikes.

So I ate my half of the eight of Jamoncillo that Saturday (I shared with Little Sister).
Mom set Dad's Jamoncillo in a cupboard... since dad bulldozes through candy like it's his job, Mom wanted to make sure he didn't eat the candy until Sunday afternoon when he wouldn't keep her up at night complaining "Woman, I don't feel too good... my stomach hurts..."

Well, things went down Sunday morning.
Mom wanted to go eat at a restaurant, Dad said:

I don't want to spend money at *restaurant A* or money at *restaurant B* and especially no money at *restaurant C* What's so wrong with a home cooked meal?

This sent Mom over the edge.
Mom hates cooking (something she acquired in her youth, since her Dad thought girls were only good for cooking and cleaning and yada yada yada and because of that, didn't let her go to school like she had originally wanted. I've explained this before, I think).
So what did Mom do?
She went into Little Sister's room where I was studying while watching some extreme sport's show, and handed me the remaining eighth of Jamoncillo.

I ate a little... then put it aside.
Mom was still standing in the room... eventually lying next to me... so I asked:

Me: Umm... is this for me?
Mom: Yes. Eat it all.
Me: I thought it was for Dad...
Mom: No. It's not.
Me: That's not what you said yesterday...

(she's not looking at me... just BMXer Dave Mirra.)

Me: (internally) I knew she liked Bicycles... but damn. (spoken) Are you mad at Dad?
Mom: Yes. (still looking at the television)
Me: Because he didn't take you out to dinner?
Mom: Yes. He wants me to cook! To cook!! I bet he doesn't remember tomorrow's our anniversary.
Me: Oh... ok... should I tell him?
Mom: No!! If he remembers, good for him. If he doesn't... pshhh.

Mom left to the living room to watch her Univision... and she left me the jamoncillo.
I didn't touch it for the rest of the day... because I don't love the damn thing.

Then comes today.
I swore Pops was going to forget the anniversary thing... but as soon as I stepped in the house from school, here came dad with a load of groceries.

Me: Dad! You remembered!
Dad: What?
Me: Your 25th wedding anniversary!
Dad: Huh?
Me: (internally) Fuck! You mean you just went grocery shopping after Mom and I did it yesterday?? Tell me you're joking!
Dad: Oh! Yeah... I'm cooking your mom a lobster dinner tonight. It's better than getting ripped off at some restaurant.
Me: (internally) sick. (spoken) That's cool. 25 years!! (internally) You better let that shit stick in your head!! 25 years today, got it? Say it!!

So I left the kitchen area and ran to Little Sister's room where I left the jamoncillo yesterday.

Fuck... Mom's gonna cheer up and give the jamoncillo to Dad!!

What did I do?
I ate that bitch!

Now my stomach hurts.
Lesson learned: Don't be a greedy bastard!

I meant the candy, damn it!

In true AnoMALIE fashion, let's stick to yesterday's topic:

Mexicans are gifted when it comes to double entendre... aka being perverted.It's a freakin' gift most of us are born with, and if we work it, we can become experts in the area.

Well, I'm not an expert, and most of the time, my double entendre is one hundred percent accidental.
Like with what happened to me a couple of minutes ago.
This is what happens when a Latin-American candy (similar to taffy, but healthier, believe it or not) has the same name as the Spanish slang term for vagina:

Mom: Que es eso en tu boca? (What's that in your mouth?)
Me: Panocha! (Pussy, or you know, the candy's name)
(Mom slaps my mouth, not hard, but it was a little jarring)
Mom: Malcriada! (ummm, I guess it could be "bad girl")
Me: What?! (I stick out my tongue to show the candy)

Stupid ass candy... I never liked it until recently when Mom came back from Mexico and all of a sudden I found myself addicted to the damn thing. If only I didn't feel so dirty saying the name... or you know, they changed it to some sort of Willy Wonka-like name.

No one ever feels bad saying "Damn, I love Laffy-Taffy!"
Hold on, wait... I take that back.

Thank you very much, D4L and Mexican-American-ness, for making me sound like a dirty, bi-sexual whore while talking about candy.