2015? That shit a typo?

I cringe now that I have to check in with my resolutions from last year.
I think I kept it short... but let's see.

1. Smile more often. I look like a homicidal psychopath when I'm not smiling.
2. Good vibes. Avoid negativity... especially when I am the one emitting that shit. It's not cool.
3. Muscle. I will build some nice muscle and quit being so lax on the diet. I'm old, I need to watch myself.
4. Learn to take a compliment... and more importantly, believe it when someone compliments me.
5. Make an effort to take care of my physical appearance.... there's nothing wrong with being a girly-girl. It's about time I gave a shit about facials and all that shit.

Now to dissect each one.
1. Nope. Still looking like the good ol' homicidal psychopath. I think I may have frowned more this year than previous years. Prior to Athens, I actually had some horrible scowl-lines by my mouth. Athens seriously has some rejuvenating powers, because my skin did some backwards aging out there... acne included. Ha! But seriously, my forehead looks fucking good, and I was over here thinking about Botox... pfft!
Anyway, I failed this one... especially since I can count how many times I smiled January-August using only the fingers on one hand.
Fuck.

2. Goddamn it... failed this one as well. While I wasn't really "absorbing" the negative vibes of others (uh... no, actually, I was... since I was able to feel SO MUCH rage from the actions of others... like the whole July babyshower fiasco etc), I was DEFINITELY in a negative space. I was mean. I angrily glared at people who got too close to me at the gym... ugh... I was odious.
FUCK!

3. OH GOD! NO! FUCKING THIRD ONE IN A ROW! Failure again. Jesus. My arms got buff as fuck... as did my back. I have traps that even men would envy. Everywhere else? BAHAHAHA! NO! No, wait, my abs were pretty badass around February/March. I actually had a sweet four-pack going on. My quads were behaving themselves around the start of the year as well... but uh... all bets were off around September. I INDULGED like a biiiitch. It also didn't help that I acquired a nasty, bothersome injury so early in the year. You really take your metatarsals for granted until you fuck one up and find yourself hobbling all over the place. By December, I let my sweet tooth rule my world. Rome? I ate. Barcelona? I ate. Paris? I ATE. Athens? I was a motherfucking GLUTTON. Athens does this cool thing, where they give you free drinks at the start of your meal, free dessertS (yes, MULTIPLE DESSERTS! Is it obvious why I fucking love the place now?), and then they also give you a dessert shot of liquor. I mean... FUCK! I ate my motherfucking heart out. DEEP-FRIED FETA CHEESE DRIZZLED WITH HONEY, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! JESUS! Ok, sorry, this subject is just so thrilling for me.
Anyway, yeah, failed with this one.
Blah.

4. Hey! I got this one! I'm actually pretty good with compliments now! Woo! This brings me back to this recent Euro-trip. I was terrible at realizing when guys were flirting... I'd catch the drift way after leaving them. "Wait... oh! He said that because... OH! I GET IT!"
I had this moment at the Louvre, where I was cutting it close for Mass at Notre Dame (hey, don't judge me. I was in Paris for the Virgin of Guadalupe's day... she's my homegirl), so I NEEDED to leave the museum if I wanted to make it to Mass on time. I saw a dude, probably early 30's, standing near an exit sign. He was a worker, in a nice suit, with a name tag... so I approached him and asked if that was the way out.
He looked me right in the face (Parisian men have a thing for holding eye-contact which make me a little uncomfortable... it's a freakishly long time which they insist on looking you dead on in the face... examining every last detail about it. It's crazy. I bet they can give pretty accurate description to police portrait artists), smiled... said "As-salamu alaykum," then "Bonjour?" then "hello?" then "hola?" and smiled some more. I asked again, this time in French. "But why would you want to leave? Where are you going?" he asked. "I need to get to Notre Dame before 6:30," I said. The guy got closer to me, smiled, then said "Ah, yes, the exit. I can take you to it, though I'd hate to see you leave..."-- still holding eye-contact with me, looking serious. I panicked, my eyes large as hell, eyebrows up in surprise. "Oh my god! Why?! What's wrong?" I said, thinking I was in trouble for... well, I don't know, it was Paris... they do whatever the fuck they want... I could have been in trouble for wearing blue pants with my red sweater, for all I knew.
The guy's semi-smile turned to a disappointed frown, he straightened his blazer, then said "I really shouldn't be doing this, but, I'll take you through this very special exit. Come along, follow me." And ta-da! exit through the shop. "Have a great time at Notre Dame. Au revoir."
I then jetted over to Notre Dame, and it wasn't until I was in the middle of Mass that it dawned on me that the poor guy was doing all he could to flirt... but it was like flirting with a wall.
He was cute... like a younger version of the actor who plays Littlefinger on Game of Thrones (so I have a thing for that little weasel. Again, don't judge me). I'm just too slow at picking up on flirtatious conversation. "He was trying to flirt? WHY?!"
Stories like that peppered my December trip... I'll probably talk about it later, but enough for now. Point is, while I'm SLOW at noticing when a guy wants to flirt with me (well, when he's not as straightforward as the sickos who do shit like physically GRAB me or do that tongue thing when I walk by [the one where they display how talented they are with their tongue action], as though that ever works with anyone who is NOT a nymphomaniac), but I don't get all worked up when they toss me a compliment. I giggle now... like a teenager. Baby steps.

5. Ummm... this I will consider a failure. From around July until now, I have broken out worse than I ever have... not even my teen years were this bad. I blame my diet for the outbreak. I've been pretty lax about my beauty regimen, usually falling asleep with mascara still on my face and that sort of shit. I did buy retinol to prevent/ease wrinkles back in June... but I have yet to use it. I'm a TERRIBLE girl. Fucking TERRIBLE! Oh! Well, it can't be a complete failure-- I DID get a manicure last month before heading out to Athens... that was mighty girly of me (I then proceeded to remove the gel polish with my teeth two weeks later... even after hearing the nail lady lecture me on the proper removal procedure for a good ten minutes. NOT very girly of me. My nails are wrecked).

Good Lord... 2014 was a massive failure.
My bad.
I knew I should have mentioned something about traveling. I had that shit DOWN! Once again I visited a new country/city for like... my fourth year. That was rad as fuck.

I guess I'll go ahead and do some resolutions.
1. DROP THE FUCKING COOKIES, ANoMALIE! I will go back to my strict "clean" eating (I fucking hate that term). I won't be as much of a nazi about it, though. Slap me if I ever try lecturing you on the "evils" of certain foods. You like sugar/salt/tasty shit and you're happy with your image? Well, shit, that's all that matters (well, as long as you're not acquiring diabetes or any of those health problems). And please, for the love of my sanity, don't try bullying me into eating after I tell you No. Bad things happen when people don't respect my "No."
2. I WILL NOT BE A CUNT! This is what? My 20th year saying this?
3. I will take time-outs. I won't try and act like everything is OK, and allow bad shit to accumulate, only for me to have major melt-downs like I tend to do. If something bothers me or upsets me, I won't subject myself to "roughing it." To "power through." I'll straight call a time-out and just... leave. Chill time... I'll have chill time.
4. DON'T TALK SHIT. Walk away, Holmes, walk away.
5. Don't let trolls get the best of me. I learned there are a good few people in my life who actively seek to rile me up. Why they enjoy this is beyond me... makes me sad FOR THEM... because there are much more interesting things out there to do besides upsetting me... but to each their own. I'll do my best not to give them any satisfaction.
6. My most ambitious move EVER: I'll sell one of my works. I don't know what... but it'll be ANYTHING, for WHATEVER price... just not free. I've sold two photographs in the past, but everything else I've given away for free. I won't specify whether it'll be a short story, or a painting, or a photograph... just anything my two hands have created.

Should I add something relating to my sentimental life?
Nah. I've been good neglecting that aspect for the last few years. That shit always ruins my year... so I'm good just completely ignoring that part of a person's life. I don't need it. I don't use it.
Just like spirituality is something unimportant in the lives of many, "love"/"relationships" is a dead, non-existent part in my life. Period. No use acknowledging it.

2015... AAAAAHHHHH! Is this for real?!
Be good. Please.

12 of 12

12-12-12.
Let's do a top 12 things about 2012, yeah?
1. First few hours of the new year. That was dope.

2. The Costa Rica Trip. Fun!

3. iChatting. Slows the shit out of the phone, but it's so fun.

4. Coffee. I have the craziest addiction to it now. It does my body good.

5. Summer. Crazy summer... where I sort of kind of told Darcy what was up... just not in person because I'm still a fucking idiot.

6. Hometown trip. I needed to recharge my batteries like that.

7. Painting. I painted SO MUCH this year. Good stuff.

8. Nail art. It's finally popular! I've been doing that shit since elementary school and it FINALLY caught on. Now I'm no longer given crazy stares.

9. Chicago... kind of. I mean, I don't give a shit about the city, but those couple of days were entertaining. It was pleasant to have a chill-out sessions with my sister.

10. The treadmill! The purchase of it was an odyssey, but I LOVE that thing. I complain about cardio, but obviously it's a necessary evil

11. EATING! My diet has finally gotten to the level where I can be less strict, and easier to maintain than it was last year... I mean, I can even eat cupcakes and pancakes on occasion now!

12. Peace! I made peace with TWO of the only three people I swore I'd never forgive, my only "enemies" so to speak. That is HUGE. I also SINCERELY forgave my grandfather, on the twentieth anniversary of... well, the summer that fucked up my life. That was the only thing I wanted to do.

And there it is, top 12 of 2012.
Cool thing that I could actually come up with the list.

Arrivederci!

Sums up my feelings to perfection:

Fuck. You.

2012, let's make it a good year.
Resolution time?
Sure, why not:

1. I will work on my road rage-- curbing it, that is.
2. No more barking at people... it's fucking ugly.
3. I WILL bench 150! (I tried while in Chicago, and I left a little "forget me not" on Coconut's concrete basement floor... from where the plates hit full speed when I tossed that shit off me. SO embarrassing)
4. I will squat in the big boy room at the "scary gym."
5. I will not fear carbs. They are my friend. They are my friend. They are my friend.... yeah, not working.
6. I'll smile at least once a day. THAT I can try.
7. I'll make... two new friends. Lowballing the number because I doubt I'll interact with others much this year, though I enjoy this task (even if it initially intimidates the fuck out of me). I love "how I met you" stories... mainly because other's stories of how they met ME start with "I thought you were a bitch." Always pleasant to hear.
8. I'll talk. At least... I'll try... for at least half an hour.
9. I'll smile at minimum two strangers a month. This I find fun, because it's rad to see their face change with delight. It's cool.
10. I'll master the basic pistol (THIS shit right here:  It renders me speechless. I doubt I'll ever be that gracefully strong. Sheesh)
11. I'll be less cynical. Not less sarcastic... ok, maybe just a little... a little less sarcastic.
12. I will not waste a single day laying in bed, sleeping my life away. I did that shit four times this year. That's fucking four times too many.
13. I will forgive without resentment... and I'll trust without... paranoia.
14. I'll be a sweetheart at the gym. I'll forgive the stupid newbies who invade my space... or I'll just give them a gentle nudge with my weights to let him/her know there's more to come if they don't get the fuck out of my way.
15. I. Will. Not. Scream.

I think that's all I can really commit to right now. That's a shit-ton of resolutions... which can all melt down to this: I'll be nicer, I'll be happier, and I'll forgive... and I'll keep beasting.

Con todo, 2012! 'amonos!

The mean year

I always mention this, because it's certainly true in my case: you learn something new every day.

Now, I could make a list of every single new thing I learned this year, but who the fuck would want to read that? Not I, that's for sure. So, I'll try to keep it short... only mention the more prominent shit.

Things AnoMALIE learned in 2011:
* I don't take rejection well.
Yeah. That was a lovely lesson. I should add that I only react poorly when my heart is fully involved. I really wanted this grad school shit... REALLY, not only because it's my true love, but because it was my last ticket out of here. My last ticket to freedom.
Seeing that shit vanish in the matter of a few minutes destroyed me. My wings were clipped.

*Carbohydrates are your friend.
This one too comes with a disclaimer. Complex carbohydrates are my friend... in small amounts. See, carbs are my number one foe... because the moment I chomp on some bread... some beautiful, delicious, wonderful bread... I burst at the seams.
However, the moment I delete carbs from my diet is the moment I start head hunting motherfuckers.
I hate complicated relationships. And I love cupcakes. And I hate people.

*Life does not get better when you lose weight.
In fact, I'd say it gets worse.

*I'm hell of bitter and mean.
Yo. We all know this... but this year even I would take a step back and think "Holy shit, AnoMALIE, that wasn't cool. Chill!" Terrible.

*I love painting!
I had never tried canvas, and duuuuude! I was missing out! I fucking love this shit!

*I will never enjoy taking off, or landing, when in an airplane.
That shit always gets me nervous. I always think the damn plane will explode. This year, I boarded so many damn planes, I was constantly worrying... about the plane exploding... and about possibly suffering an embolism from a blood clot.  This or that, dude.

*Losing your faith... sucks.
That's all I'll say about that.

* I have lost the battle with Bachata. 
This year solidified my fucking fascination with that shit. It's hard to accept, due to my downright hatred of the genre... since I first hear of it back when I was 15. Eleven years to warm up to something... Eh, I'll take it. I give props where props are due, and this genre has some great singers... and their stupid little corny love (wow, enough adjectives there, AnoMALIE? I'd always get busted for that shit, and I'm finally understanding why. But I can't help it) lyrics are sometimes very touching. There. I said it.
Currently, I'm addicted to this song, and each time it comes on the radio (so I have yet to FULLY give in to the point of actually PURCHASING bachata music... though I have transferred a track or two off D's library into my phone) I nearly go deaf from cranking up the volume.

 That song is so gorgeous (shit, even the people IN the video. I don't swing that way, but Romeo's chick is fucking beautiful... I definitely wouldn't mind looking like her. Then there's Romeo and Usher-- I've always had a thing for those two). "Trying to be calm but my chest keeps pounding, Try to swim but it’s like I’m drowning…" fuck yeah, count me in!

*Lift. Heavy.
ROAR!

*If you smile and bat your eyelashes at a dude... he'll usually help you out.
Solid. Took me damn long enough to learn this.

This list is long enough. I'm tired and my nose is running (TMI? I don't give a shit).

Name for this year?
2011: The MEAN Year!

Fuck you, man. Good riddance.

Dar Gracias

So...

I'm sure even a stranger off the street can tell I'm not having the time of my life.

This last year has been... rough, to put it mildly. This last month has REALLY gone to town with the "Well, THAT'S fucked up" department.

But... in my attempt to get up off the floor and quit dancing with the ropes, I'll make a list in honor of today's holiday.

Things I am thankful for:

1. Peanut Butter. You make my life, peanut butter!
2. Bacon. Though I haven't had bacon since May, rest assured that I still adore this delicious food of the gods.
3. Almonds... pecans... pistachios... walnuts... peanuts... pretty much any type of nut. So. Good.
4. Chocolate. Obviously.
5. Flowers.
6. Green grass... not to be confused with weed. I'm not down with that green.
7. Rain.
8. Stars. 
9. Clear, bright skies.
10. Sriracha sauce.
11. Hot peppers. Ranging from Jalapeño to Habanero, Arbol to Ghost... chile completes me.
12. The gym and its trainers. BOY, OH BOY! Have you changed my life this year. CHRIST!
13. My travels. I hadn't thought about all the traveling I did over the year... but shit, I went to a lot of places. It's my... delirio. I adore this activity.
14. Tyson. He's a picky, remarkably stubborn little fucker... but he knows what to do when any one of us is upset. He's the best dog for us. Long live the massively misunderstood pitpulls. 
15. Rafa. What can I say about my broski? We've had our intense fights/arguments... but he's the best brother I could have asked for. I'm happy for the closeness we've acquired this last year... it's pretty noticeable.
16. D. We fight... a lot... especially recently... but we constantly work on our relationship and try to be... sisters. However, she cracks me up. And keeps me company when I most need it. I'm glad that stupid little brat's in my life. I'll still fuck any one up if they hurt her.
17. My parents. Again, I fight a lot with them... but they've been very understanding of my... situation. They have done so much to try to comfort me and make me feel like less of a loser. They give me anything and everything I need/want. They may not be very "traditional" in the American sense... but they are awesome human beings that I love with every little inch of my very-beat-up heart. They're the reason for my heart's first beat, and the main reason my heart continues to beat.
18. My friends. My friends. My friends. I owe whatever is left of my sanity to THEM. I may not have as many as other folks... but my group of friends is by far the most incredible group of people with whom I could have ever dreamed of surrounding myself. They enrich my life, and snap me back into reality when I most need it. They try to keep me from falling too hard into the trenches I dig for myself... and they are always there to lend me a hand when I very stubbornly still decide to roll chin-deep in the muddy trench. They're the yin to my yang... as corny as it may sound... as trite as it may be. This year proved it to me the most (that my friends complete me... not that I'm corny and trite... though I'm sure that's true too). 
19. My family. Well... while this will be the negative bit of this entry, I have to be sincere and clarify: my MATERNAL side of the family. They are... my everything. They put a smile on my face... and hell, even food in my tummy (LOVE IT!). They've always made me feel welcomed and appreciated... and that's something I will always hold close to my heart.

I may not be too full of sunshine recently... but I truly am thankful for everyone and everything that has attempted to put the smile back on my face. I notice... and I do appreciate it... with every ounce of my being.
I'll get better... I promise.

Happy Thanksgiving.

My Miss List

I was stupid and mentioned my trip to Mexico on FB.
So stupid.
Within an hour of posting the status update, we had five people calling the house and asking for favors.

Want to send shit to Mexico? Grow some balls and get on the motherfucking bus/plane/truck to get your ass over there.
I'm risking my neck for MY people, NOT yours.
The only trouble I might face is being at the wrong place at the wrong time... getting caught in one of those cartel battles.
I don't owe people money, I don't buy/sell drugs, therefore, I have nothing to fear.
Why can't people rationalize like that instead of getting carried away by stories (if you're rich, then yeah, I can understand you being a little scared about getting taken for ransom)?

Anyway, I was chewed out by my folks after being thrown under the bus by a stupid ass relative.

Whatever.

I'm struggling now with the packing.
I've been shopping, making lists, all that junk 'cause nothing sucks more than being in Mexico and realizing you forgot to bring your razor.
I love you Mexico, but I'll be damned if I buy toiletries in your country.
It's a fucking drag, especially in the 115 degree heat. 115 degrees... shit, I won't be missing that.

What I will miss?
- Sushi
Especially seaweed salad... damn it, that seaweed salad!
- The internet.
Oh, dear Facebook... how you've helped me through many a sleepless night.
- Tyson.
My poor baby's staying behind. My heart hurts each time I have to go outside and he greets me with a freakin' parade. I can't stand looking him in the eye... he breaks my heart. My BABYYYYY!! He knows he's staying behind. That little guy just makes this face. Reason I love pitbulls finally comes to bite me in the ass: when they're happy, that huge goofy smile can make a death-row inmate melt... but when they're sad... they might as well show me a World Vision commercial... or that damn abused animal commercial with the Sarah McLachlan "Angel" song.
Why are you so expressive?! You're a dog! (My 116-pound, 9 year old "little cow"... :( ok, I need to stop thinking about him before I object to this trip)
- The AC.
Sure, it's 60 degrees most of the time... but when it's hot... I might as well live in the refrigerator.
- Driving.
No car = no trips to the city. I hate asking for favors.
- Jimmy Gym.
Volleyball ain't gonna rescue my ass. Coming home is going to suck. I can already feel the immobility setting in once I return to weight lifting. Blah. Hopefully I don't barf this year.
And sure... why not... because we all knew this was coming:
- Darcy.
After a month of kind of hearing from him once a week or so (totally enough for me to smile at strangers throughout the day like a complete idiot and shit)... it's back to being invisible when it comes to that guy. Woe is me (curse you large soccer events, why can't you last longer than a goddamn month?! Ha).
Bummer, but what can a chick do, right? If there's one thing I've learned, it's that when a dude digs you, he'll let you know. I've seen it time, and time again with my guy friends (and guys I've liked. With me they're like "Eh... alright, I'll listen to you for now." Then they meet a girl that pulls the rug from right under them and it's "Well, thanks... but... gotta go. K, bye" for me)-- the moment they find a girl they like, they can't shut the fuck up about her.
Then the obnoxious animals they don't like will start to agitate them more than usual once they notice that these beasts won't shut the fuck up.
He doesn't bother too much with me, and I run at the mouth when he asks me the simplest question. "Hey, how are you?" "Hey man, I'm great! Dude, so I went to school the other day... because I like school and I needed to go..." blah blah blah. Even I take a second to step back and self-reflect "WTF are you doing, dude?! SHUT UP!" but I just keep going... like a fucking idiot cow into mud.
I do not want to be grouped in the "obnoxious animal" category, so I'll let him be (thing I've tried to learn in the last... almost six years of knowing him... Yikes! How pathetic of me... but what can I say? Everything about him makes me... mush. This trip can help me in the "quit being such an annoying dick, AnoMALIE, and shut the fuck up!" department. Thing I'm sure he will appreciate... shit, A LOT of people will appreciate).

Oh shit, talking about dudes: MGH is a fucking renegade. He "ran away" from home... at the age of 21. He just up and left (with his bitch) after an argument (regarding his cunt and the fact that he now dropped college) with his family, disconnected his phone, and now his family doesn't know where he is. His brother doesn't even know of the drama since he's in Mexico, and MGH still behaves "normally" on FB ("normal" being... responding to the "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" comments from his Mexico friends with "studying." That kid is... so fucked up).

It's really quite terrible. Upon hearing this, I sort of choked up.
'cause whether I like it or not, I still love the kid... not romantically, but... I just love him as a person... as jerky as he may be. 18 years is a long time to know a person and not love them.
I didn't think he was capable of hurting his family like that... especially not for a bitch... but shows how much I know.
I hate that he's fucking up like this.
(Well, what a chirpy way to end this entry. And yeah, I'll miss him in Mexico as well. We have too many memories out there)

Sign of things to come?

Hooray for insomnia!

...

Actually... I pretty much spent the day sort of sleeping today.

New Year's Eve was CRAZY.

Think of the craziest thing you can imagine happening to a REAL person... multiply it by three... and you have my new years.

Fights...

getting barred from a certain casino for life...

being lost in the sea of people with nothing on me but my cell phone...

Being in the same small room as Denise Richards... Having her feel so... awkward that she waves, smiles, and says hello to my group as if we're the celebrities...

Having one of your friends diss the hell out of Denise Richards in front of her face, her managers, her bodyguards, her camera crew... just... sweet God... why? She was so nice to us!

Noticing I have bigger ta-ta's than Denise Richards...

Noticing Denise Richards has a bigger ass than I do...

Did I mention cops and security guards and nasty racial slurs? No? Oh... ok... that.

All you can drink bar...

Getting pinched repeatedly by random guys while walking down the strip (is this the new thing to do? WTF?)...

weed, weed, EVERYWHERE!!

puke...

getting chewed out...

chewing people out...

hour-long wait to get out of a fucking parking garage...

20 year olds grinding on me like... dogs in heat...

frowning...

random kisses...

pictures of getting kissed...

continuously being referred to as "YO, BITCH!!" by... a friend...

having my heart broken by... the effects of alcohol...

gaining a sister :] (I LOVE YOU MOONEY!!!)

15 cops...

bathroom brawls...

embarrassment beyond compare...

europeans... everywhere! :]

"AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE!!" "OI, OI, OI!"

crying...

Man... so much more... but I just... don't want to admit it all.

It sucked.

It was mostly bad.

I came home with the shakes, a sore throat, and I slept 2 hours...

Yeah.

I had sushi for breakfast...

I went to mass at 6PM and slept through it all... including the parts where I'd be standing (busting a "horse," where I'd be woken by the feel of my body swaying)... this only irritated the priest, who gave me the evil eye the entire evening (I was sitting in the 3rd row... so yeah...).

I went to my aunt's house, slept on her kitchen table... her reclining sofa... then her fancy sofa. Each time, her annoying little dog was all over me... biting my nose, hair, fingers, sweater... humping my arm, licking my mouth (errgghh), etc. I was too sleepy to defend myself from that little bitch... just giving up and waking up with dog slobber all over my face, dog hair all over my lovely sweater... wondering why the hell nobody got that damn dog off me as I slept like a narcoleptic all over the house.

Came home and talked to the Bay Area Crew... totally lost any sense of tiredness thanks to their goofy asses making me laugh.

... so now I can't sleep...

again.

'08 in review

January-

Weird times. Weird, annoying times.

Too much praying... too many references to God and Jesus... too many strange visitors.

I was left siblingless...

Couldn't have passed any slower... even with the help of Guitar Hero.

February-

That whole Hepatitis C scare bullshit... man!

I purchased my Euro-trip tickets...

Things were gonna be alright :]

March-

Lonely, quiet birthday... with nothing... and I mean NOTHING.

I LEFT!!!

I visited places I had only dreamed of before!

I LEFFFFFFFFFT!

April-

I met the love of my life: Barcelona!

I went to my first soccer match... to see some of the world's greatest players... to cheer with some of the craziest fans... and I got to boo Barcelona and cuss to my heart's content!

I cried my ass off when I had to COME BACK.

I came back... :[

May-

Saw my siblings come back from the old continent.

Prepared for one of my best friend's weddings.

Slowwww time.

June-

The wedding... that horrible time.

Not subjecting myself to that shit ever again.

Left for Mexico... scared as fuck... hoping I don't die.

Time goes by EVEN SLOWER.

July-

What can I say?

::sigh::

Too much Guitar Hero...

Too much day dreaming...

Too much drinking...

singing disney songs at the top of my lungs at gas stations...

WEDDINGS!

Threats...

Bloody scars and  STILL danced

Too much makeup

Too much fun

August-

From the get-go, DRAMA.

Fights...

nasty words...

tears...

Getting deleted from Myspace and Facebook...

awkward silences...

Loneliness

saying goodbye

too much fucking heat!

Walked the strip one too many times!

road trips that were 10+ hours long... I'm shocked I didn't get that one illness... or died.

the bayyyy!

September-

THE BAYYYY! 

Laughed until it hurt

Made peace with one of the parties involved in the giant August argument.

Fell in love... with everything.

Smoked... yeah... but not anything illegal... but never again.

Lied... a few times... haha

October-

Drama... again.

The suite party...

Reciprocating the lovely gesture from the Bay area kids I so love and adore... haha.

More walking of the strip... gahhhh

FIGHTS...

more tears...

humiliation...

heart break

anger

That stupid massage night that was the final straw ::crack::

November-

The definition of drama... seriously.

Heart break beyond belief.

More fighting... big time.

Ripping someone off my friendship list... more like two people... for good.

Betrayal... hardcore.

Crying... sobbing so loud, even I got annoyed with myself.

Insomnia...

I was a hermit

anger

confusion

December-

decided enough was enough... let him go... that hurt.

Grandpa went crazy... we're told he's gonna die... so now we prepare ourselves for the end.

Dad's place gets robbed.

Our lives get threatened.

No more Mexico.

I make peace with the girl I said I'd never mention again... we're friends again... and wow... it feels good. I feel stupid for being angry so long.

My heart still hurts... metaphorically.

I'll never trust again.

Plans for the future are made... I have dreams and aspirations once more... with NO GUYS involved... NO MORE ROMANCE. FUCK. THAT. SHIT.

Here's to a great 2009!

I'm stoked!

Weekend that wouldn't end.

More observations (hey, I feel no need to write actual posts... you know... with grammar and all that shit... for now. I'm tired and still cranky... trying to solve a bunch of fucking stupid problems I SHOULDN'T be having at this age) made Friday through Monday.

1. If ever approached by a guy holding a camera who asks to take a picture, DON'T feel guilty about saying NO.
(On Saturday, while at the wedding, I noticed this short guy-- not bad looking or anything... just not my style, since I feel no sense of attraction for a dude who looks like a 5 foot 4 rehabbed "cholo"-- kept taking pictures of me. At first I was like "Whatever... I'm sort of in the way... what the fuck ever... just look away." After the FIFTH time he came to my table to say "Let me take a picture of you guys" to my folks, I started getting uncomfortable-- I went as far as pushing my chair back to make sure he was taking a picture of ONLY my parents... to which he stepped back and STILL got a picture of me... stalker. Things only got worse once I found out the guy was the groom's younger brother--and by younger, I mean "he was probably 35..."-- and so, I was sort of forced to be nice to him. At the end of the night, he came up to us AGAIN, then asked me and my sis if he could get a picture [this was after he spent the entire day getting pictures of me from all angles... seriously... like... no joke]. While I felt urged to grab his camera, smash it on the floor, and stomp on it repeatedly as I screamed "STOP IT! ENOUGH, ALREADY! I'm not a celebrity!!" I smiled, leaned in to my sister and said "Sure..." God... I'm too nice)

2. DON'T MAKE ME SLEEP IN A CAR IN THE PARKING LOT OF A MOTEL!!!!!!
(I cried from 3 in the morning Saturday, until 8:30 AM of the same day. Yes, I was hormonal... and missing My Guitar Hero... but I was furious at the thought that my parents have POOR planning skills... and by "poor" I mean "SHIT")

3. I'm going to be a terrible cougar....
(umm... who would have guessed it... I still have a thing for dudes that are at least 2 years my juniors... how gross... but I can't help it!! We have so much in common!... and he has purdy lips... and eyes... and eyebrows... and hands... and... blah blah blah)

4. Bands are ruined when one member falls for the other...
(we were gold-starring on expert and everything... Damn it, AnoMALIE, always ruining a good thing!)

5. Sonoma Valley is expensive... and ugly... in the summer.
(so dead... everything was dead)

6. Egg rolls, while tasty, make a car smell horrendously after 5 hours... after 9, it's straight up the smell of death.
(we were too cheap/nice? to throw away the platter of egg rolls MGH's mom made for us)

7. Never, never, never, never, never EVER go on two long road trips with only one day of "rest" in between.
(First, we do the whole Mexico-to-Vegas 21 hour long road trip on Wednesday. Then Thusrday morning we start doing the whole "Vegas Tour" for MGH up until 1 in the morning. Then, Friday afternoon, we head out for the 10 hour ride up to Sonoma Valley.... then Saturday we party it up at a wedding... then Sunday morning we head to San Francisco... once there... we talk it up with relatives we haven't seen in 7 years... go to bed at 2:30 in the morning, get up the next day, drive down to Bakersfield... talk to more relatives for two hours... then back to Vegas. Fuck that... and notice how I don't mention "shower" anywhere on that list. SICK.)

I'm tired... and sad... and a little angry [just a little].

FYI

Random thoughts I get thanks to the shit I've experienced so far:

1. If you're going to be sleeping in the same room as I am, PLEASE DON'T hover over me, stand at the foot of my bed (or the side) and stare at me as I sleep. That shit is NOT cool, I wake up alarmed, and I scream... okay?
(I say this because the night of the wedding, I came home at 5 in the morning, tried going to sleep at 6, then woke up scared shitless thanks to my grandma standing too close to my bed, staring into my face. I screamed "WOW!" and clinged to the wall like a cat. This isn't the first time people do this to me... they have a knack for it)

2. Nineteen year old boys, while cute and all that shit (like the fact that it's flattering to know they are crushing on you and whatnot), are fucking immature... don't forget that.
(Last night I was so fucking frustrated... I wanted to strangle the kid. Yeah, he's cool when he wants to be... but fuck me if I don't want to choke a bitch when he gets all irritating like yesterday)

3. Too much i-pod makes AnoMALIE a sad, sad girl.
(Minnow, your little collection of music has made me so damn bummed out!)

4. I need my vitamins, I always forget shit... like the rest of this post.

It only takes...

... an hour to go pick Dad up from the hospital, then drive back home at 8 in the morning (stupid morning traffic!).

... a day for Dad to stop parking behind me. (I guess my screams of rage along with me almost breaking the front door proved that point. You won't like me when I'm angry... [I'm SO watching that movie next Friday. Mmmm... Edward Norton...])

... two days in a row of Twiggy coming over and talking non-stop from 2 PM 'til 8PM to get me to leave TravelinDin's room and begin the arduous task of cleaning up my room. (Twiggy is so fucking annoying... when I heard she was coming over yesterday afternoon [for the third straight day], I didn't even greet her. I just ran to my room, plugged in my i-Pod and started cleaning away. I worked from 3 PM until 10 PM and I only managed to "clean" a fourth of my room. It's that BAAAAAAD. I'm a shame to Mexican girls, really)

... four days for Dad to stop sleeping with his bedroom door wide open. (TravelinDin and I accomplish WAY more when we work as a team. How did we accomplish this? Why, by talking loudly, laughing loudly, washing the dishes loudly, listening to the television loudly, fighting loudly... you get it... we were just plain loud after 8 PM... aka Dad's bedtime. You can only take two loud girls for so long... two loud, Mexican girls... I'm surprised he held up for so long)

... a week for Dad to leave us home alone as he visit California relatives. (effective tomorrow. Thank you, Lord)

Learning

(Yesterday after church, waiting outside for Mom to come out, my mom's sister hugs me after seeing me for the first time in a month)

Aunt: AnoMALIE! You lost weight!
Me: Really? (internally) It's only been a month... how the hell did that happen?
Aunt: Yeah... your face is like... your cheeks are caved in... your head's longer.
Me: Oh... well... thanks.

Sweet way to put it, I say. I now know where I get my (lack of) eloquence. Ha!

Anyway, at US customs at LAX, the immigration officer in charge of letting me back in the country asked me one question before stamping my stuff:
Officer: Italy... Spain... England... France... interesting places you visited. What did you learn?
Me: (internally) Fuck... think fast... tell the truth... don't... I was supposed to learn something? (spoken) That the French are RUDE.

The officer stoically goes about looking through my passport and reading my declaration of things I'm importing.

Shit... is he of French ancestry? Fuck! I must have pissed him off... way to go, AnoMALIE... way to put your fucking foot in your mouth... Now you're going to get checked and you only have an hour to get to your gate!

Officer: How about Italy?
(I read his badge. Officer Stewart. Great, what kind of fucking name is that? What are you, white man?!)
Me: Nicest people I've ever met.
Officer: Spain?
Me: ... well... they're my ancestors...
Officer Stewart: So they're good people by default.
Me: Isn't that the way it works?
Officer Stewart: And England?
Me: Loved it... absolutely amazing. My favorite place.
Officer Stewart: Thank you Ms. Dos Santos, welcome back.

As I waited for my flight time to come, and as I flew (and wasn't too busy cursing the day those fucking bachelor party guys' parents met), I kept wondering:
What did I learn?

Here's what I've come up with so far:
- I like the idea of a metro system (although, we all know if that existed here, people would fuck it up ASAP)
- I am a total nature freak... ok, that sounds harsh... more like, I enjoy nature way more than the average bear.
- Green fields relax me.
- I'm totally blessed... and not to sound conceited or anything, but God really, really likes me... like... he takes care of me more than I give him credit for (so many stories I have regarding the many ways I could have died, but didn't... because of something more than sheer "luck").
- European old people, especially Spanish old people, are freaking adorable and super nice! I love them!
- I'm popular with old men... and no, I'm not talking men 10-15 years older than me, I'm talking 35+ years... like... old people. They think I'm so freaking fantastic and amusing... they make me feel like a star. I was born in the wrong generation, damn it.
- Europeans cuss a lot. I love it.
- Given the choice between eating or cleanliness, I will ALWAYS choose cleanliness (ex. pay 8 Euros to eat somewhere, or 15 Euros for detergent, I will ALWAYS choose detergent. I'll just... eat... leaves or something for the next couple of days...)
- I never fully appreciated America's beauty. While I don't really care for architecture in America, nature here is awesome... and I miss it when I'm away (I'm talking ALL of America, not just the US).
- I never knew I liked sandstone so much...
- I take water for granted.
- American tourists are the fucking stupidest tourists ever. So fucking ethnocentric and retarded... they made me ashamed to be American most of the time. By "American" I mean "United States."
- US people are really disliked in Europe... like... really disliked. I've never been so glad to be "Mexican-American." Most of the time, I just said I was "Mexican."
- I really HATE drunks. I despise them... and the nastiest part of me comes out whenever I'm criticized for not drinking... I get MEAN.
- I don't drink (here I though I'd drink it up while away from the folks... but no... I just don't participate in that activity. What a relief).
- I get really offended by people who aren't willing to help. I get driven to tears. I'm such a pussy.
- I'm too emotional.
- It doesn't take much to make me happy.
- I can see the beauty in almost anything.
- A ton of my... well... customs... come from Spain... and it makes me very happy when I realize each one... even the bad ones.
- I love my siblings... love them a lot.

The list may go on... cause dude, did I learn things!

End of the year awards, season 1

Last day of the year, so I might as well type up some sort of end-of-the-year list.

I'll do it on the best and worst of 2007:

Best of AnoMALIE's 2007:
1) I joined a gym.
(Not only that, but I stuck with it. I'm now an addict of weight lifting, squats, lunges, and feeling the burn on my triceps. I like yoga... but I still giggle a bit at the thought that I'm supposed to feel something other than... a good stretch. I'll never be a good yogi. I also like the kickboxing classes, but I decided to go easy on that for a while because I could have sworn I'm going deaf[er] with that loud ass techno music blaring for an hour and a twenty minutes. I have FutureDentist Friend and Chase to thank for my membership... they peer pressured me long enough for me to finally say "Fuck it, let's do this thing!" My eternal thanks to them. I'm a new person thanks to them... a new, endorphin-addicted person, thanks ladies!)
2) I graduated.
(This one encompasses everything that came along with it. I left UNLV. I left Biology. I get to relax. Yeeeah! I proved a ton of bastards wrong by not getting pregnant, not dropping out, not becoming an alcoholic [am I turning into one now that school's out? Nah. I just drank for a week, but I quit that shit], and just sticking to my guns and completing what I set out to do. Don't ever tell me I can't do something... I'll prove you wrong then dig your fucking bigoted nose in your own shit. :) I also received the most amazing graduation present ever... thinking I wasn't going to get it when I asked. I'll visit London and Madrid... Manchester and Bilbao... shit, I might even get to travel to my family's home town of Malaga. I'll finally see Manchester play live... and I'll get to scream my heart out at Cristiano Ronaldo. I'm stoked... I feel better than I would have felt if my parents would have actually given me that pony I asked for back when I was 6... it's an unbelievable feeling. Things are finally going a little bit my way. I finally get to take a breather... and live for once without the worry of having to get the grades in school. Let us hope I don't go crazy not knowing what to do with myself now that I don't have school to stress me out)

And as hard as I may try... those are the only two things I can think of that were positives in the year 2007.

Worst of AnoMALIE's 2007:
1) My family stumbled upon a gold mine.
(I won't go into details about this... as it makes me uncomfortable. People would think getting bank, the crazy amount we got as well as the crazy way in which we acquired it, would be nothing but good news. Not so. Biggie Smalls had a point when he said "More money, more problems." The manner in which people turn on you, and how quick it all happens, is astounding.)
2) My maternal grandfather died.
(I understand people die. I understand he lived a long, fruitful life with his 86 years... however... so much was left unsaid. I never apologized... I never asked for an explanation... and the scars remain. I didn't think his death would affect me in the manner it did... I thought everything would be solved with his death... I hated him so much, I thought I'd stop hating and be released of feeling anything once he died. But the opposite occurred. I became discombobulated. I cried too much. It was too much work to get up in the mornings sometimes. The remorse wouldn't let me smile. Shit... to this day, sometimes the remorse attacks me out of the blue. I hate him. I love him. I miss him. I feel relief of some sort knowing I won't have to fake respect for him when I go to Mexico. Relief in knowing I won't hear another embarassing story of what he's been up to since I last saw him. And then I feel bad about feeling like that. However, the damage is done... and I have to learn to live with it... make do with what I have. Fuck. Grow up, AnoMALIE.)
3) My father was diagnosed and treated for colon cancer.
(I spent months cheering my mom up after her dad died. Once Dad was told he had cancer... I freaked... and I could tell Mom became worried for us. I don't want them to lose their father too. It was tough being strong for Dad... acting like I wasn't worried and telling others they were stupid for ever being worried about anything going wrong. I hated being the one taking him to his appointments... and then putting on a front about "Oh! That's great!! You're going to be fine!" each time the doctors would say something that would worry the shit out of me. I hated holding my tongue around my brother. I hated keeping Dad's problem a secret from Older Brother. It was a hassle to go around telling everyone to please be quiet about my Dad so that Older Brother wouldn't find out.
Once Dad was operated, a new problem arose. The flocks of people... my Dad's complaining... his HORRIBLE case of paranoia. Geeze, I'm still dealing with it now.
And seriously, while I love God and Jesus and I'm comfortable [FINALLY] with my religion, I don't want to be lectured on any of the above for the next twenty years!! PLEASE!! Please, if you're going to mention thanking Jesus/God for my father being fixed, PLEASE go through the trouble of praying for, and thanking, the surgeon who fixed my father. If it weren't for that man, I probably would have driven to San Fransisco and jumped off the fucking bridge... or kept it even closer and just driving to Hoover Damn and jumping to my death. That man was so patient and explained things so calmly, I'll be indebted to him for life. "Gracias a Dios!" Yes, thanks be to God... but also for the man who did the dirty job of cutting Dad open correctly)

While there were plenty of honorable mentions for Best/Worst things that occurred this year, that's all I care to write about, really.

I think this year ranks in my top 5 for WORST EVER. Right up there with the year I found out Altar Boy impregnated that whore in 2001, and that one year where I seemed to be my "best friends" punching bag back in 1994.

May 2008 be one of the most amazing ever.
Resolutions (if any) tomorrow.

Happy New Year's Eve!

A little louder next time!

The five minutes leading up to the time I leave my house to the gym have to be the worst.

That's when the devil on my shoulder starts saying
"No... don't go. Look! America's Next Top Model is about to get AWESOME!"
or
"Hey, Little Sister wanted to go out for that one bacon melt at... was it Wendy's? Why don't you go... she says it's good."

Most often, I don't listen (I'll only listen if my body says "one more sudden move and this knee goes buh-bye!") and force myself out of the house.

Once at the gym... I'm actually a happy camper.
The things I overhear sometimes are just so damn good, no Survivor: China episode would make up for it.

Here's a small list of my favorite things overheard at the gym:

1) But my vagina isn't as flexible as... (I was yawning at the time, but that woke me up PDQ)
2) So I told him "Boy, I am NOT going to be doing this shit with you. You go and be a little slut. Just come back to me when you want to get married and have babies!"
"So did he come back?"
"No... he's still being a little slut. I don't care. I just want to get married and have babies"
(I wish I could imitate the accent this guy was talking in... but I'm very bad at imitating the "Gay Latino" accent)
3) They only had 'shrooms at the party... so I left.
4) Coolest Instructor EVER: Look, class! Tom got his very first tattoo!!
(late 40's-early 50's, pale white guy flexes his left bicep to the class. A new, kind of greenish arm-band tattoo decorates his sort of flabby bicep)
Early-30's Girl Beside Me: What a pussy.
5) (woman on her phone, setting up right next to me and talking loudly)
Did you check the pantry?
(pause)
What do you mean, "Why the pantry?"! That's where she was last time!

And my all-time favorite comment:

That ghetto hood-rat bitch stole my water!!!

I know! I too am shocked it didn't come out of my own mouth! It was actually this very funny gay guy who could have so taken on the girl who stole his water bottle. Instead, he stood there in front of maybe 15 of us and screamed while pointing at the leper who was giggling out of the gym with his water bottle.

You're a muscular male Body Pumper, and you're telling me you can't take on an out-of-shape female Street Jammer?! Why do you even show up?

AnoMALIE 101

So I realized the post dedicated to my brother marked my one-hundred and fiftieth entry.
I had originally prepared a "special" post to occupy that space (I've had this saved on my flash drive since 2005 when I did it as an exercise to come up with short-story plot lines--uh-oh, I just gave up one of my strategies-- I just tweaked it up for 2007) but I guess it'll have to settle for post number one-hundred fifty... third?

It's the first day of October... the nightmare month of September is over... and now I probably won't have to write anything for the next week! (Yey! Hooray!)
This shit should keep you busy. Enjoy!
(This should also eliminate the need for you to ask me any more questions... ever. J/k)

An entry level course (ok, maybe it's just 101 factoids) on the subject that is AnoMALIE:

1. I was born on a Friday night… March 1st. For Catholics, that day is known as "El día del Señor de los Guerreros," aka the day of the patron saint of the warriors. That explains a lot.

2. During my earlier years of life, there was a bit of confusion when it came to my actual birth date. Some family members swore up and down that I was born February 29th-- no matter how much I explained to them that leap year had occurred the year PRIOR to my birth.

3. I'm a born and raised Las Vegan. I've lived my entire life here.

4. Well, except for 6 months which I lived in Mexico… some very unfortunate events led me there i.e. Dad was fired, parents were broke, I was 7, so we left to my folk's Mexican hometown. I ended up going to school there for a while. Worst 6 months of my life… I got slapped with a ruler one day because I had dirty hands after recess. Crappy rule I wasn't aware of until that day.

5. Some very fortunate events led Dad to become a very blessed entrepreneur… and so… we're no longer broke, to say the least… and if given the opportunity, I'd study in Mexico again (UNAM!!).

6. Oh yeah, I'm Mexican. Well... not 100% since I was born in Vegas, but I always find that I refer to myself as "a Mexican" rather than a "Mexican-American" or "Chicana" (forever a gangster term in my head) or even "American." I really have to TRY in order to say I'm an American.

7. I didn't sleep in a bed-- much less have my own room-- until I was 14. From the moment Mom removed me from the crib (once Little Sister was born) I was forced to sleep in the living room on this very uncomfortable sofa bed. This grew to be a problem once I entered middle school and I’d have assignments where I had to describe my room. I was always embarrassed to admit I didn’t have a room to call my own… or to even share, for that matter.

8. I need to hug something as I sleep due to the fact that I always had my little sister up on me as we slept while growing up. She was scared of the sounds of the ghetto (and who am I kidding, so was I. I'm not too fond of gun shots and shouting) so she'd hug on to me and I was too nice to tell her to get the fuck off me.

9. The thing I usually hug on to at night is a Pound Puppy (named Coby) Dad brought me when I was 2 (my brother got one too). The dogs came in these boxes that made it look like they were in the pound. My bro and I didn't like that, so we got Mom's wooden meat tenderizer and smashed the shit out of the boxes. That left Coby homeless, so I had to carry him everywhere. He now travels with me everywhere. I can't sleep without him near.

10. I also used to require the sound of the television to sleep. This goes back to my ghetto days, when Mom would have to sit in the love seat next to my sofa bed each night before I went to bed… and the television sound would help drown out the sirens... screams… car alarms… you know, sounds of the hood. It took a while to get accustomed to sleep in silence.

11. My first language was Spanish, but my first English word was spoken at the age of three. The lucky word was "Fuck" and I even made a song about it. I bet that didn't come as a shock to you.

12. Mom's a Catholic and Dad's Pentecostal. This has made me very tolerant of other people's beliefs (or lack thereof)… but I will make fun sometimes. In regards to my views, I'm Catholic... kind of a bad one, but still a Catholic… and I don't enjoy people's attempts to convert me to anything else.

13. I rarely take communion, and it's even rarer when I go to confessionals. Why? Because this ex-priest of mine loved chastising me... he was mean. The man once told me I was going to prison during one of my confessions. I felt horrible... I was speechless... and confused. What the hell was his problem? I only said I sometimes wished bad things to happen to bad people... like for them to lose their hair!

14. I have this… weird habit… where I suck my bottom lip while caressing my earlobe (I also can't help but touch other people's earlobes sometimes. I see some that have this… look to them and I have to touch. And no, this doesn't mean I like others touching MY earlobes). I've been doing that since I can remember. For this little habit of mine, I blame the fact that Mom never gave me a pacifier as a toddler.

15. I was petrified by the thought of the end of the world and/or aliens as a kid. I still get terrified by movies with those two subjects. I'll have nightmares and I'll probably cry if I put much thought into it. I have Dad and his brother to thank for this phobia. They talked about it 24/7, 365 in the early 90's. Dad still loves mentioning the end of the world whenever he sees something on TV about tsunamis, earthquakes, incurable diseases, gay rights, etc.

16. The men I'm typically attracted to tend to be shorter than me. I blame Freud for that (you see, while my dad is almost six feet tall, the man who raised me when I was a kid is my mom's bro, who's a shorty like Mommy).

17. I'm ONLY 5'8"... so you see where my problem lies (the guys will be hardcore shorties!).

18. I asked a sophomore to Senior Prom. God… the trauma that ensued. It took me around three years to recover from all the drama that really stupid decision led to… but now I can really laugh about it.

19. For a painfully shy girl, I’m pretty gutsy when it comes to approaching guys I like. I have no clue why that is, but man, do I wish I could get rid of this trait.

20. I failed my driving permit exam the day of my Senior Prom (it was the second time I took the exam. The first time I passed it—to get my permit—but I just let my permit sit for a year, so I had to renew my permit and that's when I failed).

21. Upset does not do justice to how I felt that day (May 10th, 2003)… Hell. No. I spent the day crying in a bathtub while listening to Christina Aguilera as the rest of my family was at a Sweet 16 party and my friends were at Prom. Shitty day. Shit, shit, shitty!

22. I got my first kiss at age 6, by a 6-year-old boy who was a first cousin to my first cousin, but he was not related to me (he went on to become a drug addict, went to rehab, got engaged, became a drug addict again, broke his engagement, then became a drug dealer).

23. One of my ex-boyfriends went to jail for murder (so I guess I have a thing for bad boys). I loved the kid… he was awesome… but he tried too hard to get others to like him. He got me out of trouble with many female gangsters that hated my guts because I was a "nerd," and he was never, ever, ever mean to me.

24. I'm terrified of commitment because I don't enjoy getting hurt. I'll do anything to avoid it, so I prefer to stay alone. How long I'll keep that up I have no clue… but I'm getting used to solitude.

25. My heart was broken the most severely back when I was in tenth grade by a guy I had loved since fourth grade.

26. I left him because he impregnated a whore... no, not an actual one, just a sleazy ass bitch, on Valentine's day 2001. Prior to that event, I would have married him, really, at the drop of a dime... but betrayal like that is unforgivable.

27. The pain of losing this imbecile lasted from 2001 until 2005… I would crush on guys… but sadly, they were never on the same level of attraction as this retard.

28. When I first saw him holding his baby, with his baby's momma at his side, I passed out. That's what I do when I'm very upset/angry, I pass out… like a narcoleptic.

29. My last "boyfriend" was a Greek dude who supposedly had it bad for me. I detest the phone, but for those couple of months I was with him, I couldn't drop it (I would even willingly listen to him rap to me. What the fuck was wrong with me?).

30. The Greek dude was sweet at times. He even made me a mix CD of hip/hop songs (ewwww). He ruined the relationship once he threatened me over the phone ("Give me one reason not to hurt you…" was all he said. I immediately changed my mailbox to say "Fuck you, mother fucker!" never to answer his calls again) because I was too busy to answer him ASAP. I guess he didn't know that I have ZERO tolerance for any sort of violence in a relationship. ZERO.

31. I'm a Manchester United (mainly), UNAM Pumas, Barcelona, Mexico squad, and Portugal squad soccer fan. Holler!! I follow most sports… just not hockey or rugby (I tried getting into rugby, but that shit's brutal! Hockey just bores me).

32. I have an older brother. He's the reason I like sports, play sports, and get along with guys. But we fight a lot... I guess that's only because he's 17 months older than me… it's like an unwritten law that you have to fight with someone that close to your age.

33. Older Brother graduated basic training from the Army on September 13, 2001. We drove to Fort Sill for his graduation on September 11, 2001 (and the entire trip I spent it reading George Orwell's 1984 as a school assignment). I felt like I was on valium the entire time I was there. I think back to those days and they still feel so… hazy… in slow motion... and unreal. I've never been so scared, sad, proud, excited, and happy at the same time.

34. George Orwell's 1984 hold a special place in my heart… a book has never had such a profound effect on me, and I doubt another one ever will.

35. I hate politics. I love history. Does that make me boring?

36. I have a younger sister who is two and a half years younger than me and she's your typical younger sibling: pretty, spunky, and attention calling… which makes me your typical moody middle child.

37. I've never been too comfortable around my little sis because family has always gushed over her, while they just ignore me as if I were made out of wood. That used to hurt at first… now it's just annoying. It also makes it very hard for me to take compliments well. I always think people are being ironic, cynical, fake... or just assholes. Oh well.

38. I've taught catechism at a well-known Catholic school on Saturday nights since I was 14.

39. My Saturday nights are eternal and lonely... I wonder why I haven't tried drugs yet.

40. I used to be a Raver from 8th grade till... 12th... but hard core in 10th grade. I was annoying... wore big pants... weird hair... lots of bracelets… the works. In the summer of 2000, I found a really hot, very smart, and very sweet DJ called Victor... to whom I lied to by telling him I was a year older because he was 5 years older than me. I was best friends with him until he became engaged to a Low Rider Magazine model.

41. I strongly believe in karma.

42. For some reason I am unaware of, many a female waitress/server/fast food worker has hit on me. They've paid for my meals, given me 75% off on meals, or just extra free desert out of nowhere... while winking at me. I have nothing against homosexuals or bisexuals... but I don't swing that way.

43. I have been accused of being gay/bi because I don't make a big deal when it comes to meeting guys/dating guys/being with guys and I also don't really like hanging out with "girly girls." I don't even try to defend myself anymore. Think what you like, assholes.

44. My first pets were three bunnies when I was in 7th grade. One was straight, one was bi, the third was hardcore gay. They were the noisiest creatures ever.

45. Talking about gay (I kid)... I've gone to 3 Backstreet Boys concerts. Last one being the summer of '05 (so sue me, bitch).

46. I used to be madly in love with AJ McLean. Now I'm just madly in love with Cristiano Ronaldo. I'd do him anytime, anywhere… he's… MmMmm.

47. I have never met a celebrity. My sister has met Ludacris, Nas, Keifer Sutherland, O-town... and various Spanish bands (even Ricardo Arjona!). Me: none. What I do takes skill in this city.

48. My first concert was the New York Philharmonic back in eight grade.

49. I was a latchkey kid. My siblings and I never messed with the stove or opened the door to strangers… or relatives for that matter. I blame my inability to cook on this whole "You can't touch the stove while I'm away" rule of my childhood days. I still don't open the door, even if they ring the doorbell. Old habits die hard.

50. I peed my pants in 1st grade during reading time... I was wearing shiny, purple SPANDEX at the time. I took that incident like a man and didn't cry. I just acted as if my classmates were the ones with the problem and waited for Mom to come to school with a fresh pair of pants. I never wore Spandex again.

51. I was beat up in 4th grade on a daily basis.... the bullies were supposedly my friends and I was taught to never swing at a friend. Someone should beat me up now for being such a dickhead back then. But thanks to this, I'm distrusting of everyone… and I swing back if anyone ever touches me.

52. For some reason, short girls and Latinas always pick fights with me. No idea why that is... I'm a damn gentle giant!

53. Two people got killed in front of my old house... on different occasions. There were many more killed around the neighborhood, I'd see them on my way to/from the bus stop. I'd just walk around the dead bodies in the morning on my way to school like all the other kids. This only happened because I lived in an area known as Meadows Village aka "Naked City" since birth until I was 14.

54. I saw a pimp slap his hoe while screaming "Bitch, where's my money?!" when I was in 4th grade and waiting for the school bus... very, very funny... very, very sad, and nothing like how it's depicted on T.V.

55. I was obsessed with gangsters from age 9-14.

56. I can no longer keep track of how many of my elementary school/middle school friends have had babies... or gotten married… it makes me sad each time one of them succumbs to adulthood. A little piece of me dies.

57. I'm very random (I've been told I make weird correlations) and my mind wanders often.

58. I donate my hair every two years or so. I grow it out and then snip it off. This usually causes a stir in my extended family because (they're Mexican, and...) they hate short hair and I get comments like "Why'd you do that?! I loved your hair before, it was so pretty!" Pisses me off just a little... why the hell wasn't I informed my hair had fans PRIOR to cutting it all off?

59. I think saving yourself for marriage is a waste. Men don't do it… so the double standard really pisses me off… plus… most guys don't even appreciate/deserve such a thing.

60. That being said, I'll confess a deep, dark secret (relax, it's not that serious): I'm a virgin (so I guess this makes me a better Catholic than I thought), but no, not because I'm saving myself for marriage (maybe not such a great Catholic after all). Someone call Ripley's… a virgin in Vegas! Actually, no, don't do that… there are people out there who'd try to sacrifice me to volcano gods.

61. And ta-da!! AnoMALIE is yet to become pregnant or contract an STD (one of the reasons I've held off for so long… I hate the damn "promiscuous Mexican girl who gets knocked up at a young age" stereotype. No one's calling me a hoe!)... not even a cold sore. However, don't get it twisted. Just because I don't participate in the game doesn't mean I don't know how it's played (remember, I have an older brother and a ton of male cousins. I've heard/seen some shit I wish I hadn't). I've done my homework... not much can make me blush.

62. I always said that if I hit the age of 30, and was still unmarried, I'd have a kid. I no longer think that'll happen. I don't want to be responsible for messing up a kid like that.

63. I am sarcastic... very... to the point where I can annoy... and I try to refrain from doing so... but it's so hard!

64. I registered as a democrat even though I am very conservative. However, I see myself as a moderate… and I vote every chance I get (my polling station's at a fire station… it's a damn treat each time I vote).

65. The treadmill and I have a love/hate relationship. I love it for a while... but then I forget it exists... hence why I'm a yo-yo dieter... or... is it... exerciser?

66. I have some sort of social anxiety. I hate being in social events for too long, even church.

67. I wring my hands, tear my lip, and tear up my fingers when nervous… oh, and let's not forget vomiting.

68. I stopped eating like a normal person back in seventh grade… and I entered the realm of anorexia my freshman year of high school (but not to the extent that these runway models have taken it! God, no!). Nowadays, you cannot tell for shit that I was anorexic.

69. I'm just barely getting used to knowing how it feels like when I'm hungry. That probably sounds really weird, but I never really knew when my body was telling me I was hungry… and I'd ignore it thinking it was a stomach ache (I had a ton of "stomach aches" throughout middle school and high school… and college).

70. I have very strange eating habits. I didn't participate in breakfast until I was a freshman in college… there's a lot of food I don't like… I need to take vitamins because of my lack of a balanced diet (I'd faint a lot before I was put on these bad boys)… and eating in front of others is something I strongly dislike. So to sum this all up: I don't really like food… I don't enjoy eating… and food's a pretty sore subject for me.

71. I've gained 30 pounds in one summer… and lost 20 pounds in 2 weeks. Damn eating disorders.

72. My throwing up record is 20 times in 6 hours. I get nervous and anxious prior to huge exams and just... vomit until my pancreas spills out more bile than I'd like to taste and my body gets too tired to lift my head out of the toilet.

73. I thought about committing suicide in 9th grade... pretty often... because I was clinically depressed my first two years of high school; and while I'm better now, I still have some very bad days sometimes.

74. While I've lived a somewhat sad life… I still do my best to make others laugh and make it look like I'm a regular, happy-go-lucky girl… and I really wouldn't change anything in my past. Why? Because I have more street-cred than any rapper in the industry today… well, besides 50 cent.

75. I can't say "physician," "decision," "position," and many other words ending with that sound... I get tongue tied thanks to my Mexican accent that decides to peak its ugly head at the most inappropriate times.

76. In high school I took as many AP exams as were available to me... all but government. I hated the subject and saw it as a waste of time. In total, I took seven exams: two my junior year (U.S. History, English Language), and five my senior year (Calculus, English Lit, Spanish, French, and Chemistry). This made me the chick who took the most AP exams in my high school (the school was 2 years old, so it wasn't a huge feat), and it also made me "the crazy girl taking all those AP exams" amongst the school teachers.

77. Je parle un peut de francaise. (4 years of it in high school and that's the most of it)

78. Hablo muchisimo Español. But you'll never hear me call a boyfriend "Papi." That's so dirty to me. Just the thought bothers me like crazy!

79. I'm very much computer illiterate... yet I own a PDA.

80. I go through phases where I become addicted to certain things… more like, obsessive. Then I catch myself and feel stupid/embarrassed about it for a year.

81. My 6th grade science teacher was sent to jail for possession of child pornography.

82. I have served only one detention in my life... it was for that man... and I was scared shitless (but I didn't even know about his illegal "hobbies" at the time).

83. I can't stand people who smoke. It's an absolutely disgusting habit that makes me very angry.

84. I enjoy hard liquor, but hate beer with a passion… and still… I don't really drink because a little bit of tequila turns me into a horribly mean, dancing hoe… or a very chill Einstein… both personalities bug me and make me feel stupid the next day.

85. I love most that is art related (I draw, photograph, and write)… but please, no Picasso!! He may be from my ancestor's hometown, but I fucking hate his art. I also don't like people who lift other people's work and try to pass it off as their own.

86. I cried with Bambi, Lion King, Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Mulan... but not with Lilo and Stitch... horrible, horrible movie.

87. I've yet to hold a paying job. My folks never let me get one as a teenager… and now they fear I might fall in love with some co-worker, get knocked up, and ruin my life. So… I'm… destined to be forever unemployed.

88. I will some day travel to Italy, France, Spain, Australia, the Philippines, Greece, Great Britain, and Japan. Those are musts... but I'll try to cover as much land as possible.

89. I received only one C in my grade school career... that was algebra 1 honors, in 8th grade, second semester. I spent my time in class writing stories with my best friend at the time. That grade haunted me all throughout high school.

90. I sing in the shower… I sing in the car… I sing when I'm drunk… but I never said I was good.

91. I visited a zoo for the first time in May of 2006. It was the San Diego Zoo, during that one holiday that occurs that month, and I was ecstatic! Long live huge birds of prey!! (and polar bears!)

92. I visited the Ocean, for the first time in my life, the first week of July 2005. It was Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico and I went with my godson, his little brother, and their mom. I wasn't as ecstatic then. I hate the smell... but not the sound or the view. I did think it was overrated. Big time.

93. I am super fond of cussing. I've tried cutting back for years now. I've made it my... lent resolution to quit cussing for the 40 days since I was in seventh grade, but I always break it within the first week. This love of cussing even cost me credit for my French AP exam… I cussed and spoke in English (fuck… find?? and I also muttered I’m such a fucking idiot) and that invalidated my score. Way to go, AnoMALIE!

94. I majored in Biology... mainly out of stubbornness (I'm pretty good at it when I try) and it being forced upon me by my folks. I love/hate it at the same time… and now I find myself in a mid-life (yes, because I'm only going to live to be 44 with the way I've treated my body) crisis thinking I'll never do biology again.

95. My folks only went up to sixth grade, that's why they're so stuck on me getting educated... although my folks didn't do too bad for only going so far.

96. I have failed 2 classes in college: Mammalian Physiology and Biochemistry II. It was the Spring of 2006... and the most miserable time of my life. I cried for 2 months. I recovered in about 6 months. I re-took the classes a year later and passed.

97. I also got a D in Molecular Biology Fall 2006, but it counted for some credit... so I wasn't too devastated over it… but I'm still re-taking it this semester.

98. I develop instant crushes on men once they make me laugh. Bad habit… since it's not too difficult to make me crack a smile. The weirdest crush I have? Tom Selleck (his porntastic 'stache has a lot to do with it, too).

99. I took my MCAT my eighth semester of college. I had made a promise when it came to going to med school… I didn't meet my own standards… so I decided I'm not going to go. The stress played a role in my decision as well. I get pretty messed up when it comes to prepping myself up for exams, but I explained this one previously.

100. I love writing... I've written over 100K words worth of short stories… and I've been told I do a decent job (when I try). I'm just scared of pursuing it because not too many people succeed.

101. I live to make people happy. It's my number one priority... and while it's sometimes bad for me (because I sometimes don't make myself happy) I'll do it anyways. I think that's why I was so fascinated by Amelie... my favorite movie of all time (second favorite is El Laberinto del Fauno… Ofelia broke my heart like no one else has).

Three pop quizzes will be given on the subject… final exams will only be administered on people AnoMALIE deems fit.

More reasons to be quiet:

As incredible as this may sound, I'm a rather private person (you areeeee?? Wow. Would have never guessed with your BLOG and all).
Part of it is due to my extreme shyness (something I was born with, I suppose... because I can never remember being outgoing... except for this little stint in first grade where teachers had me parading around dancing to salsa music dressed like Chiquita Banana--I have video footage of that shit-- but that wasn't just me. There were about 7 other little girls and 8 little boys... and we'd dance for white people... yeah... inner city Latino kids dancing at important meeting to make hoighty-toighty businessmen look... tolerant of others... while us poor inner city kids felt like monkeys on a string. How horrible.), but I also keep to myself because others just love putting your shit on blast once they find something out.

Talking shit about others is like... a second job for some people in my Mexican town.
Knowing this, I opt not to let these people know jack about me.

If I went out and surveyed the people from my town about things they knew about me, this would pretty much be the list:

1) She has a younger sister that is very pretty, and an older brother that's very tall (we're talking about Mexicans here. Any guy above 5'9" is considered "tall." Eduardo Najera's a fucking anomaly there... a freaking circus freak).
2) Her brother went to Iraq and Afghanistan (which he did not but I can't get that through their heads. He went to Korea and Guam... two countries most people--where I'm from at least-- don't even know are countries).
3) She's really shy and quiet.
4) She doesn't like parties (yeah... because 98% of them are fucking Laaaaaaaaame).
5) She doesn't dance (one of my favorite misconceptions... especially when they think I don't dance because I don't know how... or I don't have rhythm... I LOVE that! Especially since they don't care to know I'm a violinist).
6) She's never had a boyfriend (They say this because I've never been involved with a boy from my part of Mexico. As rude as this may sound, with the boys from Mexico, I wouldn't even hold hands--in a romantic sense. Why get involved with a drunk/drug addict/womanizer? Fuck that. I'll die alone before I ever start taking care of a waste of a human like that).
7) Her parents are strict (Gee, I wonder what ever gave them that idea?).
8) She's a really good girl.
9) She's really studious (I suppose...).
10) She looks sad all the time (if in my shoes, wouldn't you be as well?).
11) She lives in a mansion (ha-ha-ha)
12) She's loaded (ha-ha-ha)
13) She never misses mass... although she never takes communion...
14) She likes animals (::sheepishly:: yeahhh... I do).
15) She mean-mugs people (yeahhh... I do).
16) She hates smokers and drunks (yeahhh... I do).
17) Don't ever piss her off (they've seen me get into a verbal/physical altercation with Sister/Brother/Girl-ten-years-my-senior at the park).
18) She wears dresses/skirts only to church.
19) She's tall with big tits that she tries to hide by wearing sports bras and layered shirts or sweaters.
20) She has big lips--that I bet are fake-- and big eyelashes--which I know aren't fake because I've pulled them before.

Anyway, sometimes I'm so caught up with covering my tracks and being as secretive as possible, that even my own family gets mystified by my existence.

Last night was a great example of that.

Mom and I visited her sister (my aunt's live-in daughter-in-law was there too) since we hadn't seen her since July, and the night turned into this weird... The View thing.
The hot topic of the night was marriage (yey... hooray...).

Auntie started talking about how she felt that if she had another chance at life, she would have done many things differently... especially romance-wise. Auntie began talking about her married life and how she sort of regretted some aspects of it. Her husband was her first boyfriend... first kiss. etc, etc (etc's that I'd rather not know about but she always manages to give me TMI... she's the same lady I had the condom conversation with a while back). The conversation went a little like this:

Aunt: I don't know... I mean... if I could do it all over again... I'd definitely do things a lot differently.
Mom: Why?
Aunt: I don't know... I just... now that I'm old, I wish I could have known what it's like to kiss another man... you know... taste another man.
Me (internally): Ay tia! Don't get that freaking mental image in my head!
Mom: Hmm... I don't doubt you now wish that more than ever... considering the new rules of dating!
Auntie: Especially now, knowing the new rules of dating.
Mom: Like how now people are no longer "novios de manita sudada" (literally "boyfriend/girlfriend of sweaty hand" you know... because back then all they ever did was hold hands) and they now go all the way...
Auntie: Yes!!!
Mom: (grossed out face... kind of in disbelief, too) I was kidding! Look at you! OMG!
Me (internally): Thank God my uncle's asleep right now...
Auntie: Well, you don't know what it's like! You had more than one boyfriend before you married your husband, didn't you?
Mom: ...yes...
Auntie: And you kissed more than just one guy... right?
Mom:... yes... I... had a couple of "little kisses"
Me: Ewwwwww... don't you go around talking about that.
Auntie: You had... *Guy We Still See Around And Who Is Bald As Fuck Now*, you had... *Guy Mom Traumatized By Lying To Him And Agreeing To Marry Him Once He Came Back From The States And When He Did She Was Already Married To Dad So Now This Guy Has Refused To Marry Another Woman And He Now Leads A Sad Lonely Life Caring For His Aging Mother*, you had...
Me: Yaaaaaaaaaa! No more... don't you mention those men in my presence!!
Mom: What? They were good guys!
Me: Lalalalala...
Auntie: Why?
Me: Moving onnnnnn....
Me (internally): I fucking damn the moment I sat at this table...
Auntie: I didn't have anyone! I just... held hands... held hands!!
Mom: So... at least your husband can feel proud knowing you only had eyes for him...
Auntie: But I'm not wrong in wishing I could have kissed... tasted... other men, right AnoMALIE?

(Quiet... everyone seems to wait for my answer as if I hold some PhD on this subject)

Me: Well... um... at least you never knew the pain of getting heartbroken... ???
Mom: Yeah... and then feel stupid about having kissed So-and-so.
Me: Yeah... and you never got your heart broken (AnoMALIE's a broken record, in case you've never noticed).
Cousin-in-Law: And there won't be any room for comparisons...
Auntie: No, no. AnoMALIE... imagine (I loved how she said "imagine" as if I've had 50 men in my life and it'd now be too difficult to remember "innocent days." Fantastic. Ok, Auntie, I'll try my hardest to "imagine" being innocent) how would you feel if you had to go around for the rest of your life knowing you were only going to kiss... hug... feel... this one guy... ever. No other guys in your life... ever. Just this one guy... the first guy you ever dated. The only guy who ever had the guts to ask you out on a date. After a while, wouldn't it make you wonder what other guys are like?
Me (internally): Holy cow... what the hell? Auntie... you've been hanging out with the Salvadorean ladies at work for too long.
Me: Umm... I guess... not really. I'm kind of jealous of what you and my uncle have.
Auntie: But try and imgaine you've never kissed anybody before!!!
Me (internally): Shit... my kisses are worth fucking gold! I don't just give those shits out for free in the first place.
Me: Yeah, I'm trying (I almost got the hiccups right here from holding in my laughter for so long)... I say it because... umm... well, that'd mean I was lucky enough to find my husband on my first try... so... I wouldn't be bothered knowing I never had to kiss any toads to find prince chanrming... and... he'd never be able to... recriminate me for my behavior with previous guys... so I guess it's a win-win situation...
Mom: How are you giving advice... when have you had a boyfriend or kissed a guy??
Me (internally): Fuck. This. Table.
Me: ::shrug:: uhhh... when... I... was 6... ???
Mom: Whennnnnnnnn?
Me (internally): Think fast... think fast...
Me: ::smile:: Who... said... I... I'm... only... "imagining."
Auntie: The girl's 22 years old, Comadre, you'd be a fool to think she's never kissed guys before.
Mom: She's never brought anyone home... so she's never had a boyfriend... so where'd she kiss these people?
Me: No, no, no, no... Mom... I'm...
Me (internally): Fucked...
Cousin-in-law: You've never had a boyfriend?!?!
Me (internally): Fuck. This.Table.

*Note to self*: Sometimes it's best to keep your shit to yourself. Also, watch out for Mom and Auntie... you'll end up the loser in that tag-team grilling.