Lawyers

Graduation Day for tons of folk today.
Cool stuff.
With the graduations, come the parties.
Today, I've been invited to my childhood friend's law school graduation party.
I agreed to go... because I really am fond of her. We have some good memories together. When we were four, she showed me how to whistle, I showed her how to make pies... I also punched her in the face shortly after.
I didn't see her on a regular basis once we entered elementary school, because her parents divorced... and that is one TWISTED-ASS story (her mom being too demanding, driving her dad into severe panic attacks to the point where he finally just loses it and is locked up in a mental institution for years. Friend's mom then takes all of his money and quits speaking to any of her husband's relatives/acquaintances. Her mom then tells my friend that her father abandoned them and continues to bad-mouth him throughout my friend's life. Friend is resentful of her father. Her dad is finally released from the institution in '03, tries living a normal life... but deeply misses his daughter. He'd see girls his daughters age and he'd continuously bring her up--he did that to me every single time. I'd get uncomfortable because I'd see his tears building up, and I mean, what do you do with a sentimental grown man ready to burst into tears because you reminded him of his estranged daughter?-- Anyway, as this man starts getting better, he feels he's good enough to quit using his meds... one day decides to drive two blocks over to his brother's house, he gets pulled over, he freaks out, cops then freak out and taze him FOUR times, which ultimately kills him. He dies never having seen or spoken to his daughter for 17 years. Daughter shows up alone to ten minutes of his funeral mass, but sits in the back so no one sees her. The story would make me cry for a good two years each time I'd have to tell it. I find it HORRIBLY sad).
We met back up in high school, because we happened to go to the same one... and we had many classes together, because we were both part of the AP crew.
We rekindled our friendship.

Anyway, I'm kind of honored that she thought of me when it came to doing her list of 40 invites.
There's only one teeny, tiny problem: the whole high school thing.
I saw her list... and the vast majority are people from high school.
In case I haven't stressed this enough on here: I HATED high school.

So umm... I'm... doing that whole thing where I have to pump myself up.
Social anxiety sucks dick... it licks asshole when it involves the pricks from high school.
No, I don't hate everyone from high school, I have plenty of good friends I acquired throughout those four years of HELL.
You see, this friend was popular. A cheerleader. Pretty.
I was a nerd. I was quiet. I was new.
I was CLEARLY a Mexican in a sea of white kids (I apologize, friends, but it was true. I stood out like a sore thumb in that school).
Yes, this friend is also Mexican, but she was lucky to be blessed with light skin, and she was assimilated to the white-preppy-people culture. I sure as fuck WAS NOT. I was HOOD.
Therefore, her friends and my friends clashed.
They still do.
I'm chill, laid-back, down to earth (for the most part. I accept the fact that I can get delusional). As are my friends. Her friends are superficial, uptight, and self-absorbed. She can get that way as well, but deep down, she's a sweet girl with a very sad story that only very few know (me being one of them. I know things SHE doesn't know), so that's why we're still friends.

I'm trying to get mentally prepared for this encounter... you know, so I don't leave this party in tears.
It appears the winner here is "You're happy. You're happy. You're happy. Put a smile on your face and convince them. That scowl of yours only freaks people out. You're free. You have no responsibilities. You can hook-up with whoever you want. You don't have to work or study... and you get to travel for an indefinite amount of time. You're happy. You're happy. You're happy."

Let's hear it for the miserable times ahead! Wooooo!

Diplo...monadida.

OH HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ok, March, we've made peace.
:DDDDDD

Drink up! Merry Christmas!

What have I been up to this past week?

Sweet, sweet lord...
Oh so much.

And by "Oh so much," I mean "I can't remember most of it because it's all a fucking drunken haze."

While I have in my possession photographs from two of my three drunken episodes of the past week (I was smart enough not to bring one for the EBT/CSID outing last Tuesday, I did take some to the drinking events I went to Thursday and Sunday night), I'm only posting photos from Thursday, since it was my graduation party/21st birthday party of one of my buddies.

Tuesday's outing will never be mentioned again after today.
To summarize that day in less than 500 words:
I went out, freaked out thinking they were taking me to The Green Door for a minute, got tipsy off two Cuba Libres (I fucking hate rum), got a little vocal about my true feeling towards EBT (e.g. "Well, I did think you were cool before you started fucking all those girls... like my cousins," "You know... sometimes I just want to fucking erase you from my world... but it's so hard because you're so cute and smart... and you know, I act like I hate you and want to ignore you... but if you wanted to kiss me right now... I'd totally be all for it... you have green eyes? Dude, I thought they were hazel... I love green eyes!" I'm such a slut, dude), EBT gave me "the talk" (no, he didn't tell me where babies come from... although I'm sure he wouldn't have been too bothered in showing me. He gave me the "If I haven't approached you sooner, it's because I'm thinking seriously about you. I'm getting old... you're finally free... let's see where this goes... maybe we can settle down together" talk), and I laughed/cried as I tried to turn him down gently (My last words were "Give me a month or two..." when I really wanted to say "Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU!!" ... but he has green eyes!! God, I'm such a moron. I just figured come February, I'll be in London and his ass will not be able to follow me there).
From this day forward, I will say no more on the subject of my outing with EBT on his birthday. It never happened, yeah?

Ok.
So I "recuperated" all Wednesday.
Then came Thursday night.
I'll let the pictures do the talking (no, I won't, I'll have to add captions):

(This here's the view from our suite... it was a fucking awesome suite... number 2253-- aka my age next to my basketball jersey number-- and it was all by sheer luck, the number of course. We got the room free thanks to our Mexican hook-ups... hence why being Mexican is fucking awesome. While we're known for doing the "dirtier" jobs... we'll have some of the best connections thanks to that, and of course, we'll all group together to bring a great night out to fruition. It was a beautiful thing, really, the team work... brought a tear to my eye)

(That's a diagram of where our room was located. See the red dot? Yeah... we were THAT great at hooking it up. 22nd of 23 floors, room facing the strip, smack dab in the middle. Too bad it was a girls night out... we didn't have any guys to impress and then bed because they'd be so turned on by our powerful connections... j/k, guys wanted to come, but we'd never give up the room number. Fuck them if they thought they were going to party with us and our liquor)

(That right there was the first thing "The Girls" did when they saw the view from our room. I, being an innocent goody-two-shoes, was mesmerized by the Bellagio being across the street... "The Girls" just wanted to flash the people on the strip. Hoes. J/k The girl in the far left is blurred because she really went all out when it came to flashing the strip. Nut.)

(Then the drinking began. The girl in the pink was buzzed... singing and dancing on the pillar there... and throughout the night, she bumped the hell out of the slab... to the point where she was bruised the next morning. To the left, you can see the goodies the butlers--yey!! Butlers!!-- left us. Sure, there was plenty of liquor, but they also gave us SO much cheese... I swore off [fancy] cheese the next morning.)

(Now the drinking is getting serious... with our neat-o game of loteria. I, of course, lost this round and had to take a swig of Crown Royal... after I finished off half a bottle of Absolut, one you'll notice is not in the picture, 'cause guess what? It's in my lap! The girl in the pastel pink was a wuss... she had a baby shot of Grey Goose and called it a night. Girl in the pink, being the birthday girl, totally seconded--sp? is that a word? I use it in Spanish, I don't know if it's used in English-- my motion and was getting twizzzted at a much faster pace. The guy in the red was showing us a bunch of neat-o games. He was friends with Pastel Pink, so he kept all the shit tame and lame)

(It's 3:30 AM, Do YOU know where your kid is?
We were busy finishing bottles. Ok, I wasn't plastered-plastered because I had to take care of the children [because I'm the one who's been going to Body Pump the last seven months. I knew that'd come back and bite me in the ass]. As you can see, the girl that completely flashed the strip is missing by now, but that's because she's in bed, trying to sleep while her vomiting will not permit it. The other girls [while they did puke later on in the night] I had to keep from going out of the room, because they kept getting the urge to go to leave to God knows where, and at one point, some dude tried opening the door-- a complete stranger. Needless to say, that sobered me the fuck up... so I started taking pictures like this one)

(It's 4 AM, newbies aren't so fantastic now. I still have to be alert and ready to kick ass if need be, so I stayed awake... sobered up... sort of... while watching cable [Yey!! Cable!!]. Intermittently, the girls would wake up... I just remember having a conversation with Birthday Girl one of the times while watching some sort of extreme sports show... it was skateboarding, park discipline... and Ryan Sheckler was on... and I just remember referring to him as my "16-year-old boyfriend" and then correcting myself by saying "He's 16 here, but he's turning 18 on the 30th..." [how did I know that??] and so, we laughed... then I changed it to some soccer channel... only to see Cristiano Ronaldo was on... and I then said "Now this guy... he's the fucking love of my life!!" to which Birthday Girl responded with "God, AnoMALIE... I didn't know you liked so many guys!" Hello... I'm a girl! Just because I don't go ga-ga over the usual Mexicans we're around DOES NOT mean I don't like guys... it just means I don't like THOSE guys)

(I managed to take a picture of my buzzed self at some point. I stayed awake the entire night-- I'm a good care-taker like that-- but everyone woke up at 7 AM, after Birthday Girl's sister called saying her dad was going to catch her if she didn't come home ASAP [Birthday Girl came because she kind of, sort of, lied to her parents about where she was going to be all night. I did as well, but I'm a fucking pro at it. I was not missed when I didn't come home to sleep that night]. I had to change into some jeans and my Notre Dame hoodie, take my sister's keys, leave my heavily intoxicated sister to take care of Vomiting LVBLVD Flasher, and drive my sister's car to Birthday Girl's home. I only imagine that kind of fast action being taken by a damn sancho when his lover's husband shows up and he now had to make a quick getaway. Anyway, I then received a phone call from Sister saying she was going to meet me at Birthday Girl's home, because VLVBLVDF was bringing her there. Luckily, Birthday Girl lived 10 minutes away from the Hotel/Casino.
And that, my friends, sobered me up automatically, and 100%... and made me come home at 7:30 AM. I stayed awake until 9:15 AM... at which point I said "Congratulations to me!" and fell fast asleep in the middle of Live with Regis and Kelley. I woke up at 1 PM, and then had to act like nothing was going on for the rest of the day... which was one of the hardest things I've had to do as of yet)

Then came Sunday (I was having such a hard time Friday-Saturday... my memory sucked ass... and each time I told myself I was going to blog about my experience, I'd forget. I just wanted to sleep... and kill the creators of Absolut Vodka).
Ah yes.
Sunday.
I took pictures... and video... but I will never, ever, ever post them up.
It was a more intimate setting (I mean, we weren't in a casino playing Loteria with a butler)...
And all the girls in attendance came out of it crying.
I learned these three things that day:

1. Jägermeister fucks me up QUICK.
2. Jäger Bombs are the fucking devil (Chase couldn't stop talking about my blog, and I... couldn't stop talking about my blog).
3. I couldn't have picked a better group of females to call my friends. They're fucking amazing and I'm just upset it took me so long to find them!

Now... even after all this craze and confusion... round two is coming up starting tomorrow... and sweet Baby Jesus, please give me strength to make it through the next week... and then I swear, never again.

I'm allowed to act wild just once in my life... right? What better reason than me saying "Fuck, guys, I totally graduated even after fucking up three classes... I came right back and kicked motherfucking ass!! And NO, I'm NOT going to be a fucking doctor... fuck medical school! I'll die of alcohol poisoning instead." (And no, believe it or not, I did not say that ONCE this weekend... even while intoxicated. Ok... maybe I did say "And NO, I'm NOT going to be a fucking doctor... fuck medical school!" once)
I'll be sweet, designated driver, ex-Catholic School teacher AnoMALIE once again... until I go to London this February and hunt down the Manchester U squad all over England, that is... haaaaa... all bets are off then... ALL bets.

Which reminds me: Merry Christmas (I only got one crappy present this year: an off-teal/grey sweater... with beaded roses all over... that totally screams "I'm a 40-year-old soccer Mom whose husband is totally boning the nanny, but I don't give a fuck because I'm an alcoholic and have a country club membership, and I myself get boned by all the pool boys! Do I need to get some more Botox?" Hot stuff)!!

Hassle with tassels

So I finally know what it is I'm supposed to be doing for graduation.
Well... to the extent which UNLV deemed fit.
We all know UNLV loves to fuck around.

Anyway, the more and more I think about it, the more I just want to fucking flee the city... the country... and skip the graduation (so unlikely to happen. I'm sure Mom would chain me to the bed if she had to, just so she can live vicariously through me and imagine herself being the one picking up the fake diploma on December 21st. I'm so jaded to that shit thanks to high school... I could really give two shits if I go on stage to shake people's hand while dressed in a very unflattering black bag they so humorously like to call a "gown").
Maybe... I'll just buy a tassel as a keepsake:

My four and a half miserable years at UNLV as a biology major.

(I lie... my first year as a bio major, while stressful to a point [you know, thanks to professors constantly reminding you how difficult the subject is and how unlikely it is for you to graduate... and how things come up, yada yada yada], was actually pretty fucking awesome.
Sophomore year would have been equally awesome had it not been for my vomiting issues being magnified thanks to good ol' organic chemistry pre-exam anxiety [vomiting once or twice before an exam had always been normal throughout high school... but 20+ times in one day? Some days I wonder why I refused to go to a doctor and get that checked. That's probably one of the only stereotypes I seem to (seriously) perpetuate for my Latinos])


With all my heart, I just want it all to be over.

Dear God, make me a bird... so I can fly far... far, far away from here...

Damn, Forrest Gump has always been so relevant in my life (and I get Taking Back Sunday's "Twenty-twenty surgery" stuck in my head immediately after. Particularly this part: You're so sensitive, I am, I am a machine [repeat, repeat, repeat]. What my immersion into English music has done to me... ).

Trash digger

While I'm graduating this December, I have yet to tell people (at least in real life I haven't told anyone).

I've been receiving those letters you get from advertising companies where you buy graduation announcements since last year, but each time, they go straight to the trash.

I don't care to let people know I'm graduating... I kind of want it to be a surprise. You know, so when I'm talking to relatives and they ask me when I am finally graduating college, I'll say "Oh, I did that in '07, didn't you hear?"
So they can feel bad for not noticing... because I'm a bitch like that.

Well, last night when I returned from the gym, I saw this on the countertop:

Me: What the hell is this?
Mom: So...
Me: I thought I threw this out... like six months ago...
Mom: So.
Me: So, I don't want any.
Mom: I'm the one buying them...
Me: So? I'm the one graduating.
Mom: So? I want to spend my money on this...
Me: Well... why don't you spend it on something useful... you know... like that one camera I wanted (Just for reference, I want this one:
Mom: I want to spend it on this.
Me: To boast to people that I'm graduating? No thanks. I don't care about letting other people know I'm graduating.
Mom: So why did you go to school all these years?
Me: Oh!! That's riiiiight! I went to college so that at the end of all the vomiting, stressing, and crying I could send out hundreds of little white and red cards to people who don't give a shit about me when free food or drinks aren't in the picture. I had forgotten... I was dumb enough to think I went to school so I could get a biology degree. Oops, my bad.

Mom still bought the damn announcements.

P.S. and totally off-subject: Today, I have fallen in love... with ensaymada. Can you say delicious?! Fucking delicious! Yes... I feel unbelieveably guilty afterwards... but man... oh man... where has it been all my life? (kind of sad that I had to taste it after a funeral of my sister's Filipino friend... but... wow)