Pegasus

A little taste of the ADD disaster that is my brain:

Let's starts with the double-entendre that dominates my life. That whole issue where I say shit that could be misinterpreted... or could serve as quite the euphemism. Today I seemed to be on fire when it came to this.

1.
Sometimes, it's unintentional, and I catch myself before making the situation any more awkward. Such an example occurred this morning, as I prepared my breakfast.
I love avocados, right? So the other day, I purchase two magnificently soft, huge, perfectly green avocados. Super tasty. Problem with that is that my dad eats avocados like normal people eat apples. I wish I were kidding.
Anyway, due to my dad's insatiable voracity for avocados, whenever I find some bomb avocados, I have to hide them if I plan on tasting them.
As I searched for the avocado half (which I had hidden in the fridge the night before) Mom walked into the kitchen. She was standing directly behind me as I joyfully exclaimed:
"My avocado is UNTOUCHED!"
Followed by an "Ew..." after my subconscious chimed "It suuure is, you nun."
Mom: What?
Me: Nnnnnnothing. I'm just really happy to see that avocado.

2.
Foot-in-mouth/double-enendre/AnoMALIE-ism part two took place at the gym.
This time around, it only served to prove I often need others to point out my... poor wording. Gentle teasing is the preferred method of choice.

My trainer caught me doing some extra arm stretches, slightly grimacing each time I'd pet my rotator-cuff.

Trainer: What's up with your arm?

Me: Too much violent hooking.
Trainer: Listen, I hear times are tough, but there are other ways to make money, young lady...

Me: Huh? ... Wait... Arg! Too easy...
Trainer: ... in that field of work...
Me: DAMN. IT!

3.
I can't place all blame on my family/friends/acquaintances for fucking up my sentences. I'm largely to blame because... well, I'm super prone to being purposely vulgar.

I was talking to my sis this afternoon about an inside joke I have with Kelley, about being "flavorologists." I was telling her about our talk about visiting a candy factory. Then we got into talking about working for said company.

Sis: You'd be like... fucking Willy Wonka!

Me: Only if his dick is scrumdiddlyumptious.
Sis: I didn't mean it like that, you fucking pervert.

And now for some images:

Haz caso, con un chingado! 

Seriously have not laughed so fucking hard in a minute. My brain seems to think in Spanish when I'm really upset... like when friends have plans sans moi (only happened to me once, in Mexico... but I have seen this happen to OTHER people... and let me tell you... fucking Meme is on point).

I had an unhealthy fixation with horses when I was in elementary school. I'd jot those motherfuckers all over the place. I'd find excuses to draw horses on book reports, chalkboards, Valentine cards, the inside of my mother's Jeep... everything.
I'd go to the library and ALWAYS check out the same thick book on horses. A giant green book filled with horse photos and their stats.
I checked that book out EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK. From first grade, until fourth grade--when the book suddenly went "missing."
Christ. I had a problem.
Anyway, the book helped me learn how to draw... horses.

The moment I saw "Pegasus" as an option on Draw Something, I jumped on that train, just to make sure my horse-drawing game was still on point.
Took me thirty seconds to draw... and while the wing is shite, that horse is pretty boss... thank you very much.


My brain's all over the place, folks.

License to *fill in blank*

So... I am now an old lady.

God... that's so upsetting.
At least now, they won't give me so much shit at concerts/clubs thinking I have some sort of fake ID.

Let's inspect the differences between young, teenaged AnoMALIE (Why do I suddenly feel sad realizing I'm no longer a teen?!?!) up top, and the OLD, 4-years later, college graduate AnoMALIE to your right:

- The hair.
Boy... was it messed up for the '04 picture!
I was so frazzled... so irritated.
Ok, I'll confess... I failed the first time I tried... and this second time I was so nervous... and disheartened, that I didn't give a shit about the way my hair looked for this damn test (I thought I was going to fail, anyway).
The first time, I had some paranoid, 9-months pregnant cabrona that was so fucking panic-y.

Bitch, if you're so worried about getting in a wreck, why the fuck are you still doing this job? Why don't you play it safe and stay at a counter? Not in a car with... teenaged drivers. You only make us increasingly nervous with the added fear of killing an unborn baby, Einsten.

She failed EVERYONE that day. How do I know? The lady that passed me told me so.

"You shouldn't feel so bad. Lindsay failed everyone"
Who the fuck is Lindsay?
"...the lady who failed you yesterday."
"Oh... the lady who said I supposedly hit the barrel with my back tire?"
"Yeah, she's just been a little nervous... and grumpy. But she had her baby today, so everything's going to go back to normal."

Yeah... right.

Anyway... my hair was nasty that day... I passed... so I had to grin and bear it (funny, since in the picture, my face was so... relieved-looking with the weakest smiled imaginable) for the cameraman.
The new one though... my hair looks pimp. It's sleek and nice, if only it werent for that pesky little strand of bangs that didn't want to cooperate and decided to slide forward.

- The eyebrows.
Goodness... the atrocity that those '04 eyebrows were!
Don't they make me look mean? Sheesh.
My '08 brows though... I'm pretty happy with them. They make me look calm-ish, right?
Good thing they weren't my usual thick ones, huh, Travelindin? I threaded them thin just for you (I lie, the lady that did them yesterday was so intimidating, I just said "Uhh... just... whatever you think looks nice..." and she did that. Mom's SO happy with them... like if they were on her own face).

- My ears
Both pictures... they're still fucked up and hella retarded looking.
I hate my ears.

- The camera's proximity to my face
Why the hell is it so zoomed in on the new one? Ew. Too. Much. Face.

- The restrictions
2004 AnoMALIE had no restrictions... now... I'm a foureyes that has a restriction. Shit. I'm old.


What I realized while standing in line at the DMV, is that each time I'm going to have to renew my picture, it'll be in the winter... so I'll have some bulky ass sweater on. Booo!
Also... I was tempted to change my height to 5'9"... just for shits and giggles... because we all know AnoMALIE is but a measly 5'8," I'm such a dwarf.

But hey... at least I now have an old-person driver's license... all horizontal like... and without that damn yellow bar that screams at people "I'm not legally allowed to consume alcohol yet!!"

This is the life.

***

To celebrate me waking up early to go to the DMV, I went to work with Mom.
From there, we went to buy suff for work at Sam's Club... and got to enjoy the perks of being a "Business Member."
You get to shop a whopping 3 hours before the general plebes... or I mean, members.
It's eerily quiet in there with only business owners crawling all over the place.

Anyway, when we got back to work to stock the place up with our newly purchased items, Mom freaks out:
"I forgot the Ding Dongs, AnoMALIE! I forgot the Ding Dongs!!"
"Oh..."
"How could we forget about the Ding Dongs, AnoMALIE?"
"I don't know... I wouldn't know anything about ding dongs..."

I didn't pay attention to what I had said... until my 28-year-old cousin, who works there, started to laugh (I told you I was gifted when it came to that type of shit).

I guess I win "understatement of the month" award.
(although... histologically/biologically, I know plenty about "ding dongs." Some of the proper tissue names still reverberate in my head from time to time... out of the blue, obviously... but still. I know plenty... just not... in that other sense)

La Señora Que Enseña

(Phone rings while I'm trying to watch my recorded episode of Wednesday's America's Next Top Model)

Me: Hello? (Damn... No! Right when Enrique's coming on... hurry up!!)
Unidentified Female: Hello?
Me: Umm... who is this?
UF: (utters monosyllabic word I can't pick up on)
Me: Excuse me?
UF: (utters the word again...)
Me: ??!!??
(15 seconds of silence)
Me: O...k...
Unidentified Female IDIOT: ...
Me: (internally) Fucking moron... I hate you (spoken) How may I help you?
UFI: Umm... is there a... lady... that.... she... the lady...
Me: (internally) If you were in my face right now, I'd fucking punch you right about now.
UFI: The lady teaches... she teaches... umm...
Me: She teaches catechism at St. Anne?!? (internally) fuck, was it that difficult, imbecile?!
UFI: Yes... she teaches.
Me: No, she's not here right now. (internally) now STFU and call later.
UFI: Oh... when can I... like... call again?
Me: (internally) Never. Ever. In your lifetime, moron. (spoken) After 2.
(click)

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I no longer teach catechism.
Some people should just... never reproduce. Seriously.

What pissed me off worse was that we were speaking Spanish and she still couldn't communicate properly. My mom's been teaching her beast of a child since September and she still doesn't get my mom's name down.
My mom's name is the same as the little Hispanic explorer girl on Nickelodeon. How can you not remember that?!

When Mom came home I told her the story:

Me: Y luego me dice (then she tell me),
Está la señora que enseña... que enseña... (is the lady that teaches... that teaches...)
Mom: Well, did you tell her I'm not an exhibitionist??

Funny how Spanish words have double meanings that make no sense in English ("enseña" can be "teach" or "shows" as in "the lady that shows" and you know how that Mexican double entendre works. "Ladies that show..." are what the older crowd use to refer to strippers. Niiice).
I get my double entendre prowess from Mom...
Haha.

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.