Girls aren't all bad

What was I doing when the motherfucking Cubs broke the curse and won the World Series on Wednesday night?
Angrily screaming "A MOTHERFUCKER BETTER BE DEAD!" as I sat in stand-still traffic for nearly an hour.

The kickoff to the long-weekend girl's getaway to Palm Springs started rough, being stuck in a horrible traffic jam in the most crucial moments of the World Series. Had it not been for that dickhead wrecking his car on a post, I would have made it to Kelley's place in time to catch at least the last three innings of the World Series ('cause who the fuck wants to sit through an entire game?). Instead, I very frustratedly sat in the passenger seat of my friend's car, reloading my google app, eating my nails, pulling my hair, and grunting like an animal.
But that was the only bump on the road (har-har... pun-y. I write like shit, get over it), and no, no dead bodies, just a dumb motherfucker running into a post in his stupid convertible... probably watching the game on his phone... but he lived.

I complain a lot about females and how I don't tend to get along with them, but this weekend was fantastic... though one female was driving me crazy at times... and she was not Kelley... or her pets. Now that I think about it, I hung out with pure estrogen this weekend.
And I could not have had a better time (well, maybe if I had gone to an amusement park-- because I get obnoxiously happy when I risk my life). I laughed so hard, I spit a mouth-full of water on my pants... I hadn't done that in years.

I was surrounded by animals... I hadn't done that in a minute either. I tried my hardest to win the approval of a cat, and I sure won it. That shit had me feeling all sorts of Snow White-y... a swollen Snow White due to her cat allergy she refuses to acknowledge or respect. I will NOT refuse to pet a friendly kitty, sinuses and itchy eyes be damned. Little homegirl even slept next to me on my final night, occasionally hugging my left leg (sure, her claws would "gently" wake me sometimes... but what if she was having a nightmare?).

So... yeah... girls getaway to the desert, night drives through Joshua Tree National Park, shopping goodass deals, eating burgers every afternoon, and listening to "oldies" rock... while going home to a couple of dogs and a cat, made me forget how heartbroken and disappointed I was in humanity.

But I'm sure I'll discuss my disappointment in the very near future.

Why'd you do that?

It took me a nice nap to recover from the hurt of my Saturday night.
I napped for four hours, woke up at 7 in the morning, and rolled out to church... where I served the purpose of a sad, lonely zombie for an hour.

I then sped home to catch the final games of the Confederation's Cup.
Soccer has always managed to get my mind off issues... especially when the sport's lovers in my life and I get to spend time chatting and analyzing the situations.
It's fantastic clarity... it helps ground me... and remember that I do matter in the lives of some people... that I AM part of circles.

By the time night rolled by, I was fine... fixing a nightclub outing for Darcy and Baby Bennet for Monday night.
I hardly ask for favors... because it makes me feel stupid... but since it was Twiggy, she was... almost eager to help me out.
When she saw I wasn't adding my name to the list, she was compelled to ask what the deal was (come on, it's Twiggy... she HAS to know everything).
I told her the deal, and asked her if she still thought it was a good idea to add my name.
Noooo! AnoMALIE, I recommend you do not go tomorrow. It's too hard... I could not deal with that.
See, Boom! That's what I thought.
I know this girl often drives me bananas, and I talk shit about her and her wonky ways... but she HAS always had this weird admiration for me. She has NEVER talked ill about me (of my sister on the other hand, well... ha! We know about that shit)... so I do have love for her... and some trust.
So... she proceeded to help me out... more than I thought she would.
*Fiance* said to just go and say you're on HIS list... everything is taken care of. If you end up feeling up for joining them, you'll have no problem ;)

I relayed the message to Darcy, and when asked if I wasn't going to join them after all, I remembered Baby Bennet asking me to please join them at the club as I hastily said goodbye to her that horrible Saturday night.
I'm a girl of my word... and Baby Bennet is cool... and adding an extra girl to a party always helps.
So I agreed to go.

True to my soul, I hit the club looking like Elvira... prepared for... for... the worst.
Get them in, toast, jet.
I imagined the entire night to be awkward... but it was not. At least not for me.
At one point in the night, there was so much people traffic in the hallway, BB and I had to stop and wait for the oncoming traffic to pass before following Darcy.
As I momentarily distracted myself with a glowstick, I was caught off-guard by the most violent push to my right shoulder... damn near giving me whiplash (it did give me a bruise).
"DON'T BLOCK THE HALLWAY!!"
I was so shocked to see a fucking idiot MAN i.e. security guard had manhandled me so viciously, I was silent... on the verge of tears, actually.
Does this motherfucker think I'm a transvestite? Some MAN to push me like that?! WHAT THE FUCK?!
And that's when I see Baby Bennet's little figure turn around and scream "HEY! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"
I had to think of how angry I was in order to keep from crying.
She's defending me... oh my....
I was so touched, I don't know how I didn't just lose my composure and start sobbing like a baby.

I stayed the remainder of time Darcy and Baby Bennet remained at the club... no more manhandling... just people watching and chatting.

As the elevator doors opened to their floor of the parking garage, I wished Baby Bennet a safe, and fun remainder of visit to the States.
She frowned a little, I hugged her, and waved goodbye as she stood outside the elevator... waving as the doors closed.

Girl, I got your back for life. Thank you.

Baby Bennet

Noooo! AnoMALIE, I recommend you do not go tomorrow. It's too hard... I could not deal with that.
WHY?!
No.
::Sigh::
The heart wants what the heart wants.

Emotional break down, or acceptance... or a combination?
I'm not trying to be a martyr, it's just the way I am-- I try to reason shit out and often, sympathize.
I'm not brown-nosing, I find no use in falsely flattering anyone. When I compliment, I mean it... wholeheartedly... there's no hidden intent behind it.
When I don't give a shit, I don't even bother. No, I won't just be quiet-- I often care when I'm quiet-- but I WILL pick up and leave... just so I don't have to deal.

This entry was bound to happen, I mean, I've known since December.
Darcy and his girl.
Darcy has a girl, and once again, it isn't me.
Raised your hand if you're surprised. Ha.

Trust me, I've cried this one out numerous times by now.
I could get into the cruel specifics behind the tears... but that just makes me angry now.
Just know that for the last six months, a particular asshole has been making me cry thanks to his insensitive, inconsiderate comments. Trying to make me "snap out of it" or whatever.

When I learned that Darcy would be returning home for a break, I was happy... then of course, that certain idiot very abruptly and crudely informed me Darcy would be returning with his girl... a wife, to be exact. Boy... did I cry!

My trip abroad helped clear my mind... for the most part, since there will always be something to remind me of Darcy... every day... but at least I was smiling and laughing and exploring.

And then I returned to face the harsh reality.
The two weeks leading to Darcy's return were spent crying. Every single day. Crying and dreading the moment I'd have to see... both of them. Crying and dreading and lamenting... and trying to carry on like a normal person.
Cry it all out now... so when you have to face them, you'll be normal... get it all out now.
This, of course, is something I could have completely avoided in the eyes of many people... it's not like I was being forced to see them. It was entirely my choice to be exposed to this truth... this fact.
But you see... he's my friend. We are friends. It's not his fault he can't like me in the sense I wish he did. And I hadn't seen him in a year. And he's my friend. I appreciate him.

And then I met her.
I had to laugh to myself... at the coincidences in life-- her name happens to be the same name as one of the Bennet sister's on Pride and Prejudice. Of course Life would work out this way. Silly Life.

Often I hear girls hate on their "rivals"-- it's one of the reasons I tend to avoid girls. The cattiness is despicable, but so fucking contagious. I'm not immune to cattiness, even if naturally I'm chill... and kind until the person provides me with a reason NOT to be.
I could easily have taken a hostile stance... sat there and hated on everything from her choice in clothing, hairstyle, lifestyle... what else do broads hate on each other on? The way we speak? The way we apply makeup? Oh yeah, the way we SMILE?
Or I could have completely ignored her... I don't know this bitch. I don't have to talk to her! I find MANY girls apply this trick to me.
OR I could have just gone psycho... just found any dumb excuse to start brawling... girls are known to do that too.
I could have also just sat there and busted out crying... very AnoMALIE-esque.

But NO. I'm AnoMALIE. I'm FRIENDLY. And I'm nice. And I'm kind. And I will do anything in my power to make others feel comfortable, especially friends. I will do everything in my power to make someone happy, ESPECIALLY a friend... because that's how I wish others would treat me.
The way I see things, in order for Darcy to like a girl enough to bring her around to meet his friends and family, she has to be dope. She has to be cool. She has to be worth it.
That's too long of a haul to bring a mean bitch.

And so... I embraced her like I would a long lost friend... not literally... I think I shook her hand, if I'm not mistaken... but I treated her like I treat... Darcy.
With all the pain in my heart--because it's so much easier to just hate someone without knowing them, especially a girl chosen over you-- I allowed myself to see the vault of chill vibes she was bringing... and it was worth it.
I'm sure this would have never happened with a Latina... because we can sense another woman interested in our dude from a mile away... like some fucking sharks sensing blood from an injured animal, we maul that bitch... homegirl would have ripped me to shreds.
But no, "BabyBennet" was far cooler than I could have imagined. She was funny, smart, humble, nice, and down to try anything. She was not needy... or snarky... or possessive... she was chill.
She gained my respect and friendship.

She's amazing. And you look happy. Good job. That makes me happy. Honestly.

Why I should never answer the phone

I'm making my max effort at being pleasant and forgiving.
I'm trying so very hard to NOT talk shit and just get over the drama.
The trashtalking homegirls have really gotten under my skin, but a few weeks ago, I decided to clean the slate. I made the resolution to let it go.
This past weekend, with the death of my uncle, I've spent time with my dad's side of the family... the ladies who are selling those magical pills I was accused of using. After seeing them, I finally understood why so many people have made the assumption that I did the same thing as these ladies.
This has only facilitated my resolution of forgiving and moving the fuck on.

Today, I was quick to answer my phone after seeing it was an unknown number. I thought it was someone asking for a reference, so I didn't think twice about answering.
"Hello! This is *trashtalkingchick*!"
Yeah... it was THE girl. The girl I was getting ready to throw down with this May.
Fuck.... FUCK! What the... fuck!
Me: Hey! How are you?!
And we talked.
She was inviting me to the bachelorette party... since she was put in charge. Of course.
Afterward, she asked me for Mooney's number, which I refused to give out, since I personally loathe people giving away my number so free. I told her I'd let Mooney know, since I see her regularly.
She then grumbled "And Lau... if YOU want to."
If I want to? THE FUCK? She's YOUR cousin... you have her number... call HER. Grow up. Shit... you have a mouth-- a BIG one... use it.
I just giggled and agreed.

She stayed on the line, not wanting to hang up. She asked me how I was doing THREE times. She then asked me if I had any questions. Then she said it was good to hear I was good.
I was just standing completely frozen in my hallway, quietly wondering what her problem was.
I tried ending the conversation twice, but she didn't want to kill it.

I don't feel she wanted to fight or argue... but the opposite. I think she wanted to clear the air, which honestly, she doesn't need to... I probably do, if anything. I should probably just let her know that I heard some of the claims she was making, which admittedly might have become distorted as they made their way down the grapevine, so I hold no grudge. I WAS angry, very angry, but I let it go. And that I apologize for purposely making her feel bad... because I know I DID actively seek to piss her off and offend her.
But I didn't say anything. I just answered her questions as nicely, as friendly as possible, and promised to forward her message.

HOWEVER this truce, this desire to be civil, is being threatened, since Lau isn't as forgiving. She HATES this girl.
I love Lau, she's my homie... but I can't join her in this hatred... this unforgiving hate. She might be able to handle it, but not I. Hate really is toxic to me... and it makes me a horrible person, and it... it overpowers me. MY "horrible person" is a truly HORRIBLE person... I have too many places to draw from, and I'm sure few people know that-- because apparently I've done a great job at making my life seem like an enchanted fairytale. When I set my mind to verbally/physically hurt someone, I don't just hurt, I obliterate. Once I turn this version on, it becomes nearly impossible to turn it off until I dismantle my target.
Some folk think it's amusing, but the entire time, my fucking soul is hurting... because I don't WANT to be terrible, I just AM.
I don't like that version of AnoMALIE. At all. It embarrasses me. It drains me.
I don't know if everyone has this problem, but due to this, I always try to mediate.
My mediating doesn't always work... often I just gain two enemies with a mutual hatred of ME.

In this instance, I'm trying not to partake in the trashtalking... but I also don't want Lau to feel like an outcast. I just want her to move on... to forget about everything... or just be apathetic to this cousin of hers.
We'll never again be a group of happy friends, but we can all at least be civil to one another.

I hate this. 

Yeah, no, you're dead

Ok, I think I recovered.

Last night was painful. I very mistakenly believed I was fine to go out, considering I had spent the majority of the week in bed rest, drinking plenty of fluids and eating nothing but chicken.
I came home last night and my body was like "Whoa, bitch! Hold up! What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck did you think you were doing? Fuck you! Here, have a little bit of THIS!" and I woke up with an even runnier nose than the previous night, a phlegmy cough, and a serious case of violent, phlegmy sneezing. Sexy, I know.

I'm pretty pissed about this, since last night I was like... I was... hmm... what was I?
We were a total of four girls... and seven guys.
The entire time, my head was in the clouds, in a bad way. I was high as fuck... from medication and just the flu itself.
I resist medication for as long as humanly possible... so my sensitivity is pretty fucking ridiculous. The moment I feel acetaminophen or... or anything, really, I feel that shit. Often times, I go down like a motherfucking rhino getting shot by a tranquilizer dart... other times I just get loopy and distracted. Yesterday, I went loopy.

I was trying to be considerate to the kids, I definitely didn't want to get them sick, so I took a seat at the corner of their hotel room, and politely, quietly listened to their hilarious conversations.
Mario's girl was fucking great. I finally had time to hang out with her and crack jokes, and as suspected, we mesh like a couple of long-lost twins.
The other two girls I noticed were obviously all about ONE boy, let's call him G.
I've known G for about five years now, however, I had't seen him in three years, so... he didn't recognize me initially. HOWEVER, once he realized I was that chubby chick he last saw in '10, he was all smiles and talkative... you know, like when you RECOGNIZE AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE after years of not speaking.
IMMEDIATELY I caught the frost from the two girl. I died to them the moment I made G giggle with a crack at the expense of his soccer team.
I further fucked up my case with these chicks when I noted how they were holding a pow wow on the bed on the complete opposite side of the room, as ALL the dudes crowded around me to talk about video games.
I had the full attention of every guy in the room... motherfucking EERIEST THING I've ever experienced.
For the most part, I'd be conflicted over which dude's face to look at as the conversation was flowing... it felt like Story Time in kindergarten, where I was the teacher and all the fucking kids were simultaneously, eagerly asking questions... except for those three scary little fuckers in the back of class, scheming amongst themselves and occasionally having one take a second to look you directly in the eyes.
When I'd make eye contact with one of the girls, I'd smile my best "I come in peace!" smile. Yeah, no, I was definitely dead to them.

So, here I had the boys thinking I was cool and funny, the girls (except for good ol' Heather) thinking I was a fucking slutty cunt, all piled on top of me being high on medication and influenza, unable to prove I was a nice girl... because I could hardly handle keeping my eyes open, much less act like a normal person.
Lovely Friday night, if you ask me. It's no wonder I came home at 5 in the morning.
That's sarcasm, by the way.

Girls are never going to accept me as one of their own. Damn it.

10 years later

D went back to Chicago today.

These last few days have been nothing short of amazing.
I've laughed a lot, I've spent much time with many family members... who have all been sweet to me.

I'm in the highest spirits because I spent last night hanging out and laughing with my high school friends. We had a mini ten-year reunion.
While my bestie was missing because she had to work, only two other girls from my close-knit circle of friends from high school were missing.
We hit Triple 7, where we sat at the bar and proceeded to catch up over some beers... like the fucking adults we've suddenly become.
I had not seen any of these girls in well over 7 years, since I did see them at some point in college.
While I was probably the least successful, and clearly the saddest, it was still ok. They were all very sweet, and within ten minutes we were back to laughing uncontrollably at our witty remarks... just like we would when we'd be at our high school cafeteria table.
It was exactly that: the reunion of our high school cafeteria table, our roles unchanged.
The coolest part was that at NO TIME did we badmouth anyone, or gossip. We were supportive of each other, and talked about... life. It was so weird, especially since I've rarely been in the presence of a girl herd where gossip was not the focal point.

All I could think of was that damn movie "Now and Then."
It's hard to believe it's been TEN YEARS since we last did all this... it's stranger that we haven't aged. We look pretty fucking great for 27/28 year olds... I guess that's the secret to smart, dorky girls-- we don't age, we're fuckin' Benjamin Buttons!
I'm also the ex-Fat Girl of the bunch. That chick who spent her teens fat and quiet... you don't see her for years then suddenly BAM! Look at her, she looks normal!
I'm the ex-fat-girl of the movie... creepy. (They always end up being the chicks who never find love regardless of how attractive they may be once thin. I now understand why those chicks never find love-- we're too mentally FUCKED UP)

Numerous times throughout the night, someone in the group would make a comment along the lines of "Are you SURE you're not a writer?" "You're definitely a writer..."
They also told me my affinity for writing definitely made sense-- in hindsight. They told me my comedic timing and wording was unique, something Kelley has been telling me for nearly a decade (!). I may be a quiet, reserved girl, but when I'm comfortable and I have a deep appreciation of you, I will be the funniest, wittiest person in a room; it's my way of thanking you-- making you laugh... it fills my heart.

I may not have many female friends, but the ones I do have are remarkable human beings.
I'm a happy girl.

Girl Crush

"You're totally my girl-crush! ... in a non-sexual way."
I nearly choked on my spit from giggling so hard after a friend told me that last night.

I don't think I have a "normal" girl-crush... it's just Gwen Stefani. I can't believe a fellow girl finds me cool enough to mark me as one of her girl-crushes... since I have such terrible luck with girls who hate me without even knowing me.

Maybe if I keep this whole "being pleasant" resolution of mine, less girls will be publicly embarrassing/attacking/abusing me.

... a girl can dream, right?

Unobtainable

The feelings that hurt the most,
the emotions that sting most,
are those that are absurd;
the longing for impossible things,
precisely because they are impossible;
nostalgia for what never was;
the desire for what could have been;
regret over not being someone else;
dissatisfaction with the world's existence.
All these half-tones of the soul's consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.
-Fernando Pessoa

The night of the fireworks, as I sat on that cold, concrete bench, I found myself talking to a girl for much longer than I wanted.
I was sitting outside because Godson and I hadn't made it to church on time, and we were unlucky to bump into the girl as we were working our way OUT of the church premises.
The chick was Godson's classmates back in high school, but never paid attention to Godson because he was "scrawny." Suddenly, she "has always liked" Godson... now that he has bulked up and is making a name for himself in the fitness modeling world.
Right. We believe you, chick.
So, it was thanks to this chick that we found ourselves taking a seat on the benches outside of church, and talking in the chilly breeze.
I obviously wasn't saying much-- she wasn't MY ex-classmate. It didn't help that she remembered me as "Oh! Una de esas sangrónas" roughly translated to "Oh! You're one of those stuck up/conceited/fake girls." (she claimed she had never seen me before. Godson corrected her, reminded her of a wedding we had both attended-- she was an uninvited guest at MY table. We let her sit there, even if she took Godson's seat, so I don't know why the bitch complained... but whatever, that was four years ago) and then she proceeded to claim how we Hometown girls are the snobbiest, most unpleasant of the entire municipality (she's from two towns over).
Are you trying to befriend me... or get me jailed/excummunicated once the soldiers catch me strangling you on church premises?

Anyway, at one point, Godson left our side because he walked over to greet some other folk who hadn't seen him in years.
MeanChick and I were forced to talk... well, more like SHE was forced to talk, since I was fine sitting in silence.
She tried some smalltalk with me, but since I hate that fucking shit, she wasn't very successful.
Me: Sorry, I'm just really quiet and timid. People confuse it for snobbery, but I really just take a while to warm up and start talking.
Her: Yeah, no kidding... you really ARE really quiet.

She REALLY wanted to get on Godson's dick, and once she found out I was his godmother, who was pretty much like his older sister, she tried REALLY hard to fall in my good graces.

Apparently girls talk about their sentimental life in hopes of bonding.
MeanChick proceeded to ask me about dudes.
Her: So, are you married? Engaged? Dating?
Me: None. I'm single for life.
Her: You don't even have a crush or any of that business?
Me: Well, crushes I'm sure everyone has, I'm not an exception. However, my crush lives far, FAAAR away from me, so it's like... I pretty much have nothing.

A couple of minutes later, the conversation moved on to age. She likes older men, and hates younger guys.
Her: Younger guys are so... childish. I want nothing to do with them.
Me: Oh no, toss them over this way!
Her: What?! You like them young?!
Me: Hell yeah. HELL. YEAH. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've gone the older man route before, but it just DOES NOT work.
Her: They're just too serious, huh? They have their act together, they know what they want. I get it. You like the unobtainable... something that is not a sure thing... something that will never be serious. That's why you like the young guys... crush on guys that... you'll never be able to have. You'll never get serious, always be single.

I ended the conversation there. I zipped my lips, no longer made eye-contact, and probably scowled.
She was correct. So correct.
Bitch.

Sniff that?

I usually gripe when someone shows up to the gym after clearly spritzing themselves with perfume.

It fucking kills me and ruins my workout.

There's one offender in particular that irritates the shit out of me, because her scent is heavily accented on the sweet note... she comes in smelling like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I give her my extra mean glare... my "How DARE you smell like cookies in a place like this?!" glare. One day I'm just going to lunge at her and lick her fucking arm. 

It's like that fucking jerk who stands outside of a gym munching on a twinkie... or enjoying an ice cream cone... it's downright cruel!

Mmm... I think I want a brownie now.

Anyway, today I was about to have a fit because a chick decided to stand directly in front of me, and I SMELLED her before I saw her.

But then that weird girl-thing happened... that thing we do where we associate memories with certain scents.

The moment I identified her perfume, I eased up. I relaxed.

It was a fucking tranquilizer dart to my carotid.

What did she smell like?

Dior's "J'adore."

Who's responsible for this weapon? Mooney. And her Mom.

I associate them with this smell... their HUG, to be exact. 

I love their hugs. They have that soothing quality to them.

It's comfortable. Yeah. That's the word that comes to mind when I smell "J'adore," comfortable.

Back when my siblings and I were ghetto kids, Mooney's family was the family that made us feel any sense of normalcy. They gave us a glimpse of what normal life could be like.

They had their own beds... rooms... a back yard. They lived in a cute neighborhood with neighbors who actually knew each other. They lived close enough to their school to actually walk there. 

They had the life of kids depicted on television. They let us know that yo, that TV life really DOES exist... it's not all scary drive-bys, prostitutes, and drug dealers.

I relished every second I got to spend with Mooney and her family. I felt safe... and normal (especially since they NEVER made fun of where/how we lived... unlike my other side of the family, who wouldn't think twice to remind us YOU live in a one-bedroom piece of shit that NO ONE wants to visit because we might see a cockroach or get SHOT!).

Yeah... J'adore is my tranquilizer gun.

This made me think.

What other smells fuck with my mood due to my mental associations?

mmmmmm!

1. Dior- Addict

This I associate with MGH... and San Francisco.

My first time in SF where I stayed in MGH's house, I remember this perfume leaked in my luggage. EVERYTHING smelled like this... not that it was bad... but when your eyeliner pencil gives you a waft of Addict each time you bring it to your eye, it kind of gets annoying.

Anyway, whenever I smell this, I get both a sense of excitement... as well as anxiety.

It makes my stomach get into knots.

A sad state of affairs, really.

Quit laughing!

2. Paris Hilton's "Paris Hilton."

College. College. College.

Both the good and the bad... but mostly the good. I particularly remember sitting outside O-chem class, reading the damn book as my ass froze on the cement tables/benches, but enjoying the clear spring day. Such a pretty day... such a godforsaken subject matter... and the smell of "Paris Hilton" (yo, I must note I DID NOT purchase this myself. It was a gift... which I wound up loving. But don't share that shit with anyone).

I still go to this fragrance whenever I went to feel the butterflies I felt my first few years of college.

Good times, good times.

Makes this monster weep with joy...

3. Caress's "Tahitian Renewal Silkening Body Wash"

I will sit in the shower, motionless, my nose attached to this bottle... for at least five minutes.

It turns me into a puffer.

The amount of joy this smell brings to me kind of sort of freaks me out.

My go-to smell whenever I need to seriously cheer-up, Zoloft be fucking damned.

Europe is associated with this smell. It's the body wash I toted around all over the fucking continent back in '08.

The moment this gets discontinued I'm going to go out and get fucked up... mourning the loss of this... wonderful scent. A beautiful part of my memory will go to hell.

There are other smells, like wet dirt, Sun Chips, or leather, which bring strong feelings/memories to mind (Mexico, barfing on the entire trip TO Mexico, and my maternal grandfather, respectively)... but the above three scents (four, if you count J'adore, which you absolutely should) are quite possibly the strongest for yours-truly. Scents which could most probably put me under a spell.

Fun shit, the female state of mind...

Now excuse me, I got some body wash to go sniff.

Oink

I've seen my FB blow up with a ton of videos in regards to the whole "Shit girls say" series.
I had never actually sat down to watch the videos, but considering that I needed a laugh today (after a somewhat maddening gym session. The newbies really REALLY frustrated me today... except for one who told me I had "beautiful punching form." That shit made me blush. I'm hood, homie! That shit's natural), I sat down and wasted an hour of my life checking out these videos.
I'm guilty of NUMEROUS things pointed out in the videos... whether it's the normal girl, or the asian girl/black girl/spanish girl (MAJOR gripe with the name. I fucking HAAAAAAAAAAAATE when they refer to a Latina as "Spanish." It makes me want to stab an imbecilic motherfucker).
My number one?
MAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Anyway, seeing the videos made me want to be more of a mute... but then I remembered I talk more like a dude... you know, with my incessant swearing and references to ANYONE as "dude" or "man"... not to mention my occasional "suck my dick!"s.
I'm good... I'm good... as long as I cool it with the sighs and spacing out.

In other news of the "manly" kind: I had my first pork tenderloin for lunch today.
I consider that shit manly because how often do you hear a chick say she eats that shit?
Pork tenderloin...

The muslim/jew in me totally felt dirty afterwards. Seriously. I felt like shit... not health-wise, but just this bizarre-o sense of guilt.
Such strong guilt, I managed to dislike the taste.
Needless to say, the only pork I'm ever going to consume guilt-free will be BACON (my mouth watered at the mere sight of the word. I need bacon back in my life. BACON!)... with the occasional taste of honey-glazed ham. Other than that, I'll stay kosher, thanks.

(Sorry, I'm exhausted... this is all you get today. Sure beats reading "FUCK!" written 100 times across the page, right? Right)

When Psycho Ex-Girlfriends Attack

It appears I did not receive the memo on today being the day of "Attack of the Psycho Ex-Girlfriends."
No, not MY ex-girlfriends, considering I'm straight... I'm talking the exes of dudes I'm friends with.

The first one isn't really an "attack," but it's still weird as shit.
Guess who's coming to town tomorrow...
Yes. Heather. MGH's ex- girl... who... apparently isn't that much of an ex because they settled their differences on Christmas via heartfelt e-mail and subsequent video-chat.
Sheesh... people don't change. I'm glad I'm not in that dysfunctional yo-yo of a relationship anymore.
Anyway, the lovely Miss Heather will be in town tomorrow, and she decided to message me on Facebook and ask to hang out.
Fuck my ass! You fucking serious?!
I, being the sweet imbecile I am, agreed. I did it out of kindness and also because a few months back, when she was still the legit girlfriend of MGH, I told her I'd show her around whenever she came to town. I'm a girl of my word.. so... I agreed.
So uh... yeah... anyone wanna join me? Pretty please? Puh-leeze? I don't want to do it alone. How fucking awkward would it be? Plus, I need someone who will check me in case I start drinking too much... 'cause we all know what happens when AnoMALIE drinks too much... I turn into Coconut and my filter vanishes.
DUDE! I HATED you so fucking bad when I first met you! You and your stupid freckles... your lanky appendages... you reminded me of a marionette... or Popeye's Olive Oyl! I actually called you that for a few months! And that "strawberry blond" hair that looks more like it belongs on a Cocker Spaniel than a human... But you're soooooo cool now! You're funny!
Christ. My stomach is churning just at the thought of making that much of an ass of myself.
It does feel good knowing she's not scared of me taking her to the ghetto and selling her organs in the black market... though I'm sure her organs would be useless since she has such a bad drinking problem. Girl drinks like a fucking fish.
But don't worry, I'M not a psycho ex-girlfriend... so no harm will be done to the girl. I'll be the only one hurting as I show her around and get... drunk under the table (?).

The second scenario IS an example of a fucking psycho ex-girlfriend.
This chick is Berkeley Math Major's ex. Now THAT bitch is crazy. She's a bio major... if that helps explain the issue (yes, I understand I was a bio major, but that only means I KNOW what this bitch is all about).
I was minding my own fucking business when I suddenly got a message from her. The message was your typical psycho message from a stranger-- lots of punctuation marks, particularly question marks and exclamation points... and that thing psychos do where it appears their Shift key is stuck on their keyboard... ALL CAPS.
I still don't understand where she's coming from. I don't know what that's all about... so I just shrugged it off and ignored it.
I'm still a little scared that she'll get crazier on me... but if push comes to shove, I'm screen shot-ing that shit and showing BMM... or I'll just head up to the bay to handle some fucking business.
...
Write ME a threatening, psychotic Facebook message... shit... go back to your fucking Orgo book and learn your fucking mechanisms, twat.

Girls are fucking crazy.
God bless straight men who willingly put up with that shit.

Don't do it, girl!

I'm getting better.
I'm even on "mood stabilizing" pills.
Who would have thought carbohydrates to be THAT fucking important in one's emotional health.
But I'll pay that price any day, over... you know... being fat and KINDA normal (now I'm just pissed all the time... but I can leg press your mother... and probably your father, too! Deal with it, World).

You know what else makes me angry? Yesterday's show.
Ok, it DOESN'T make me angry... it just irritates me... and it's in the forefront of my mind because... it was so goddamn ridiculous.
Today, we spoke about how you break it to a dude, and if you even break it to the dude.
On the show, the girls would straight up tell the date "I'm a virgin." after maybe half an hour. Then they'd go off and ask the date what their future plans looked like... the steps and amount of time they planned to take at each one and whatnot.
I sat there watching, mesmerized.
No wonder these broads are virgins...

Seriously, I've never actually vocalized my status. I've never had to. I find it akin to "I'm retarded."
If I see myself ever actually saying those dreaded words, it'd be seconds before fucking, and it'd be along the lines of "well, I apologize in advance if this sucks... but..." then we'd get over it. But this would only happen if I really liked the dude and wouldn't feel stupid about one day possibly admitting to banging him (that's where MY issue lies. I overanalyze and convince myself that I'll never forgive myself for allowing this or that dude's appendage anywhere near me. I really do treat my body like a temple... or I'm just fucking mean as hell. He has a fucking stupid-shaped head! YOU let THIS guy hit it. THIS GUY! With the stupid-shaped head! For shame! or He says "SUPPOSAVLY!" SUPPOSAVLY! Shoot yourself, AnoMALIE... you fucking idiot! You let that animal possibly, theoretically procreate with you!). It'd be my way of admitting he's pretty fucking legit.
Yo! I totally don't think you're embarrassing or stupid! And I'm totally cool with the thought of you one day possibly reproducing mini-yous! Hooray!
However, I'm not saying I've never seen this go down with someone else... the vocalization of status, that is.

In my experience, when a girl tells a dude she's part of the club, his reaction is one of two:
1. He wants to hit that. BAD. 
He will hustle that girl until he lands her. It turns into a fucked up game... that I kind of enjoy watching, because both parties entertain the shit out of me-- the dude for trying so hard and the chick for being so retarded and throwing her so called "morals" out the door. Both parties always think they're smarter than the other... when in reality, they're equally handicapped.
Most of the time, once the guy hits it, he totally quits it. And the girl goes off and becomes a huge whore... or "reclaims" her virginity... that twat.

2. He runs like hell.
I have to admit, this one used to infuriate me.
REEEEEEEELAX, you fucking asshole! You're not THAT special. Calm your ass down, you lamefuck (these accidental puns are really aggravating me, but I can't help it. This is how I really talk. It's how my brain works).
I used to think these egomaniacs needed to get punched in the face, for thinking so highly of themselves.
Yeah, you're so fucking special... I'll NEVER forget your sexual prowess. The moment you leave me, I'll be broken FOREVER! Suffer a lifetime of longing for your dick... because you will be so damn unforgettable, my love! "My love" because that's what will definitely happen after I have a taste of your penis... I'll be madly in LOVE with you! Get. Out. Of. Here.
But after watching this show, I get it.
I get you, guys, I get you.
Bitches be motherfucking crazy! Chick may try to stronghold you into marrying her... or she'll forever stare at you with that creepy, adoring, is-she-a-serial-killer? look in her eye.
Run. Run like the wind!

Ahhh, I'm in the company of greats.

Lips-N-Tittays

I'm hell of short on time today.
I'm freaking out because I have SO much to do and only today and tomorrow to prepare because come Thursday morning, I'm off to see the most hyped city in possibly the world... and I'm also sort of freakin' out because I'll finally be running a legit chance of getting mugged... because you haven't really been mugged until the day some hustlers in some shoddy part of the Bronx hold you at knifepoint.

Anyway, here's my post:

Men, you have it ROUGH when it comes to finding chicks on the internet.
Girls are SNEAKY when it comes to their profile pictures. Granted, I have been known to contort my body... well, no, not my body... but I did have that phase where the Myspace photo would find its way to my profile.
But NOT like this girl.
Remember this cunt from the baby shower:

The girl who forever ruined florals for me.

Well, I found her on Facebook.
I was... not surprised, but more like... amused... by her FB photos. She's a master of disguise.
Wanna see?
Remember, I'm only doing this to help out my boys who might... have a weakness for big titties and thick lips.

tittaayyys

you deceptive little hamster!

tits rule the world. Seriously.

Ladies: CLEAN YOUR FUCKING MIRRORS!

I might... steal this move...

sweaters...

gotta give it up to her, she knows how to work it...

CAREFUL HUNTING, fellas!

Kinda always knew

Ladies and gentlemen, today, I became an adult.
I made peace with Olive Oyl. Like... legit peace. Like... "we're FB friends and I didn't stalk her photos or wall posts" (and I never will. It's true I'm over the disintegration of the whole "MGH/AnoMALIE thing," but I still don't want to sit there and wade through a never-ending stash of photos between the new lovebirds. That's just creepy stalker shit) peace.

I'm... over it.
I'm awed by this. Completely.
It only took me... what? Nine months? Not bad. And I've never befriended the chick I've lost to before. I was friends with a girl who stole away the "love of my young life" back in high school... but that was before she went ahead and fucked him (which led to him knocking her up). We were cool up until that happened.
So... this is new to me.

I can be nice.
I'm scared.
What kind of... weak-ass, pussy shit is this?
Yo... I really am going to heaven, for real.

Weirdest thing of all? I spoke to MGH, and again, I didn't feel that familiar pang in my heart, the palpitations, the tears building... I was good. It was as if I was speaking to a little cousin... kind of, except I felt nothing. This time, I didn't even feel anger.
That's kind of scary. I think my wish for being unable to feel anything is finally coming true... after 20 years of praying for it.

You guys... I think I can no longer feel... I think I just killed my heart!
Should I be panicking... or should we celebrate this?
I'M FREE!!!

Warriors

Entry from 04/15/09 titled "Inadequate, to say the least." Uhh... my apologies in advance:

Still sad.
Ok, it's worse than that.
I've spent the last couple of hours crying.

First of all, I had a semi-confrontation with MGH thanks to facebook.
Beautiful.

He added a photo consisting of him and 2 buddies, plus a chick he tagged as "the mission."
Then he added a comment mentioning what a... I guess warrior he was.

I found the pic rather disturbing, since clearly he was beyond pissed (drunk, not angry)... and the chick was just... well, here, you be the judge:


Well, I had a chance to talk to him later that day.
Me: Dude... WTF is up with "the mission"?
Him: ahahahaha... oh, that... well... I (gives me some weird Mexican slang).
Me: ??
Him: Basically, I had to take one for the team.
Me: You fucked her?!
Him: AHAHAHA
Me: That's fucking... wait... was this over the summer?!
Him: No, it was a year ago. Why? Did I do wrong? Brave of me, right?
Me: No... that's fucking dirty... Who does that shit?

And you get my drift.

Nothing against the girl... I mean.. shit... not cool to have your photo posted all over the internet to have dudes laugh and high five each other over how "brave" one of the guys was for "taking one for the team." But this is the second time I put up with MGH gloating about his less-than-ideal hook-ups with random ass chicks.
Which makes me scream and cry:
WHAT THE FUCK IS SO WRONG WITH ME THAT YOU'LL GO OFF AND DO THAT SHIT, THEN BOAST ABOUT IT TO MY FACE?!
Gaaaaaaah! So fucking frustrating and demoralizing!

So... yes... I've been crying quite often since that moment up until gym time (I actually got teary-eyed walking into the gym. I had to stop myself... because gym = temple. I will NOT cry over a guy at the gym... that's pussy shit).

*****

And that's where I end that entry. I had posted it back then, but took it down a day later because I couldn't read it without crying... or wanting to vomit (I also had other drama with it, which should no onger get me in trouble).

Reason I bring it up now is because:
1- I can finally read it and sort of laugh. It still pisses me off, and would I have MGH in front of my face, I'd still kick him in the balls for it. But... I no longer feel the need to cry after thinking about it.
And
2- My friend did this today... the warrior thing.

It weirds me out, the behavior. I don't understand what drives a guy to do that sort of shit.
It's really, REALLY frustrating.
He's a handsome guy-- sure, a little short, but still handsome-- who shouldn't have trouble finding a chick... and for some reason, he decided to take down one of these bisons at the bar... as if it were a sport.
And the thing that creeped me out most was that he was in MY company when he decided to do it (as well as his two guy friends... who were "cheering him on" like fucking cavemen). I was front row and center to see this shit go down.
WTF?! You invited me to see this?
The moment I saw this going down, I decided to peace out.
I love the guy, he's my childhood friend, and he makes me laugh... but... I don't enjoy seeing a chick get toyed with.
And I don't know why he thought I was going to approve of the behavior... but he gave me a thumbs up as I left the bar, shaking my head.

Guys: I dig y'all... I enjoy the company... but... what the fuck goes on in your mind when you do this?

I also don't enjoy the look of "victory" these woolly mammoths throw my way when "my dude" goes for them... ok, fuck it, I think that's the main thing that irritates me... the bison thinking she has me beat.
Not cool, bitch, I was trying to stick up for you... hoe. But go ahead, take him. I'm in NO rush to give that motherfucker head any time soon. Especially not when I look like I'm on my way to taking him to day-care. He's all yours, babe. Enjoy. 
P.S. This trophy boy you just "stole" from me... we just pigged out on some spicy-garlic buffalo wings. Enjoy the taste of that "protein."
xoxo

Ohhhh-Kaaay!

Hooray for intelligence!

If you try really hard, you can see a bit of my shirt behind the dumbass chick in the shorts at the left.
She didn't have to lean like that... I mean, there were four of us that needed to scoot over near her, but she decided to block my cousin and I like that (yes, there are TWO girls sitting behind her). Fine by me (I just can't get over how retarded she was at jumping in front of us like that).

Anyway, as exemplified by the photo above, last night was interesting.
Besides hanging out with a bunch of girls who only wanted to get twisted and get photos taken of them at the venue, I had to deal with a bunch of dudes who seemed to be wearing some mean-ass beer-goggles. Somehow, last night I became the motherfuckin' belle of the ball. I was highly confused by the attention... and extremely uncomfortable.
Do they think I'm a prostitute? WTF? Relax, dudes. I'm a bitch, leave me alone. No, I'm not interested in doing anything with your mouth, hands, and especially not your dick. I just came to dance, get away from me.
Somehow, my Don't you fucking DARE talk to me vibe was untraceable once I entered the club. As a person who dislikes bodily contact, this only spelled disaster for me.
The continuous caressing of my shoulders, back, and/or ass as I walked by went well past the annoying stage, and started to reach the critical level where I was damn near close to screaming "QUIT FUCKING TOUCHING ME!" while pushing dudes into the pool... but I kind of didn't feel like getting banned from all MGM-Mirage properties. And when I think about it, I probably shouldn't complain so much-- at least they were not touching me with their crotch (which seemed to be the preferred method of contact in CanCun).

It also didn't help that this guy happened to be hosting the night:

Yey-AH! OH-KAY!

I was as FAR away from this as possible.

I left after three songs.
Yeah, I'm a party animal.

Pequitas

I am once again brother-less.
Yesterday we spent the day together and "bonded."
At our "last meal," aka "stuffing our face at noon with sushi to eat jack the rest of the day," Rafa got a call from his Notre Dame BFF and ex-roommate.
Rafa: For real, ChingChangCheezy? (he has a thing for giving EVERYONE a nickname. They are not always the most politically correct, either. This guy is a hardcore "ginger." Give him a green suit and hat and he might as well turn into the ND mascot)
Rafa: You couldn't wait for me to get there? Shiiiiiyet.
Rafa: Yeh. I get there tomorrow. Yeh. I'll be there.

Turns out ChingChang got enganged to his chick of 6 months and he was asking Rafa if he was going to be able to make it to the engagement dinner at South Bend. Well, it's more of an "I'm engaged, let's get shitfaced this entire weekend!" dinner.
Rafa was excited... then his face turned sour.
Rafa: Fuck.
Me: What? Did you forget something?
Rafa: Fuck! Amanda (CCC's new fiance) is best friends with Katelyn.
Sister: KATELYN RILEY?!
Rafa: ... ... (grabs face) yes.
Sister and I: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Ok, backstory on Katelyn Riley:
Last year, when we went for Rafa's graduation, we noticed him a little uneasy while we were taking photos near Touchdown Jesus.
Then, this really pretty blue-eyed, blond-haired girl emerged from the crowd and smiled at my brother.
Chick: Rafi!!! I need a picture with you!
My brother looked like the executioner had just come to take him to the gallows, and they disappeared into the sea of black grad gowns.

Later that night, when we were hanging out with his best friends and their family, we noticed all the guys making fun of him... even some of the parents.
They were busting his balls over some Katelyn chick.
Ruffles would try to change the subject, but one of the guys would always manage to add a Katelyn jab.

Once it was time to go, Mom and Dad left in their car, and Rafa drove Sister and I to our hotel.
We had to ask about Katelyn.
Me: Why are they making fun of this "Katelyn?" Is it that really pretty blonde girl who took you away from us during photo time?
Rafa: I WISH!
Sister: Well... then who is Katelyn and why does her name make you blush?
Rafa took a detour and took us to the ND dorms.
Rafa: Ok. So I live here, right? Well... you know how my friends get so frustrated when I get shitfaced? We were at the pub I took you guys earlier, I was drunk as fuck, my friends got irritated with me and left without me noticing. I was bored, and knew few people... but I noticed this chick Katelyn. She has been in at least one of my classes every semester, and her friends told me she had a crush on me... but I would have preferred if they hadn't.
Me: Why? Is she a bitch?
Rafa: No. I guess she's cool... but she's not my type. But at the pub, she kept following me EVERYWHERE. This was in December, and it was snowing. I wanted to leave, so I went outside to get a cab. Katelyn and her group of friends followed me. They were like "Oh, well, we need to go back to our room as well. Let's all just get a cab together. We got you, Rafi." I was drunk and everything, but I kept thinking "What the fuck? These bitches live on the complete opposite side of my dorms... wait... do they want to know where I live?!"
Sister: Eww! She's a stalker?!
Rafa: Wait, it gets better. So I somehow manage to sit in the back of the cab. I'm between two girls and another one is in the front. It's really dark, so I don't know who's who. Next thing I know, I feel this girl grab my head and then her lips are on mine, and she just starts going at it. And I was like "What the fuck is going on here?!"
Me: Did you push her off?
Rafa: No. I mean... who rejects a kiss, right? The girl was down to make out, so I just sat there..
Me: ... and took it.
Rafa: Pretty much. She was down to make out with my drunk ass... and I didn't know who it was, so I just closed my eyes and let her have her way with me until the taxi stopped at my dorm. When it was time to get out... she opened the door and stepped out. I was horrified. It was Katelyn. And she wanted to go up to my room. So I was like "Umm.. no, I can't. The RA is going to see and you know we're not allowed to have girls in our room." And I bolted. I sobered up instantly.
Me: So what's wrong with Katelyn? She likes you... obviously.
Rafa: Well, when I got to my room, CCC asked me what was wrong. And I told him. He laughed so hard he woke everyone in the room... and I had to tell them the story.
Me: What is so wrong with Katelyn?
Rafa: She's a redhead... a curly-haired redhead... with the most freckles I've ever seen on a person. FRECKLES! After the day she dropped me off at my dorm, I didn't talk to her in class again.

Sister and I laughed pretty hard, because nothing appalls Rafa more than freckles.
Our laughter only grew wilder when he told us there was a second part.

Rafa: Then this March, it was St. Patrick's Day. Once again... I was drunk. Once again, it was that pub. ONCE AGAIN Katelyn was there. I don't know why I did this, but I went over to my friend, and I told him "I bet you anything, I can make that girl over there in the corner make out with me. I'm just going to walk up to her, and I bet you she's going to make out with me." He was like "Alright, D, fifty bucks. Go." So I walked over to her, tapped her shoulder... and who was it?
Sister and I: KATELYN RILEY!
Rafa: Yes. I tapped her shoulder, she turned around... and I was like "Shit! Why?!" but then I thought "Fuck it. 50 dollars." She smiled, and we just started making out.
Me: Was she drunk?
Rafa: That's the crazy part! She wasn't!

So, now knowing the story, we were eager to see her during our stay in South Bend, but we never had the pleasure. When we returned home, we couldn't even see her facebook.
That elusive little Katelyn Riley.

Ok, now let's fast-forward to yesterday.
As Rafa was lamenting over having to see Katelyn this weekend (Sister: Duuude! Imagine if you're paired up with her for the wedding! Rafa: FUCK YOU! Hell no! I won't show up to that shit), Sister and I remembered we had yet to see this girl.
We made a deal with Rafa: I'd pick up his tab AND give him a pedicure if (once we got home) he got on his facebook and showed us this girl with nerves of steel.

We get home, he tries to act like he forgot, but no. No, no, no. I don't forget this sort of shit.
He signed in to his Facebook and started to look.
He was still friends with Katelyn, but he wasn't allowed to see her photos.
Rafa: Oh, I know Amanda will have a ton of photos of her.
I knew he had found a stash once he covered his face.
Rafa: There... there she is... Katelyn Riley. Ergh.

There she was. In all her freckly glory.
I'd post a photo, but that's fucked up. Let's just say she looks like... umm... this:

Is that Katelyn, or Randall C. Weems?

Just add a shitload of freckles and long hair to that... and that's the girl.

There were photos from that St. Patrick's Day she made out with Rafa.
Me: Damn... I see why you hit it and quit it, Rafa. She has a decent rack. Look at that low-cut shirt. Someone was trying to impress that night...
Rafa: (covers face in exasperation and some disgust) Man... no. Nah. Don't even... let's not talk about this.

Is my brother a jackass?
I don't know. He really does get distressed when he talks about her.
I'm even a jackass for joining in the ball-busting.
I'll go a lot easier on dudes from now on... I didn't know it was this fun to harass guys over such things.
Also, I'll definitely never tell another guy I like him, at least not publicly.
I don't want to be anyone's Katelyn Riley, with all due respect to the poor girl. I'm sure she's popular in... Ireland or something.

Lady Shutyourassup

Last night was one of the best nights I've had in a while. These boys are pretty freakin' awesome...

It also helps that they think I'm pretty awesome.

Three of the nine boys are a little too touchy-feely with me...

It's weird to have three guys hanging all over me, since I usually can't even get three puppies to be all over me... even when I have food in my hands.

One kid in particular is pretty damn adorable. He did everything but sit on my lap last night to try to get me to talk to him. Weird shit, I say.

Anyway, I was in a good mood, even if I did go to bed at four in the morning. Then I woke up to this rant:

I'm tried of people saying that these fame whores are "amazing" singers and dancers. I have watched 5 Lady Gaga videos. She doesn't dance. She walks around and touches herself. Just because you do jerky moves (I'm talking to you Beyonce!) does not make you a real dancer (even if Mr. West thinks you are "the best dancer ever"). If back up dancers didn't exist, people wouldn't like these lame videos nearly as much. 

Oh yeah and just repeating names such as Alejandro or Roberto doesn't make a song any good. It's just repetitive like- " I say Hillshire, you say farm. Go meat!!!". Someone said Lady Gaga is our Freddy Mercury. Queen was and is one of the most important bands there ever was. Gaga is crap in a sewer drain compared to Queen. People I'm asking you to explain to me why, why do YOU think these people are any good? 

P.s. Oh and by the way no amount of make-up makes ugly pretty, so stop draining the world's supplies and just live with your genetics.

Homegirl... where do I begin?

The chick who posted this on FB is my friend ONLY because she's my friend's fiancé. I love him-- as a FRIEND-- and so, by default, I respect whoever he wants to spend the rest of his life with.
She has taken a few jabs at me before, most recently being a comment I made about the Mexican flag being the most beautiful flag in the world.
"Umm... why??"
Because an international poll said so, you fucking confrontational brat. The story behind that awesome Eagle-eating-a-snake is badass... you'd know it if you were half as cultured as you feel you are.
Instead of saying what I really wanted to say, I bit my tongue and acted as if I didn't know what she was talking about. I changed the topic to the first half of my comment, which was something along the lines of "I'm so fucking excited!" Because I don't want to cause friction between my friend and I.
But... I can only take so much of her insolent, vapid remarks. Eventually, I'm going to go off on her. One day, ONE FUCKING DAY.

The idiot is 22, she didn't go to college, and she takes issue with everything. She feels capacitated to talk about ANY topic as if she had a PhD in ALL subjects... which I guess would be possible if sitting at home and watching TV all day counts as getting an education.
Chase and I have accidentally zinged her a couple of times while hanging out. It's just too easy... and she's so fucking opinionated, that sometimes, we can't help it.
I guess she has harbored some sort of resentment, and she resorts to taking it out on us via FB (this is what happens when too many fucks are allowed to join facebook).

Both Chase and I have Lady Gaga listed as a favorite on FB. This idiot only has 27 friends on FB... gee, I wonder at whom she's directing this diatribe...

I'll start by saying my taste in music is CRAZY eclectic. I have everything from English death metal to French rap, Mexican mariachi to Italian pop. I try not to demerit music too much, because I honestly try to find a redeeming quality in most.
Lyrics repetitive and nonsensical? Well... does it have a decent beat? If yes, then fuck it, I'll dance. If the answer is NO, then fuck that shit, I won't listen.
Is the beat slow/boring, but the lyrics meaningful? Ok, I'll listen right before going to bed (only to be woken up by my horrible shuffle that proceeds to play "Sweating Bullets" or some shit).
Sure, there are artists out there that make me want to slit my wrists and pour gasoline all over myself while smoking, all in order to just end the experience... but I don't go off and pick a fight with people who DO like them.

Why do I like Gaga? 1- she writes her own shit. 2- she has the most unique sense of fashion... as outlandish as it may be. 3- her register of voice is interesting. 4-  she is the sweetest girl to those who love/support her.
Lady Gaga, basically, would be my friend in real life. She's weird and she doesn't give a fuck to please dumb, critical jackasses like Friend'sFiancé.
Yeah, they over-play her like nobody's business, but if I'm not in the mood to listen, I change the damn station.
The fact that Gaga can get so many people to love her is amazing in and of itself... I couldn't even get all of the 10-12 people in my damn college creative writing class to like me.

Oh, and as for Beyonce having jerky dance moves... are we watching the same chick? The girl can throw down! I will PAY to see YOU out-dance her. I don't really care for Beyonce, but I will give her credit any day for her dance moves. So, it's not the foxtrot or a Viennese waltz... who gives a fuck? Who the fuck dances to that shit in today's world? Go ahead, try it at a club, Friend'sFiancé... I'm sure you'll show those idiots.

P.S. "World's supplies?" Umm, you mean "Earth's resources?" Quit trying to showcase this supposed superior intelligence, it becomes painfully evident that you CLEARLY don't posses this trait within seconds of you opening your mouth (also, makeup tends to be composed of oils and pigments that are quite abundant in this world. What the fuck are you talk about?).
Think you're better than I am? The only subject you're probably more advanced in is sucking dick... and that's only because I don't participate. I'm sure if you give me some time to practice, I'll trump you there as well.

She's hella cool

Sticking to my previous post's theme of homosexuality, here's another story:

I don't have many female friends. While Facebook might beg to differ, it's a fact that I have a tendency to chill with more guys than girls.
The girls I do hang out with are incredible ladies, and rarely get caught up in the typical girly drama.
Now, I wouldn't say I don't ever get caught up in shit-talking. I'm quite snarky when it comes to gossiping about others, however, this part of my personality seems to be amplified whenever I hang out with girls who love to go out to dinner or nightclubs and just tear other girls to shreds with their wicked words.
So, I make conscious efforts to stay away from chicks who seem to thrive on gossip... and end up hanging out with dudes or my trustee 3 female friends.

About a year ago, I met a chick who struck me as awesome after two minutes of conversation. She was at a family party, and she's BFF with two of my really cool cousins. The girl approached my sister and I, and her conversation consisted of hilarious anecdotes and asking interesting questions.

Me: Dude, Aria's hilarious!
Sis: I guess.
Me: She's hella cool, what are you talking about?! No wonder C and M chill with her!

Fast forward to this weekend.
M graduated and threw a party, where I ultimately stumbled upon Aria* (not actual name) once again.
Aria, once again, was the life of the party. She got M a boa (actual snake) for her grad gift, and everyone at the party was intrigued, but fearful. Aria was the only one holding the snake and encouraging others to pet it.
This reminded me that I had yet to add her to my FB, so I did.

Lo and behold... I see what's up.
She likes girls.

Come on guys! Take note!

Leo!

I grew up in one of Vegas' many ghettos. My particular ghetto was the one found behind the Stratosphere casino... aka Naked City.

I'm a nice girl... always have been, but I do have a mean streak in me thanks to the 14 years I had to spend in the aforementioned ghetto.
I can punch, I can kick, I can strangle... and hair pulling, bitch, please, I don't even play in that department. I know an elbow to the face does incredible damage, and better yet, face-to-the-knee is MAGIC when brawling.

I've grown up... my fighting years are behind me. However, recently I bumped into a FB group dedicated to my middle school. Thanks to the group, I've found a couple of friends... and foes.
The craziest is this one chick with whom I had a nasty pool fight. Yes, POOL fight.

Our school had a pool, and we were forced to swim for PE at the beginning and end of the school year. We were swimming, I -- being the shy, chubby, prepubescent 13-year-old who would have killed to NOT have boobs-- wore a shirt over my bathing suit... a two-piece... which I only owned because it was cheaper than a one piece.
I avoided swimming for the entire hour by walking 10 laps around the shallow end. Anything to avoid being in the pool for too long.
One day I heard this girl, a 7th grader, talking shit.


"Why does that fucking fat bitch wear a two piece? Does she think that white shirt is covering anything?"
I turned to her and made eye-contact.
"Yes, I'm talking about you!"
I was walking laps in the pool, she was walking directly behind me.
"Listen, you stupid dyke, I don't give a fuck what you think. I'm a girl. I'm growing... at least I don't look like a boy! You fucking wanna-be Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike!"
"At least I'm not a fat bitch!"
She then splashed water at my face.

It. Was. On.

I grabbed her neck and held her head underwater.
For a long time.
And I didn't let go.
She splashed and writhed under me, and eventually one of her friends and one of mine had to pry me off.
The teachers never did a thing about it. We were just pulled out of the pool and forced to sit out for the remainder of class. As we sat against a wall, shivering and wrapped in our towels, she apologized. I apologized immediately after. We made peace by the end of the year, I moved to a nicer part of town, and that was that.

I hadn't heard from this girl since then, and all of a sudden, yesterday I went to her facebook.
What is she?
A Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike.
;)
I was right the whole time!

She was the first, and is the only chick on which I ever used that derogatory term.
Kids can be cruel.
(But I was right.... bahahaha)