JESSI!

I'm an awesome sister.

It may not be apparent, but I actually enjoy traveling with my sister.
We fight like cats and dogs, but we tend to collect funny memories.
This time, it was no different.

As we were waiting for our flight to depart from Vegas, Sister and I noticed this one boy eerily staring at her. He eventually moved his way to sit directly in front of D.
He did not say a word, he would just stare with a smile on his face.
D: I feel like I should... shake his hand... or give him an autograph. What the fuck?
We lost him once we boarded the plane, since Sis and I were the last ones to board... and we we split into sitting in the front between a group of old men.
Sister sat between the two more normal gentlemen, she forced me to sit between the most loquacious, annoying old men on the plane. Add to that, these men had TERRIBLE breath.
Why the fuck don't you guys sit next to each other so I don't have to sit here between you two to suffer through your halitosis-laden conversation?

After nearly three hours of holding in my vomit, the plane stopped in St. Louis, where everyone but about six of us got off. As we waited for the new group of people to board the plane, D moved to the seat next to me and we decided to eat one of our dog biscuits for "lunch."
As we were shamefully eating our banana-nut dog biscuits, the creeper reappeared... and took the seat next to D.

He did not say a word. He just did his creepy stare... where he invades your space... not saying a word.
After D very uncomfortably faced me, she mouthed off "What the fuck?" and that's where my giggle-fest began.
We tried texting each other, but that went to shit because this guy then proceeded to impose himself on us so he could read our phones. Even I was affected in this one.
I updated my status and even twitter... and I'm sure he read it all.

After everyone boarded, that's when he decided to speak up.
He was... strange.
Sister would answer his questions, and as she was doing that, I busted out a book so I could act busy while I was actually laughing my ass off.
At one point, he asked for her name, and she said it was Jessica.

Ok, so we finally arrive in Chicago.
He mirrors all of our movements... so we decide to jump into the girl's bathroom.
The place was packed, and once we were done doing our thing, we headed outside, thinking the coast was clear.
WELL...
He was waiting by the escalator to baggage claim.
"JESSI!"
My sister did not say a word.
Once we were at baggage claim, he stood next to D and once again, called her "Jessi," but this time, he tried going in for a hug.
That was finally where Sister stopped being nice and she looked him up and down and walked away.
"This bitch... taking the liberty to call me by my imaginary nickname... pshhh!"

I have not laughed so hard in a while.
Chicago is FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.
82 and sunny... I love it.

Tumblin' Dice

Since I was such a fucking ray of sunshine in my last post, AND I'm missing a post thanks to yesterday's technical difficulties (and also because it goes along with today's date, Friday the 13th. OoOooO!), I'll add another short entry:

My phone isn't too fancy.
Yes, I can get on-line and comment on people's FB pages, but I can't upload photos or watch videos.
I get notifications and all that junk, too.
But the only things it's really good for is Tweeting (and boy, do I abuse the privilege).
I can get apps... but it costs me a pretty penny.
I can get games... but that costs me an even more ridiculous amount of pennies (obviously my feelings towards this is "Fuck you, I ain't getting any games then, assholes! I'll just... play catch with my fucking phone whenever conversations suck or some other awkward situation arises").

My phone DID come with one game.
No, not solitaire, or other form of card game.
No, not some sort of "Bounce Out"-styled game.
Nope... not even a fucking updated version of "snake."
My phone came with a game called "Tumbling Dice."
What's that? Two 3D dice I can make tumble around--as if they're trapped in my phone-- and watch as they come to a stop.

Rafa: What the hell is this? Some App for an impromptu game of Craps?
Me: I don't know... how the hell do you play Craps?

Rafa tried showing me how to play Craps, but my attention span sucks... especially when a boring ass game that only crack addicts play in the street corners of Detroit is involved (yeah, too much Chappelle's Show).
I've been playing a different game with it which, if you ask me, is akin to a bastard Ouija Board... ok, more like the Magic 8 Ball.
Whenever I'm bored, I'll bust out my phone and I'll ask yes or no questions. If the final number is six or less, the answer is "no." The closer the number is to two, the bigger "HELL NO!" that it is.
Numbers seven to twelve mean "yes." Twelve is "YES, it's fucking OBVIOUS! Why'd you even ask that stupid question?" while seven is a "Meh... I guess you could consider it a 'yes'" (in my head, my possessions are always mean to me).
The reason I associate it with a ouija board instead of a regular M8B, is because of the creepy freakin' nature of the responses.
The phone's like Lassie... you know, that whole "What is it girl? Timmy? Timmy's stuck in the well? TIMMY'S STUCK IN THE WELL?!" thing. It eggs me on to ask more elaborate questions.

The answers it has given me have been... about 98 percent correct.
I'll start off with lame questions... then it'll get all intense. If I then ask a question that concerns the future... I get freaked out, 'cause I don't want that shit to happen.
Gah! Imbecile! Why'd you even ask that if you didn't want to hear the answer? The phone has spoken. It's final. Resistance is futile!

Anyway, I hadn't played that game in over six months... no, more. I last played it in Chicago, where everything the phone responded came out to be true.

So I put that power away... until today.
This time around, I started with asking questions concerning the past. It asserted every time.
I then proceeded to ask questions about the future... and I didn't like most of the answers. I asked the questions that bugged me the most a couple of times, at random times, and I'd get the same response (of course, varying in degree... except for two questions, those came out with the same intensity... which made me stop playing, because I'm a chicken).

Point of this post? To say I have a creepy-ass application that must be possessed or something.
AT&T... is this how you keep people on your network? Black magic?
I'm getting a new phone as soon as October rolls around... and I'm definitely leaving that bastard app alone until then (I can't erase it off my phone. WHAT KIND OF JOKE IS THIS?!).

Murderous

Nothing lets you know you're going to have a shitty day quite like a spider bite at nine in the morning.

I woke up by a sharp stinging sensation a little above my left knee. My hand was on its way to the knee before I knew what the hell was going on. My body seems to know when it's going to have to handle stupid arachnids with a taste for AnoMALIE blood.
Anyway, once my hand reached for my knee, I felt the little motherfucker under my pants, biting me.
I crushed the little bastard for a good minute... just grinding its mushy body between my fingers and pajama pants... hoping he wouldn't spring back into action... how can I be sure he hasn't been exposed to some awesome mutagen?
Fuck... do I really want to see what my leg looks like?
After the minute was up, I decided I had to check out the damage... and remove those fucking pants. I mean, what if that damn spider had his spider friends... or family... crawling all over the pants, getting ready to avenge their loved one's death?
I looked, and not only was there one bite... I had TWO. The larger bite being the one where I managed to murder the stupid intruder.

Someone has to explain this phenomenon to me.
WHY in the hell am I such spider bait? Am I destined to be the female version of Spiderman (SpiderWOman... yeah, ok)?
Mom gets all angry at me Do your fucking bed, AnoMALIE! Shake the fucking thing once in a while! But it's like... MOM! I clean my fucking covers so often, most of the designs on the sheets and pillow cases are ERASED! What more can I do? Douse myself in RAID every night? Grandpa did that once... and we all know how that turned out. Plus... it has been proven repeatedly that regardless of what house I sleep at, or what bed I'm in/on... if there's a fucking spider anywhere in the vicinity, the bitch finds me and bites me. Actually, I don't have to be sleeping... I can be sitting down, enjoying a night of COD or whatever the fuck, and next thing anyone knows, I'm yelping and reaching for my leg... or arm... or neck... Where the FUCK did that spider come from?! Clean your fucking house, pig! (JK, I never say that. I just yelp, cuss a little, then proceed with the mindless activity)

Those two bites mark the fourth on THAT leg in the last six months (yeah, I keep track).

The day only improved once I had an argument over contraceptives with Mom.
I mentioned how this new priest of ours is... he's a funny man... but he is often SO wrong on the things he tells the congregation. I told her how I damn near spoke up last night over the misinformation he was giving the congregation.
Last week he elicited the same reaction from me, when his sermon revolved around respecting our elders/parents. I'm not against respecting my elders/parents, that's a trait that was beaten into me as a kid (literally)... my problem arose when he mentioned how things go sour when we turn against our parents.
"There we have what is going on with Egypt. The president was... like their father... for so long... and then his children turned on him... and now... we have... all that... problem."
Me: Their DAD?! Ok, he was kinda like YOU (Mom), but that motherfucker was a DICTATOR! Not a DAD! What is this man telling these people?!
Mom: Good thing you didn't speak up! He knows you're my daughter.

Anyway, this time the issue was the ten commandments.
I was fine with what he was saying. He was on "Thou shall not kill."
He was mentioning how we not only kill people in the obvious bang-bang, stab-stab way... but that we can also kill people with some of the vicious things we may say about them.
Ok, good point. Keep going. I need to be out by 6:30 on the dot, sir.
Then he went on to how we kill people with contraceptives.
How WOMEN kill with their contraceptives (not MEN. He made no mention of condoms. So no enlightenment there. But of course, since this guy is A TAD BIT misogynistic, I'm sure he'd work that into being a woman's fault somehow).
It's obvious God isn't happy with this... since women get... cancers... bleed to death... all of that, all thanks to taking those contraceptives.
What kind of contraceptive is he talking about? Asbestos-coated wire hangers?! 
Those pills KILL any child the woman may be carrying in her womb! She is KILLING HER CHILD! She forces the child out of her!

I've had this argument with people before... my own family members. They don't seem to comprehend the basics of the Pill and proceed to divulge misinformation as truth.
But this priest... he takes the cake!
He was on this very retarded diatribe against the basics of MENSTRUATION, that at one point (once my head started to hurt from shaking in disapproval for so long and so violently) I distracted myself by counting how many of MY "children" I have "murdered."
In this priest's eyes, I have killed 164 of my babies... I'm actually killing one right now.
No, I've never taken the morning after pill (which is NOT murder, if you ask me)... much less had an actual abortion (hell, I haven't even FUCKED and I'm already a killer? I just can't fucking win!). No, no, this man was making women believe EACH TIME we menstruate, we kill one of our potential kids.
I sat there calculating how many times I've menstruated in my life (TMI? I don't give a fuck! I'm making a point here!), and came up with my exact number.
Eat your heart out, Ted Bundy! I beat you by at least sixty.
Anyway, I argued over how WRONG it is of this guy, in so much power, to freak women out like that.
Mom told me I should watch my mouth... 'cause I was borderline blaspheming.
Tsk-tsk.
Like I've said before, I love my religion... when SMART people rule over me... but other times... it just makes me want to rip my hair out... and claw certain people's eyes out... regardless of what title they may hold (Oh man... I'm so sorry, God... but sometimes people make me SO angry!)

Believe it or not, my day got EVEN BETTER!
Mom told me who the mystery killer from yesterday's murder (or was it two days ago?) of Ivan. Remember this guy? Bingo. There you go. You have your killer.
...
....
Proves my point that I'm not a coldhearted cunt. My strong dislike/repulsion for this guy was justified (and not just because he killed puppies for fun).
I'm glad I only called him a retard that one time... "Fucking Asshole!" might have gotten me a new corbata (slitting of the throat, with the victim's tongue being pulled out of the slit--made to resemble a men's tie--while he/she bleeds to death, remember?).

This also proves that only fucking PSYCHOS are attracted to me.
... And people wonder why I refuse to get in a relationship... pfffffft!

What IS up?

Sister has been going out every night since Thursday.
I'd be cool with it if she would return home sober.
Actually, I'd be cool with her drunkenness if she 1) had someone else drive her home, and 2) stopped thinking she was such a badass.

She's having some sort of issue with her ex. He's still going around asking about her, and then proceeds to proclaim her the stalker... so she is going out and getting drunk to prove... she's fine without him? I don't know... she thinks like a girl... I don't know much about that, since I only think like an idiot.

Anyway, I've bumped into her a couple of times after she returns home. It's easy to tell when she's had one too many vodka tonics (such a pussy drink! But whatever) because (besides her fucking incessant "I'm good," "Deuces buddy," and the overload of Rihanna/Kanye/Jay-Z-lyric-related tweets. She then acts surprised when I call her out on it. WE FOLLOW EACH OTHER ON TWITTER, GENIUS!) she becomes hellbent on talking to me. And she turns into a chola.

Sister: So I called out ArgentinianFriend for talking to ExBoyfriend about me.
Me: Oh yeah? What happened? (rolling my eyes. Like I want to hear this at three in the morning)
Sister's tone changes. It gets... scratchy... deeper.
Sister: I told her she better not fucking have my name drop out of her mouth whenever she's dealing with him.
Me: How'd she react? What did she do?
Sister: Nothing, 'cause she knows what's up.
(^ Like, seriously? You only say that when you're a street-fighter with a winning record)
Me: Knows what's up? Calm down, hoodrat. What IS up? What would you do?
Sister half-closes her eyes, raises her chin, and winks at me.
Me: I'm not going to fight her for you, dude. You fucking little chola. "Knows what's up"... who the hell are you talking to, blood?
(back in elementary... actually, for her entire life, she has relied on me to fight her fights. She starts them, and since she's such a horrible fighter, she tags me in to take over the battle. Which I usually DO... but  it doesn't mean I like it. I just hate seeing a bruised Sister a lot more)

She said that last night.
Then she updated her status this morning:
Keep my name out of your mouth, mind your own business, and just please stop obsessing over things that don't matter or concern you. Thanks!
Her friend then commented:
I suppose you want me to take the hidden cameras out of your bedroom and to stop peeking in the window at night as well huh? So demanding.

So it looks like we now know who is responsible for this:

OF COURSE this would be outside of MY window.

Me: Tell that motherfucker he has the wrong fucking window.

I live with a chola suspected of being a stalker... who has a misinformed stalker herself. Nice.
(I'm totally joking, obviously. But that random handprint really IS there. I don't know what the fuck is up with that)

Where the hell are MY body guards?

Uh-oh..."Too Late" made it on the shuffle... you know what that means! Repeat X's 5!

Anyway, let's forget about my ADD and continue.

I now know how Paris and Lindsay feel.
No, I was not caught flashing my moneymaker while getting out of a car (although... I did get out of my sister's car quite ungracefully today. I suck at getting out of cars... I need SUV's or trucks in order to make a semi-decent exit where I don't trip over my legs), I did, however, get my picture taken by some weirdo while driving back home today. Paparazzi, I tell you, what a damn hassle.

It's not like I don't get attention while driving... and it's not like I get a lot, either. But I'm not usually a willing participant in "car-flirting," (or any type of flirting for that matter. I really suck at it).

I enjoy the occasional wave from a beautiful stranger (but of course, not the one finger salute), I don't even mind if the person is ugly if they give me the "spirit finger" wave. That's the wave where they make their fingers move in a... wave like fashion. Those spirit finger waves sure make me happy even coming from construction workers.
Waves= cool.
USOEO= not so cool.
I've also gotten the universal sign of "eating out" (USOEO) from a paisano once. You know... pointer and middle fingers making a V, tongue in the middle moving side to side.

WTF? Is that your way of signaling I have a flat or something? Wait... is he... ahh! My virgin eyes!

Instead of getting angry, though, I just kind of... laughed it off. Does that trick usually work on chicks? I don't even think porn stars dig that sign. Why don't you just flash me "The Shocker" next time?

Then today just set a new bar for "weirdo-ness" in the flirting realm.

My friend Lucky Soprano had told me a story where some stranger took a picture of her from the opposite side of the bar. However, Lucky Soprano caught the dude and gave him the finger just as he took the picture. I just remember thinking: "Now why the fuck would any idiot do that shit? Are they that desperate to make people believe they know hot girls?"

Apparently, there are idiots like that.

I was at a stop light, where traffic usually backs up because it has one lane for turning left, one for the right, and one to go straight just as you get off a tiny birdge. I was in the middle lane, and this dude was in the left. He had been tailgating me since I had entered the 215.
Whoa, Smooth Operator, what the hell do you think you're doing?
I thought he was just being your typical jackass... since I refuse to believe anyone's trying to hit on me.
He moved his car so that our bodies could be parallel, and when I looked over, I got hardcore eye-contact.
Eww... pinche naco hasta la madre. No manches, güey!
Whenever I'm under theses circumstances, rather than giving them an "Ew, leave me the fuck alone, you fucking creep" look, I tend to look away (sure, my shy nature has a lot to do with it. But I'm also kind of polite to the poor dudes that only want to look at a girl. I think of my brother, so I'm never as rude as I wish I could be). I decided to do just that with this guy.
I was looking down writing a text message (something I typically do with a smile on my face) as I waited for the light to turn green, when a flash scared the hell out of me.
I looked over to the dude, and bam... there he was, holding a digital camera... and smiling at me.
Oh helllllllll nahhhhhhh! WTF was that?!

See, Lucky Soprano knows how to handle that kind of attention... she's a clubber... a hot-tempered Irish-Italian hottie. She can handle that shit.
I'm a foulmouthed-good-girl nerd... I just kind of sit there and take it with my mouth open (no... I didn't mean it like that).

I scowled at the guy... and yes... my mouth was open from my surprise at the new level of creepiness I had just experienced.
I mouthed off "What the hell was that?" and he smiled as he drove away.

That shit better not make it on Myspace... he didn't give me enough time to get in my Emo Pose... or the one Chase names after me where I'm looking up at invisble planes. I was looking down, smiling, behind the wheel of a large vehicle, and writing a text message.
Shit... I hope he sent it to like... the DMV or something.

"This bitch drives while texting!"
Instead of
"Check out the chick I beat off to before going to bed each night because I'm a desperate Naco de la pinche selva Chiapaneca que no puede ni con vacas!"

Eww, eww, eww.
That's it... from now on I'm driving with a bag over my head... of course, with cut out eye-holes.