Hoebag

A few weeks ago, I was unpleasantly surprised when I dyed my hair.

I had planned to dye it light brown.

Surprise, surprise, my hair turned out RED.

I didn't freak out too much, because it did this ombre thing where my roots were red-ish but the tips were black. The gradation was strange, but I could live with it.

Fast forward to yesterday.

I had a coupon for a certain hair dye. I practically paid nothing, and the brand is a brand I dig. I swore my hair would turn out a little better, a darker brown.

What happens?

I have fucking red roots again and black tips. 

I'm lucky the whole ombre shit is popular right now... because I feel like a complete retard.

Mom: What the heck are you doing to get... such an odd outcome?

Me:... hmmm... well... considering how the hair is turning out... my best guess is that the supplements I've been taking fuck with the dye (I love how I can cuss around this lady, even during Holy Week. My mom has eased up so much recently)... makes it red.

Bonjour, je m'appelle AnoMALIE, et je suis une... scientiste? 

Looks like I'm going to be a redhead for a minute.

I'm trying jet-black next month... maybe that shit will work.

In other news, I have a very sexy cold-sore adorning the lower right side of my lip... and by "sexy" I mean "fucking disgusting, life wrecking piece of shit."

In a perfect world, I'd stay locked in my house, avoiding sunlight until this stupid shit gets off my lips... but my body requires way too many fucking veggies.

I was out of spinach and asparagus, so I decided to make a run for the grocery store.

This lifestyle change has made me LOVE grocery shopping. I enter my own little world and I sit in the produce section for far longer than I must. My mind switches to calm-mode... and I forget about my surroundings.

That happens when I'm at the grocery stores near my house... the white-washed section of the valley.

But see... I REALLY like the stuff they have in the hood... because the healthy bastards in my area eat all the stuff I like, so I rarely find stuff I need... but in the hood, BOY! I find my stuff with a quickness... AND it's cheaper.

So it's a tough choice. It all depends on how much gas I have in my tank.

ANYWAY, today I chose the hood.

Immediately, I noticed a particular character... a character I've never been all too lucky with, they always hate me for no reason, and I don't have the balls to say anything back:

Totally unintentional setting, but when I read it, I laughed to myself like a crazy person.
Only thing fresh on this bitch is... her ass she is so proudly flashing to the world. Breezy down there, homegirl?

We followed each other around the store, buying the same shit.

Things got awkward when we wound up following each other to the same checkout counter-- as I was diligently bagging my own groceries. Chick rolled her eyes at me, but I acted as if I couldn't see anything (mainly out of fear. I don't fuck with that shit).

Right as I was going to walk away, bitch straight up tells her fellow hoodrat:

"Let this fucking hoebag pass."

...

????

What the...

I did not say a word... just felt my chest burn with rage, and walked away.

What gave her the impression I was a hoebag?!

I sat in the car and thought about it... 'cause shit like that can bug me for years.

Was it the fact that I was wearing pants? A black t-shirt?

Than I remembered:

Motherfucking cold-sore!

Add insult to injury, upon closer inspection, I realized I had two white stains (from a melting ice cream cone I was holding a while back) on the black skinny jeans I was wearing... stains being located near my groin area.

Touché, bitch... touché.

Celebrity-dom?

Man... I fucked myself up... man. I have this huge bruise... I've never had such a thing... pretty gnarly. It looks like I got hit by a car or some shit. It's all... man... I have so much blood up on that shit. Ahhhh! (That's just me spazing out) It's not painful... yet. I'm sure I'll be crying about it tomorrow
(Booo... I wanna die! If this is what childbirth is like, F-U-C-K T-H-A-T! etc, etc).
I'm just paranoid right now (Fuck... I better not let my mom see this or she'll forbid me from taking the class again! and Man... aren't bruises like... bad... like... can't the clot move on to the brain and cause some sort of stroke? Oh my God! I'm going to die!!), but that too passes.

Diosito... porfavor no deje que esto me afecte demasiado! Que solamente esté un poquito loquita... eso es todo... porfa!!

Anyway, let's get my mind off blacking out and suffering a stroke for a second (God, that bruise is so horrifyingly disgusting!) and let's talk about my day:

Beginning: I was woken up by Mom at 7:30 AM because she needed to take my phone on her ride over to Caliente, because apparently, only Verizon is available in them there yonder parts o' Nevada (Can you hear me now? No, you fuck, I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere... where prostitution is legal and beef jerky costs eight dollars a slab!). Mom has shitty-ass Cingular, so I had to live without my phone from 7:30 AM till around 6 PM (I never thought I'd be so happy to be a Verizon costumer. I was glad with my unlimited In-texts and In-minutes... and free long-distance... and free nights and weekends... OK, I was overall a very happy customer... but now knowing my phone works in the boondocks makes me that much happier).
Well, I also went to church... where there was some weird stuff going on (people are so weird when in hoards... very, very weird). It was super packed (I hate going Sunday mornings... it's so... I feel claustrophobic) and I got to sit next to 2 kids.
The kid closest to me was a girl around 5, and she kept looking at me and imitating me. I was cool with everything... until she started touching me (no, it wasn't a "bad touch"). Once that started, I made sure ample space was between me and the child, but not enough for another person to sit next to me (so what, I'm a jerk, ok?). I just get bad memories from this one child a couple months back that confused me for his mother. He stood next to me, hugged my leg, and his hand would go higher and higher. I didn't stop the kid when he hugged my leg, I mean, I did the same mistake as a child once (only it was a lady's arm), but once he started getting all... Curious-George-climbing-a-palm-tree on me, I had to pull him off (I'll be fucking damned if I let a 3-year-old molest me!) . When he realized I wasn't his mother, I felt bad for him... because he was genuinely upset... like "OMFG... I'm such a retarded ass perv!" Ok, maybe not like that, but I'm sure he'll look back on it as he gets older and think "Shit... I can't believe I did that..." (I know I look back on the arm-hugging incident and I start wishing for the sand to just... swallow me whole right then and there).

Middle: I went swimming at Chase's house... got burned, but had a good time. I then went to hula-hoop class... and freaking A, I got tore-up! No need to explain more... pictures may follow... if I ever get the cojones to take pictures of the disaster that is my right hip.

End: I went to the grocery store (I took a real nice gulp of a gallon of milk that was due on the 31 of May... NOT COOL). Now, I despise the grocery store... but I was so tired, Mom was able to get me to oblige.
There were these two bastard little kids that were being trouble makers. They each got a can of Cheese Wiz and poured it all over the store. They got ice-cream and left it out in every aisle... I mean, they were just little punk asses.
Nothing else was special, except for the end, where the cashier lady recognized me. I hadn't been to this particular store since... I don't know... February? But she was all up in my conversation.
I was bagging my groceries when the following occurred:
Cashier: Oh!! You cut your hair, Mama!
(Lalala... I hate groceries... lalala)
Cashier: When'd you cut it?!
(What the hell is she talking about? To whom?)
Cashier: I hadn't seen it like this! It looks wonderful!
(Oh... it is me... smile!)
Me: Oh, me? Yeah, I cut it.
Cashier: I love it, Mama!
Me: Aw, well.... thank you.
(Holy hell... how does she remember me?)

She continued asking questions... pretty loud (people were turning over at my aisle and trying to get a glimpse of me)... and I even gave her directions to the hair salon (and the name of my cousin). Of course, I never gave her the tip of: Don't you ever, ever, ever piss off the hairstylist... she'll fuck you up!
Nice lady. She'd never piss off the hairstylist, anyway.
The lady did make me feel like a celebrity for a second.

Maybe this would be my headline, which would in turn make me even more famous/recognizable:
Come one, come all!
AnoMALIE- Circus Freak (with nice hair) who fucks herself up Hula-Hooping with a four-pound hula-hoop! It's siiiiiiiiiiiiiick (positive, AND negative connotation!)!