right foot, left foot

I am more than ready to throw in the towel.
I am overwhelmed as fuck.

But I have chosen not to freak out.
Well... you know... being ME, I did have a mini freak out session yesterday, and I'm sort of working through a sort-of panic-attack as I type this (hours ago, my chest felt like it was going to explode, now it's just a tiny sense of heaviness where I have to breathe slowly).

My bestie's words from the other night (we were discussing someone who is hellbent on convincing herself that her life is the absolute fucking worst... which it is not) stuck with me:
"forced to put one foot in front of the other."
As tough as shit seems to be... as overwhelming as it may seem at the moment, you just have to force yourself to move forward... one step at a time.

There are currently so many things being chucked at me-- lost social security card, fucked up driver's license renewal, fucked up face, Lenten promises that are fucking with my mood, racist-ass presumptuous voters who ARE ALSO MY NEIGHBORS at an even more fucked up sham of a caucus, pending payment for an expensive birthday-getaway... the list goes on. SO many fucking stressors are currently building up to fuck me up.

I could sit in my room, lay in bed, heaving my head off...
Or I can put one fucking foot in front of the other and detangle this bullshit that is... life. Approach life one problem at a time-- solve each piece of shit to the best of my ability.

So today, I decided to forgo the process for the reissuing of my SS card, and instead went to renew my driver's license-- RealID be damned.
Twenty-three dollars down the drain, but one fucking less headache to deal with (I looked like fucking trash... the DMV was a giant mess... my fucking number was skipped within THIRTY SECONDS of being called...nearly failing the vision portion of my renewal--I'm fucking blind, guys! My right eye is a mess-- but unexpectedly a really cute, YOUNG, UNLV student was immediately smitten with my disheveled-looking-ass, so, in AnoMALIELAND, it all balanced out).
I'll have to get a new license that meets federal standards... but that's until October of 2020... so WHO GIVES A FUCK? I'll more than likely look like complete garbage on ALL OF MY IDs, but who gives a fuck?! That's just the fucking stage of life I'm at... oh well.

Ok, so ONE problem down... many more to go.
Next up is paying my birthday trip bullshit tomorrow. It's via a method I've never done before... so... I'm anxious AS FUCK, because I'm paranoid about everything and anything that involves spending more than $50.
The day after that is my trip to the Social Security offices.

How did I get here, man? It's like I'm fucking 70 years old.

Take my hand

EVERYTHING in this life comes back to you. Absolutely everything.
Watch who you hurt today, because tomorrow they might be hurting you.

Today has been one of the longest in... a while.

Remember the boys who made my weekend a shit-fest? The elitist Mexican 21 year olds (hmmm... I might have failed to mention their age. But yeah, they're 1990 babies. Something that only added to my frustration because... I don't like younger little pricks clowning on me. I knew how to count, cut, paste, and wipe my own ass by the time they were born... motherfuckers better back the fuck up before they get smacked the fuck up, to quote the late great Tupac).
WELLLLLLLLLLL...
Jesus, God, The Universe... conspired to give me sweet, sweet revenge.

Ok, so maybe not revenge.... but it certainly offered me these kids' heads on a silver platter.

I could have taken the low road, and watched them squirm... or I could have taken the high road and taught them a good lesson, 7th Heaven-style.
Be a vindictive monster-- ANGRomalie-- and exact revenge on these motherfuckers... or... be AnoMALIE-- the real, genuine, sweet AnoMALIE?


If anything can be taken from my upbringing, it's the fact that I was raised to treat others the same way I'd like to be treated: with respect and dignity... and kindness... regardless of their background.
Be of service to my fellow man.
This is largely responsible for so many of my tears. I get so incredibly hurt when I meet people who don't treat me with the same respect as I do. It's probably the most hurtful thing anyone can do to me... hence the hate and violence I then proceed to display.
I always refuse to admit this, because it's painfully true... and I often find it to be a weakness: I'm nurturing AS FUCK. I'm nurturing to the point I'D like to be nurtured. I will hold your fucking hand until you feel safe to walk away... because that's exactly what would comfort me.

I received MGH's distressed phone call at noon, just as I was going out for a jog.
MGH: Hey. How are you?
Me: Hey, man! You back in San Francisco?
MGH: I'm in SFO right now...
Me: Cool. Didn't even text goodbye. That's cool.
MGH: It's been a long weekend... and it just got longer.
Me: What's up?
MGH: Well, back in the room, Fer and *Troll* gave me their passports to keep in my backpack... and when I got home... I realized... I still have their passports. They were supposed to leave this morning.
Me: Veeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrgaaaaaaaaaa!
MGH: What's worse is that they both have to be in school tomorrow. Fer has a presentation due... if he doesn't show up, he fails and has to repeat the whole year.
Me: You have got to be shitting me. That's terrible!
MGH: I feel like shit. I don't know what to do... we all don't know what to do... and I haven't slept since Wednesday. I'm fucked up and so confused right now.
Me: Holy shit. How about Fer and Troll?
MGH: They're panicking. Their entire family's panicking.

That was my chance right there.
Shrug it off with a maniacal laugh and say they deserved every bit of distress they were currently facing... or step up and help out these poor dudes to get them home safe?
Words can't describe how furious... how much I managed to LOATHE Troll in the course of four days. I'd think of him and my stomach would hurt. As a human being, I saw him as valuable as shit. Such a callous, shallow piece of shit.
However... I had to let my rage dissipate. I had to think... with the ruler of my being: my heart.
How would I like to be treated in this situation? I'm stranded in a foreign country... no passport, no phone, no family... no nothing... what do I do?!
Immediately, the nurturing good girl took charge.
I embraced these poor guys and put myself at their service... the same dudes who treated me like a call-girl/taxicab driver/maid/slave/piece of shit days earlier.
My heart couldn't let me throw these fuckers to the wolves, regardless of how shitty they had treated me or how badly they had made me cry. I just had to help.

The most surprised was obviously Little Orphan Annie's Troll Version. The moment I sprang to action, he screamed my name. The same fucking guy who called me "esa" was saying my real name every two seconds.
Yes, Troll, I WILL help you... and FOR FREE, with zero interest besides getting you home safely and in a timely fashion.
I helped them find MGH (because there was a period of three hours where no one couldn't reach him), a place to stay, and a ride (MEEEEEE!).

All this brouhaha... and what made it worth it? The look of relief in their giant, bewildered eyes when they saw me.
They may be 21, they may be on the verge of graduating from college, they may have more money in their bank account than they'll ever be able to spend... but the moment they realized they were passport/visa-less in a foreign country, completely alone, they turned into terrified five year olds lost in a department store.
It's ok, babes, hold my hand, I'll get you out.
And everything was worth it.
I even gave the damn Troll a blank-slate and agreed to befriend him.

Now I just have to get MGH (more on this guy later... after I get decent rest) home tomorrow morning and this weekend will finally go down in the books as "finished."


When I die, I'm definitely getting canonized and becoming the patron saint of the painfully shy, socially awkward, unattractive, potty-mouthed nerdy girls.

Refused to answer

I have a friend who makes me go paralyzed with fear each time she calls. Is that normal?

She's a writer for the local news... on a channel named after an animal... that one.
Each time she contacts me, I nearly piss my pants from the anxiety.
No, not because she has such an "important" job... not because she's married to the "celebrity" that is the weatherman of said local news (last time I hung out with her, she said this, verbatim: I'm going to ask *weathermanhusband* if he's OK with meeting you guys first before bringing him around. Relax, homie... he's not Jake Gyllenhaal... I'm not going to hyperventilate because I met a fucking weatherman. I'm not that enthused by meteorologists... take it down a notch, please)... but because she's batshit crazy.

Now, people might say AnoMALIE, what way is that to express yourself about a "friend?" 
To which I say Dude...  no... this girl... she's hella cool one second, then the next she's threatening to strangle you to death.
I've known her since my middle school years, so I know how rad this girl can be. She's hilarious, she beats me in the sarcasm department, and she's freakin' gorgeous (hey, not that I swing that way, but I call it how I see it. This girl is that type of pretty where she's stunning even without makeup).
I didn't know she was crazy until we were in college and she called my house to chew us (Sis and me) out over us supposedly telling everyone (by "everyone" I mean "her boyfriend") her father was a druglord (yeah, it's that girl). Once we asked around (we had to go to every person involved. And each one gave the same account: THE BITCH IS CRAZY! SHE was the one to say "Oh! It was AnoMALIE and Sister! They've always hated me!" Her boyfriend doesn't even know you guys!), that's when I was made aware of the degree of this girl's mental instability. She's insane.

Anyway, last night I went out without my phone. Once I returned, I saw I had a missed call from InsanePrettyGirl, and worse yet... voicemail from her.
Fuck... what did I do now?
I won't lie, I panicked. I felt as if someone had placed a gun against my back.
I listened to her message, pretty much holding my breath while closing my eyes.
"Hello AnoMALIE, it's InsanePrettyGirl. I'm calling you from my house number, so that must be why this number is unfamiliar to you, and refused to answer. I have a couple of questions to ask you, so I would appreciate it if you could call me back as soon as possible. You can reach me at my house number, *number* or my cell phone number, which is *number*. Thank you."
I leave people messages like "yo, it's AnoMALIE. Hit me up as soon as you get this. K?" and here this girl's sounding like my fucking elementary school principal asking for a parent-teacher conference to discuss my obscene responses to English assignments.

I have her phone numbers... so... the fact that she gave me both was a little intimidating, not to mention the whole "you refusing to answer" thing... she called me ONCE... what the fuck?
Shit must be serious. Oh my God... is she going to sue me for slander or something?

After a couple of deep breaths (and making the sign of the cross a couple of times) I called back.
She wanted information on grad school.

Girl scares me so much, she damn near gives me diabetes.
::shudder::

Anyway, totally off-topic, and to end things on a positive note (that's still sort of... "meh" because regardless, I still detest Argentina): BIG, BIG day for team Barça today :)
Yesssss sirrrrr!
If only Messi were... Mexican or something... shit, even Salvadorian. But alas, gotta take the good with the bad.
Ok, no more soccer talk. I can get annoying with it, just like with my poker talk.
I might as well be a dude sometimes.

Butterflies, my ass!!

With my trip a little over 24 hours away, I find myself:

-Constantly thinking twice about my duffle bag selection (white Burberry duffle bag). Why? Because Ryan was kind enough to introduce me to the term "Chav" (and "Chavette"). Now I constantly wonder... "Will this make me appear too Chavvy when I'm off running around in London? I don't want to befriend Chavs... or be mistaken for one..." Thanks Ryan... thank you very much.

- Worrying about getting question about the copious amounts of junk food in my luggage (You guys, I kid you not, I have about 10 pounds worth.... it makes me think of all those fat camp episodes/movies... and how there's that one little bastard who takes mounds of junk food to sell to the other fat kids... it's so annoying! I feel like damn Cartman right now...)

- Worried about getting mugged by Gypsy kids... I hear they're a major pest.

- paranoid over my recently outted gum that I have stashed in my carry-on, that I also plan on offering to people in case of bad breath (I'm joking).

- worried about dying...

Yeah...
OK...
I should be excited, right?

Then why the fuck am I so... nervous right now?
I'm such a fucking baby.

This just in...

I DON'T WANT TO GROW UP
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(And handing me giant chocolate coins will only strengthen my resistance...)

The month that keeps on sucking

Shit.
Me chingue muy bonito.

Last night I remembered a little fact that my Q had erased from my mind all week:
I fucking hate cell phones!

I caught a glimpse of my phone bill yesterday... and to say I freaked out would be an understatement.

I became so upset, I went to bed early (it wasn't even 12 AM yet).
I just... left the computer... didn't speak a word to anyone... I crawled into bed (in my gym clothes.... how sick) and passed out.

I mistakenly believed the guy at Verizon changed my texting plan to 500 non-IN texts... but he didn't... I have 50. Just fifty.
I passed those fifty a week ago.
Now I'm in the hundreds.

I'm so fucked.
So non-Verizon people... please umm... refrain from texting me until further notice (because if you do text me... you better believe you're getting an angry phone call from yours truly over here... but I don't even know why I mention it here, since the fucking idiot who texts me to say shit like "hey," five minutes later: "Heyyy!!!!!" five minutes later: "What's wrong with you?!" five minutes later: "What the hell, AnoMALIE? Text me back!!!" doesn't even read this. Maybe I should just send him a text saying "Fuck you, you owe me 50 bucks, mother fucker. Oh yeah, quit texting me! You're not IN!").

Man... I hate September.
I'm so dead.
It was nice knowing you, world.
(as morbid as this might be... I'm kind of looking forward to the punishment I'm going to get... I'm just hoping it's not some sort of "I'm so disappointed in you" speech with intermittent Spanish cuss words used in exchange for my name.

"Que te dije, Cabrona?! Que eran un chingo de mentiras y que nos iban a ver la cara! Pero tu de muy mamona te lo crees todo! Chinga'o, como eres pendeja, AnoMALIE!"

Man, those speeches make me cry... but not because they're moving like, say, Sojourner Truth's)

P.S. I also received my credit card statement yesterday... nottttttttttt cool. That also had a lot to do with me crawling into bed and falling asleep instantly.
I'm so dead.
Fuck you, September!

However will I slouch?

This damned injury is still there... making it difficult for me to sit. By difficult, I mean I can't slouch as usual. I must keep an upright position and walk like a stuffy jerk. Good for my posture, not my "cool" status.

Somehow this weekend has spiraled into a crappy one. I thought it'd be a good weekend... packed with fun studying. By fun I mean "useful" and "any" studying.
Instead, by body's had none of that. I've sat at home, gotten my butt massaged, played some dumb game on my cell phone (Chainz in case anyone was wondering... level 27), and gotten hot towel treatments on my lower back... with the occasional burn on the ass (how Bam endured all that branding on his ass for Jackass I haven't a clue).
I also received some "bad" news from my folks. I feel uncomfortable disclosing it... but I'll just leave it at the news being of a somewhat frivolous nature, but still capable of bumming us all out. Stupid city of Las Vegas... and Real Estate agents.

Then came the conversation from hell with an aunt. She made the huge mistake of asking me what I was planning on doing with my Biology degree.
What can you do with that?
I sat in silence for a couple of seconds... trying to come up with the correct terms in Spanish to explain it all. After sitting in silence for a while (not being able to solve the really difficult cell phone game I was playing at the time added to this long pause), and having my 19-year-old cousin get away from her dish washing duty to chime in with a:
Yeah, what are you gonna do?
I shrugged my shoulders and said:
I don't know.
My aunt then added:
Well, I mean, besides teaching, what can you do?
I love this lady, she's great, but when you get into school issues with me, I tend to become rude and bitchy.
I'd never be a teacher. I hate kids, I have no patience with them, and they drive me insane. School drives me insane. I'm dying for it to be over.
Well then, what can you do with a Biology degree?
(Become a circus clown in Colombia that gets shot and killed by a rival gang, then have my death reported on sensationalized Spanish new shows like Primer Impacto... I DON'T KNOW!)
I can...
(Shit... what's the word for research?)
go to medical school-- but I don't want to do that anymore-- become a teacher like you said, I can... I don't know. There's lots of things I can do. I just want to get out right now and then figure it out. I don't know.
(I can be a lame-o who writes Bio textbooks with typos every other word. I can become a "flavorologist" in the Greater Manchester area in England. I can be at the beck and call of someone smarter than me who's doing research on desert tortoises. I can recite to you the different steps involved in the Calvin Cycle... WITH structures. I can travel with the National Geographic channel and help deliver bottled water to the smart geologists. I can do a lot of things, damn it! How do I say it in Spanish! I can help develop dish-washing soap for Palmolive, for Pete's sake!)
My aunt looked at me... my cousin "eh"ed (and continued washing the dishes), and I rolled my eyes and went back to the difficult picture game on my cell phone.
While rolling my eyes at Mom merits a slap on the shoulder from her, I got nothing for doing it to my lovely aunt... just the horrible guilt of knowing I pulled a move "tweens" are best known for.

So yeah... aside from the nice game on my cell phone... I think this blog is what keeps me from bursting out into tears while screaming "My life sucks right now!"
I blame my upcoming twenty-second birthday on the emotional wreckage I am right now.