Impossibly Perfect

Wow.

You know how I hate running my mouth about things because then things only grow worse?

Well, for most of the day, I was away from my computer, away from my email (fuck getting that shit on my phone. I refuse to read my email that way. That would just keep me glued to my phone). I checked my mailbox after I finished my rant here, and I saw an email from the bride.

The names of our partners and our seating chart.

I read my partners name, and did only what any other human would have done: I facebook checked that shit.

Bad idea.

He. Is. Gorgeous.

FUCKING BEAUTIFUL.

A graduate from Columbia... Law.

Did I mention he is fucking gorgeous? His profile photo is this... impossibly perfect candid image of him smiling (open mouth) while looking away.

... ?

Oh god...

This is right about the time where I'm HELLA wishing for that naco dude who only listens to corridos and whose sole aspiration in life is to own a cattle ranch somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I want THAT dude.

The fuck am I supposed to talk about to a beautiful creature who graduated form the university of my dreams?

I am a grouchy med school drop out... who only wants to spend her life writing, painting, and lifting heavy objects... occasionally punching bitches in the face. I curse up a storm... I'm timid to the point where it should be-- and probably is-- considered some sort of disorder... I am bitter and sarcastic and distant. I'm in a life-long battle with depression, struggle I am pretty sure I'm LOSING-- hard. I don't fuck. I don't hook up. When I drink, I tend to cry... or pour my very idiotic heart out... or just fucking fall asleep in hopes of keeping my mouth shut and eyes dry. I don't work. Never have... well, there have been little stints, but they've all ended in a very embarrassing fashion.

I am a mouse who never speaks, only smiles... and spends social interactions praying the night away that NO ONE will notice her and allow her to leave inconspicuously. 

I think this is the time I'm going to go to bed and cry myself to sleep.

Ya vali verga... fuck.

Naaaahvidad

If I tell you guys something, promise not to tell my sister?

I... kinda got a car for Christmas.

We're telling everyone it's my mom's... but uh... my name's on the title and the new car has my plates.

...
She's going to fucking murder me when she finds out.

And oh, yeah, my brother is no longer speaking to me. Looks like my calm demeanor really struck a chord in him... I offended him to a degree I've never experienced.

So, how 'bout them holidays?

Latches

Today's post is brought to you by the letter F... for FUCK!

My hands are red and tingly. I held a screwdriver in my hands with a death grip for four and a half hours, I'm surprised I didn't lose a finger.

After ignoring the fuck out of this beast for a few days,

That glare... SEE why I don't like mornings?

I decided I'd go ahead and put it together.
All was well... up until the LAST step, which is stupid anyway. Apparently I set up the latching mechanism incorrectly, and there's just no fucking way of fixing it. SO... umm, looks like my treadmill WON'T be a space saver... because AnoMALIE's an idiot.

To add insult to injury, I fucked up my dandy nails.

I'd be fine with chips in the polish, since I need to change it up anyway, but I actually broke five nails... and that HURTS.
My hands now look... well, gross.

My right hand is embarrassing to stare at.

They never get that bad even on my WORST lifting days. I'll occasionally break a nail or two after handling the plates like a moron, but never five.
Fuck handiwork. That's some bullshit.

And just for good measure, because I drive on a daily basis, but Wednesday are especially grouchy commutes:

Amen.

Today was not: Funny. Fantastic. Fabulous. Fun. or even Favorable.
Today was: Fucking Frustrating... a Factory Full of Fucksup.
Thank you, and goodnight (maybe a coherent entry will be worked in later tonight... I still feel like writing, but I know I have to cool down a bit).

Edit: Never mind, I'm no longer angry... this just made me smile and lighten up (thanks, Mooney). HA! Memories of being a teenager...

Chest-first

I was seven years old the first time I held a knife to my chest.
I stood in the middle if the empty kitchen, and held the knife directly above the spot on my chest where I would rest my hand each morning during the Pledge of Allegiance.
I knew I wouldn't be strong enough to push it trough, so I though that maybe if I fell on the knife, it would work.
Just as I was seconds away from diving to the floor, chest-first, my mom walked into the kitchen.
***

"You're going to remember those words you just said and they're going to eat away at you once I'm dead!"
That's IF you die before I do... Then MY words are going to haunt YOU.

The countdown is on... and I'm preeeety sure I'm gonna win this one.

rocks

I need a rock. A giant... humongous rock... to hide under.

Always happens. Always fucking happens.

The part that always sucks, and I doubt it'll ever change, is trying to act cool... as if I don't feel shit.
I either do a great fucking job, or people are just... the most horrible creatures to walk the earth.

How many times, and in how many different ways, can a person's heart break?
A question I was never eager to answer, but apparently, someone somewhere chose me at a very early age to be part of the lab mice for this one.
I think, right now, the answer is 17 and six.

I'll never get it-- why it happens and why I put myself in the position to be hurt.
What's that saying... the one Einstein supposedly said, about the definition of insanity being the repetition of an action, with the expectation of getting a different result. Something like that.
Hmm.

No, I'm not intoxicated right now, though I really wish I were. It'd make it so much easier to fall asleep and forget everything.

Mardi-fuckin-Gras!

It's that time of the year again: LENT.
It begins tomorrow with Ash Wednesday.
Today, of course, is the day of drunken debauchery, aka Mardi Gras.
I'm not participating in the debauchery, however, since my health hasn't been the greatest lately (words I thought I'd be muttering MUCH later in life, but uh... looks like 26 was late enough. Fuck).
Instead, I'm sitting here wondering what the hell I'm going to give up.
I haven't had the BEST record when it comes to this 40 days/40 nights business. My vices are STRONG... although I don't have many.

1. I don't have much of a drinking problem, so giving that shit up isn't that difficult. 
I haven't had a beer in... umm... a couple of months. I do, however, drink a fair amount of hard liquor. Vodka, tequila, and scotch are... well, let's just say I won't turn it down whenever someone offers me something along those lines (I WILL turn down brandy. That bullshit gives me the worst hangover imaginable. I don't like wine or champagne, either, so... eh).
I WOULD give up liquor, but I have to think about the April 2nd wedding... and I already promised a few family members and friends to join them in the celebratory drinking. A drunken AnoMALIE is somewhat coveted by that side of the family, only because they have never really seen me drunk... just buzzed... and when buzzed, I'm pretty fucking social, so they enjoy that. I've agreed to appease the masses so they quit bugging me about it for a while.

2. I don't do drugs.
I've never done any drug. Well, I HAVE almost OD'd on NyQuil... but does that really count? I was sick... and couldn't think clearly, so I went ahead and did it. I was also hooked on sniffing those sharpies back in the day... the dry erase markers or whatever. I'll admit to liking that back in 5th grade.
But I've never smoked weed... although I have been present multiple times while others smoke, and my cousin used to be a big time seller. I was in fourth grade when his kids showed us giant cans full of weed. That was memorable.
Anyway, since I haven't even tried an easy-peasy drug like weed, I certainly haven't tried hard shit like crack or heroin. Coke I'm not interested. That fucking stupid drug wrecked Hometown and my childhood friends, so I have ZERO interest in the piece of shit.
So... giving up drugs is stupid... since I never started, and I never will try it. There goes that vice.

3. I don't smoke.
Don't get me started on this one. I fucking HATE IT. 'nuf said.

4. I don't fuck.
How can I give up carnal pleasures when I don't participate in this either? AnoMALIE, YOU'RE BORING! I can't complain of the itch for a quickie like many of my friends... I frankly don't give a shit about it... so... I can't say I need to give this up. Maybe I should start? HA. NOT.

5. I don't eat fast food.
I gave this up a few years ago... and I did it for a number of years. Now, it's not like I don't eat it at ALL.  On occasion, I'll crave an In-N-Out burger and go ahead and get one... or maybe something from Arby's (yes, I'm 50 years old)... or Buffalo Wild Wings to sober up. But for the most part, I don't eat the fast food. Useless to give it up when I don't care much for it.

I have a rough time coming up with my lent list... until I accept that I'm not perfect, and that I do have some pretty mean vices.

1. I swear... not like a sailor... but like a possessed demon.
I can't help it. It's TERRIBLE. I know. I've tried giving up this stupid vice since... was it 7th grade? Something like that. And each time, I break it within MINUTES. I'm in the church parking lot with the ash cross still on my forehead and I'm already cussing out the dumb animals (i.e. people) who won't get out of my motherfucking way! Before I drove, I'd be fighting with Rafa for flicking my ear on the way to our car... stuff like that.
I've had plenty of guys tell me "there is nothing uglier than a girl with a dirty mouth," and each time, my response is "Does it look like I give a FUCK what you think? You weakass dickface." Well, that last part I'll change up a bit, but seriously, I really don't care what those pussies think.
When I DO get upset is when someone brings up the fact that people use curse words because they lack an advanced vocabulary. It's kind of true. I've tried that thing where you interchange the cuss word with a real word... and it was HARD. It's not hard because I don't know words (I have great vocab skill. My AP exams and SAT proved this point, only to have both the MCAT and GRE back me up on this), it's hard because I can't think up the words fast enough. Often times when I cuss, it's because I suffer a paper cut (just today, I got THREE. What kind of shit is that?) and it's A LOT easier to scream "SHIT!" or "FUUUUUUCK!!!" instead of sitting there and thinking of polite things to say, when all I really want to do is burn down the entire rainforest for being responsible for stupid injury-inflicting paper.
Also, I DETEST using the weak words like "darn!" "shoot!" or "bologna!" Use the real word: Damn! Shit! Bullshit! Or nothing at all.
Word I DO use is "Ouch!" but that's because it's a legit interjection to denote pain.
ANYWAY. I do feel bad about others thinking I'm some neanderthal when I go on my cussing rampages. I wreck the good, smart girl image I originally give off... and that's kind of a bummer.
I could do without cursing so much... even in my writing (a tear rolled down my cheek as I wrote that. It's like my soul is getting ripped out. I'm being sarcastic).

2. I really, really, REALLY like cheese.
It's my life. Ok, not that intense, but it does make me happy. My diet probably consists of maybe... 50% cheese? I don't know... but I'm pretty sure I'd starve to death if cheese were unavailable in my house.
I see this as a vice because I really do exaggerate in my ingestion of this... delicious dairy product.
Now, I could give up dairy entirely, but that would be unhealthy. I'm a girl. I need my calcium and vitamin D. Plus, I'm not intolerant, so I'm scared if I stopped ingesting ALL dairy, I'd acquire some sort of intolerance. Milk intolerance = DEATH for me.
BUT, I have to take this out. I need to let go of... this wonderful creation. It wreaks the most devastating havoc on my diet, and I accept it.

3. I'm really sarcastic.
I love sarcasm... a lot... but many people are confused/insulted/irritated/etc by it. It has caused me numerous headaches with family/friends/acquaintances, because I'm starting to get to that point where the sarcasm-sincerity line is getting blurred.
What would my life be without the sarcasm (besides Emo and lame)?

There are a few more, but I don't want to depress myself any further.
Point is:
I'm giving up cussing, for the billionth time.
I'm giving up cheese, for the first time.
And
I'm giving up sarcasm, for the LAST time.

I fear I'll be a very frustrated AnoMALIE... especially since I promised to not even write cuss words (this makes me very, very sad).
I won't even say "bitch."
Or "ass" (this one feels like I've been kidney punched).

Also, I'll have my nails nicely manicured at all times.
Just never again this color:

Heroes in a half-shell... TURTLE POWER!
Oddly enough, I was NOT a ninja assassin after trying this color.
(especially not w/those wrists of an 8-year-old ballerina)
But I did look radioactive.

My apologies if the next 40 days will be packed with boredom... depression... and... retardedness (is that a real word? Guess what? I DON'T GIVE A FUUUUUCK!).
Puta madre, que chingados estoy haciendo?! Soy una PENDEEEEEEJAAAAA!
Alright. I'm done with the cuss words.
(lucky for me, it starts tomorrow... had it started today, I would have suffered a heart-attack with that Barcelona-Arsenal UCL game. I was battling with the fact that I love Fabregas... but I ADORE Barcelona... and I hate Van Persie-- his game, that is. As a person, he's quite sweet. The red card, the own-goal, my fucking asshole Madrista friends... I was NOT a nice girl today. The victory? I only got NASTIER. I can't watch soccer without cussing and flicking a few people off)

Apologize to who?

Jesus Christ. 

I officially give up on SPEAKING... or communicating, more like it.

I can't say one fucking thing without someone getting their panties in a knot and causing drama.

This time I have this whole zodiac brouhaha to thank.

Me, being the sarcastic girl I am, posted it on Facebook (the root of my motherfucking problems)... "freaking out." It was OOZING sarcasm. Of course, since too many people don't bother to understand that about me... because all they get is the quiet AnoMALIE who sits at family get-togethers, staring at her phone... or the fucking table cloth of the table I'm forced to sit at for these godforsaken parties. They don't understand that half of what I say is drenched in sarcasm, thanks to the twenty-whatever years I've been forced into being an observer rather than a participant in their tiny little world. I see things, and I exaggerate. 

Yes, I am "entertained" by astrology... but come on. It gives me adjectives I often lack in my repertoire.

I came home tonight to a load of pretentious updates and comments (that I deleted, of course) about how stupid/ignorant people (and I) are for liking astrology (one of these coming from a pizza delivery guy. Which probably pissed me off MOST. This guy thinks he's SO smart, yet his dumbass never had the drive, determination, or dedication to finish a motherfucking semester of community college. Get the fuck out of here trying to scold me, you fucking quitter) and blah blah blah.

Wow really? People are really worried about their zodiac signs changing? First of all it didn't change and second of all there are other major worries in this world! 'Come on maaaaan!

-THANKKK YOUUUUU! Holy fuck! There r more important things in life!

Pause.

We're gonna play this? You suuuuuure?

Ok. 

First, I DO care about other shit in this world. I DO read the news. I DO post about it. But guess what? People DON'T want to hear it. I get the whole "That's toooooo depressing" bullshit. So how the fuck can anyone try to be "worldly" and talk about the horrific floods in Australia (just today I read the story about that boy who gave up his life for his little brother. That made me cry), the incessant narco wars in Mexico (today, I read about this horrible situation that went down on the 28 of December near Hometown, where 60 masked gunmen terrorized an entire town, killed a man, and torched the homes/cars of the townspeople. The people were forced to retreat to the fucking mountains to be saved from the mayhem. News of this didn't break until yesterday. Did you know that, oh Mighty Erudite?), or the tragedy in Arizona (I read about that as well), if too many fucking pansies don't want to be made aware of the misery in the world?

Two: I AM A FUCKING SCIENTIST. The degree hanging in my living room says so. I was subjugated to countless science classes since middle school. I breathed science for way too many years of my life. Don't YOU (pizza maker. Wannabe hustler. Sneaker head. Wannabe-lawyer. Stay-at-home-dad. Strip club bartender) try to patronize/chastise me and talk about "real" science, because I will school the SHIT out of you. Suck. My. Dick.

Three: I AM SARCASTIC! SARCASM! You know who complains about sarcasm? Assholes who are too stupid to understand it... or don't know how to pick up context clues (like the overuse of punctuation marks or eeeeeeeelooooongaaaateeeeedddd words, or preposterous scenarios: "You'd eat babies?!" No, you FUCK! It's called satire! Don't read too deeply into it).

The bomb exploded once I took to my twitter page. 

Me: I love the ppl trying to talk down to me bc of my zodiac post. 1. I have a BIOLOGY degree. 2. I'm sarcastic. Go condescend someone else.

Him: If you even dream of beating me you'd better wake up and apologize.

OH. HELL. NO.

People know how I feel about apologies.

I don't take those shits lightly.

And to demand one form me?

OHHHHHH NOHHHH (there I go with the elongated words. This time I'm not being sarcastic, just furious and loud). NO. NO. NO.

Not gonna happen, son (I've taken on his tone of voice. This is his speak, just FYI).

This guy turns everything into a competition. His entire family does. We've been made aware of various occasions of some of their shit-talking (like: his dad went around telling everybody the only reason my brother joined the army was so that his college tuition could get paid... because we could never afford it on our own. That entire family talked shit about my bro over how "Stupid" he was for joining the military. This guy's brother tried snaking Alo from my brother one summer... and talked mad shit about him to her "Rafa's... so immature. He acts like a boy, not a man." And now with their new house, someone commented on their marble floors, being the opposite color of ours--they have white, we have black-- and he quickly mentioned that ours was laid shitty/shitty condition. Someone once mentioned how Shittalker Dad had a similar truck to MY dad. He quickly dismissed Dad's as shitty because it "made too much noise". It's a diesel engine, you fuck, of course it makes noise. I could go on, but I'm only inciting my own anger now). They turn everything into the one-upping game... even when we AREN'T TRYING. We're just living our life, so we just shrug it off.

SO, I was NEVER trying to "beat" you. I was just saying it like it is: Boy, if you're going to try to talk down to me for "freaking out" over a fucking zodiac change, don't waste your breath. I was joking... and I don't let this shit rule me... I FOLLOW REAL SCIENCE, and if you were in the least informed about me, YOU'D PROBABLY KNOW THAT.

Now shut the fuck up and-- if you're standing-- find yourself a nice place to sit as you wait for my "apology," 'cause that shit ain't EVER COMING. 

ESPECIALLY when you take photos like this: 

What's wrong? WHERE DO I START?!

P.S. My dog is infinitely times cuter/more badass than yours. Uh-oh... did I just agree to this competition? Oooooooh! I think I just did!

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.

Her-Ps

Of fucking course I wake up with a cold sore smack-dab in the middle of my bastard bottom lip.
Fuck, maaaaan!

I'd like to take this moment to thank my brother: Hey, keep making out with sloppy bitches in bars, I don't care... just QUIT DRINKING OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE'S WATER BOTTLES!

I guess shit could be worse... I could have suffered this outbreak on Tuesday... which... is probably why I'm suffering from this outbreak in the first place.
As if that's not enough, because we all know Life goes a little overboard when it decides to dick around with me, I have a huge pimple on the right side of my jawline. It's magnificent.

I can already imagine what my life will be like if I do go to grad school.

Someone just shoot me already.

I'll pass

I was supposed to be in San Francisco by now.
This weekend was going to be epic: six girls, three boys in the city, club hopping with a local DJ who knows the Golden State Warriors, a suite in the city... and getting trashed.
And damn MGH was finally going to be legal to party with the crew.
Then he went off and fucked it all up, getting serious with a girl (that wasn't me. Because we all know I'm fucking awesome and I don't make pussies out of my boyfriends as is custom).

I've tried, so damn hard, to remain friends with MGH, but it's too difficult.
Often times, I have to fight the urge to talk to him. Skype, MSN messenger, AIM, and FBchat are off-limits, because I don't want to bump into him.
This lead me to decide against San Francisco for this weekend, even if I did promise to go, back in February.

I don't want to stay at MGH's house and make nice with his new girl. I don't want to hear him talk about her, and I don't want to hear his family talk about her either.
She's so sweet! She's so funny!
Umm.. no... no she's not. She's an idiot. She might be "sweet" but she borderlines on imbecilic. And as for her sense of humor... it's obnoxious.
"You guys are jerks!"
You consider that the next Tina Fey?

However, nothing bugs me more, than her pea-sized brain. My eyes bleed each time I see her fuck up the words "your" and "you're," and don't get me started on the "there, their, and they're" (My favorite, no, more like, the thing I hate most, is when she comments on his page: "your amazing!" Bitch... come on! YOU + ARE, make it a contraction, you get YOU'RE. P.S. That's the best you can do? Really? You say that to a friend after they sign up for a marathon, when your mom cooks you your favorite meal... when your puppy learns to sit... when a kindergartener learns to color inside the lines... etc).

I could sit here and hate on the girl for days, but where will that get me?
She won, I lost. I wasted 3 years of my life trying to get what she acquired in a matter of a week: MGH. It's easy for me to hate.

So, I'd like to take this moment to thank MGH, for getting himself an illiterate, obnoxious girlfriend with the figure of an uncooked Chinese noodle, the brain of a goldfish, flowing "strawberry blond" Cocker Spaniel locks, and the gums of a 90-year-old chain smoking grandma (he could have at least chosen a pretty girl. I'd probably high five him if his new chick had some sort of killer attribute... but this, man, it makes it difficult not to be bitter. My only guess is that she gives some amazing head).
Thanks for fucking up my weekend, prick.

Breaks

I drive a Toyota...
is it mean of me to mess around with other drivers and act like I can't control my car's breaks?

I'm a ray of motherfucking sunshine!!!