ROAR!

Ahh, yes! Because August couldn't be cool with me and wanted to punish me for whining, The Universe decided to give me a bump on my eyelid.

MY VIRGIN EYELID!

I've never had anything wrong with my eyelid... just... you know... when I cry and they swell and that shit... but any sort of bump? NEVER!

Yeah, I know I'm overreacting, but I'm just bummed out 'cause my eyes are the only kinda-ok thing about me. Now even that is fucked up. Nice going, Summer... you're the best!

And while I don't really give a shit about this, I've been agitated since around 7PM, when I started arguing with a cousin over the whole USA-Mexico FRIENDLY.

I'm fine with differing opinions... but when the opinion is STUPID and lacking logic... the sole "logic" being "I want to piss you off by saying some of the most misinformed, bandwagoning bullshit," I go fucking batshit. I know I reach this level once I drop the word "retard" so often, I run out of spit.

Oh, oh, oh! And a couple of hours before that, I got in a verbal altercation with this fucking idiotic cholo, driving one of those shoddy landscaping trucks. Imbecile nearly crashed into me because he didn't do a four-way stop correctly... and I caught him right before he hit me... so our cars did this elegant, slow-motion dance in the middle of the intersection, where we pounded on our chests, lowered our windows and screamed:

IT WAS MY FUCKING TURN!!! MY TURN!!!!!!

I feel I won it, because while he spiced up his sentence with "FUCKING DUMB BITCH! IT WAS MY TURN! DUMB BITCH" I was pissed off enough, and cogent enough, to scream "GO BACK TO FUCKING PRISON, BIIIIIIITCH!"

Really, Holmes? You're gonna do me like that? you are gonna call me "DUMB BITCH"????

HAHAHAHAHA! What you got against girls, dawg? Too much BITCH duty in prison? It's OK, Montoya Santana, you'll get over it.

I think that's what kept me from getting all lame and sentimental, and instead violent and all... Herculean.

It also didn't help that I was returning home from my longest day at the gym. I am a massively aggressive monster Wednesday afternoons... when I speed home for my delicious, nourishing post-workout meal... which is my absolute favorite meal of the week. So pardon me as I chop your fucking head off for getting in the way of my nutrient-depleted body and the fan-fucking-tastic carbs awaiting me at home.

As we parted ways from our car-tango, he calmed the fuck down... not I. When this girl wants to be menacing, she WILL be menacing... you can blame pent up aggression for that... and these too

See that elbow?
I would fucking LOVE to smash it across your goatee-rockin' face, lil' homie!
This chick is NOT too happy with dudes right now, G.

I screamed a nice "Fuck you!" and bucked. Yeah, I bucked.

I got home and cracked the fuck up.

Vato couldda shot and killed me... AHAHAHAHA! Oh, a girl can dream.

I tell ya, reckless. I just no longer give a fuck.

And to end on a less sour, violent note, Mooney was kind enough to screencap the conversation RidiculouslyGoodLookingBoy had in regards to some bitch questioning his sexuality:

If only I were that articulate... and participated in more civilized activities, like rational conversations...

Me no think. Me SMASH!

God, I'm such a brute.

So a catlady walks into a bar...

Yesterday, through no fault of my own, I was unable to post.
Did I have anything important to day? Nah, not really (then again, do I ever?).
I just went to the movies after a really long time of self-banishment from the cinema.

The movie was alright. I had my DD moment while watching it (one of the main characters was named "Darcy." Sure, it was Kate Hudson's character, but still, each time they'd say her name, all I could think was "ENOUGH ALREADY!"), but I was a little turned off from the film because one of the characters (Kate Hudson's to be exact) had no real redeeming qualities and it was impossible to like her... fucking impossible.

The film took place in New York, and that actually got me a little excited about going there in less than two weeks. It only took me... a couple of months.

This reminds me, yesterday I had a nasty argument with my sister in regards to our NYC plans.
I want to go to the MET, MoMA, Broadway... and all those landmarks we hear so much about. I also REALLY want to eat. Can't forget to hit THOSE landmarks.

My sister wants to go to the Guggenheim and bar/club hop every night.
Nothing against the Guggenheim, I fucking loved it in Bilbao. It brings back great memories... but still... we're in NYC and we're not going to check out the MET  or MoMA? And bar/club hop every night? What the hell are you smoking?

When sister brought this to my attention (she's the one making the plans, since we're staying with her friend while we're out there. I feel like an asshole when suggesting anything), and my response was:
D, I live in Las Vegas. Why would I want to do that?

She flipped.
What does D do when she flips? She starts spewing at the mouth and says offensive shit that manages to piss me the fuck off and pushes me over the edge.
D: WELL, I'm a NORMAL person, who wants to check out the BAR SCENE in DIFFERENT CITIES.
(she said it like that. She'd elevate her voice during the CAPS part)
Me: Yeah, because the BAR SCENE is so FUCKING DIFFERENT in EVERY CITY. Give me a bar in Las Vegas, a bar in some little town in Nebraska, and a New York bar and you'll get the SAME fucking thing.
(I tend to mimic when pissed off)
D: I KNEW you were going to react like this. You're so FUCKING BORING.
Me: D, WE'RE GOING TO BE IN NEW YORK! You want to BAR HOP in New York when we're only going to be there THREE DAYS?
D: I did it in Spain!
Me: Yeah, you were there for six months... OBVIOUSLY there's bar hopping in SIX FUCKING MONTHS. Bar hop when you're in Germany... Ireland... shit, even England... it'll be unforgivable if you don't. But here in the states, seeing a huge city for the first time? Get the fuck out of here.
D: WELL, Me and *NYCGirl* will do it and you'll be left home alone to take care of her CAT. YOU FUCKING CAT LADY!
UHOH. She went there.
Me: FUCK YOU, YOU DRUNK! WHAT THE FUCK IS THERE TO DO AT A FUCKING BAR?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT TO FIND THERE?! 'Cause I know I'LL BE MOTHERFUCKING DAMNED IF I FIND MY FUTURE BOYFRIEND AT A FUCKING BAR! Tell me, WHAT am I going to do at a bar, huh? Am I going to learn anything? Am I going to be happy? WHY is bar hopping such a MUST? FUCK. YOU.


Some days, you just don't call me a catlady.
(as for bars, there's a time and place for that. When I'm visiting a giant city for the first time and only have three days to experience it, I'm not going to be game to be drunk every single night--or the more probable scenario: me taking care of drunks. Also, NO, I WILL NOT ever, ever, fucking EVER hook up with a guy from a bar. EVER. So I have no interest in checking out the bar scene ANYWHERE... because the only time I'll be at a bar is when I'm 1. Watching a soccer match-- a time when I'll have ZERO interest in talking, or hearing ANYONE talk, 2. Really craving a Belgian fruit lambic. Period)

Land-ho!

I leave for Chicago next week, for a week, and I have yet to fix my bastard dress for the wedding that is taking place on the second weekend of October.

I can't even begin to describe how much fucking anxiety that piece of shit is bringing me.
I talk to my friends, and they often worsen my panic.
Pacemaker: Oh damn... tube-tops... those suckers need to be tight to keep your girls up, but not out.
Lau: AnoMALIE, form experience, I tell you- secure those puppies... even if you can't breathe in the fucking dress!

Graaaaaaahrrrrggg!!
As if I want to walk around in a burlap sac. Correction: a cognac burlap sac.
Sure, it's my fault for not speaking up when the dumb cunt at David's Bridal suggested I get one size larger in order to accommodate my girls... but come on, it's me. I can't help but be a doormat. I'm a timid idiot like that. I assumed she was speaking to me from an expert's point of view.
People (including myself) weren't counting on a parasitic infection fucking me up for a month and actually making me drop some more weight. Now I swim in that goddamn awful dress.
Should I just get fatter and finally fit in that piece of shit?
No... 'cause I'll still have problems with it.

I'm 5'8"... not a spectacularly tall height, especially not in the U.S., so why the fuck is the stupid dress too short? Last time I checked, the standard used for dresses is that to accommodate 5'9" chicks. Shorties just get that shit trimmed... easy fix. But when the dress is too short, what do you do?
My feet stick out of the dress when I'm barefoot. There go my hopes for wearing heels... it appears I'll have to find some flashy sandals or some shit.

And one last thing: apparently, my torso's too long.
?
I always felt quite average in that aspect... although I never really stop and think about my torso beyond "Fuck... I wish I had a six-pack... I hate my gut!"
But I guess I should have been more mindful of it... since it appears to be on the long-ish side... when it's not too busy being cushioned in fat.
This fuck-up of a dress starts making room for my hips halfway down my waist. It looks like my freak of a waist is the mast and I'm about to set sail with the ugly cognac-colored burlap sac.

I don't know... maybe I'm overreacting.
Maybe my expectations for a $150 dress were too high.
Do you know what I can do with $150 (besides buy an ill-fitting dress that drives me crazy)?
I'm the chick who feels horrible for spending more than 10 bucks on a shirt.
Forty dollar jeans are NOT in my wardrobe (except for the two pairs my sister gave me). I spend $25 max on my jeans.
Shoes... well, I do splurge on shoes... but never anything over $100.
And handbags... my "handbags" are Roxy and Hurley brand. I can buy myself a lifetime's worth of bags for $150.
Far more entertaining, much more pleasing things can be acquired with $150.

I can't talk about this anymore, it makes me sick.
I'll keep pondering whether or not to get fatter to fill in that monstrous dress while in Chicago... while I'm stuffing my face with pizza... and churros... and pupusas... and hot dogs... and tortas... and tamales.
Oh... looks like I have a plan!
(NOT! But I'm so fucking angry, I probably could do it out of spite)

Lady Shutyourassup

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Homegirl... where do I begin?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Velvet Sole

I may not be the classiest lady... hell, I may not even be considered a "lady"... I'm not as girly as they come... but I do *attempt* to look like one once in a while... most often with bad results.

That being said,
Can someone classier, girlier than I, please explain why the fuck anyone thought putting velvet on the sole of a flat (shoe) was a bright idea?
What good does it do, really?
'cause so far, all I've really done with those fucking shoes is slip... hard!

Before the day ends, I'm going to end up pulling a hamstring... and I will not be a happy "lady."

Just ain't cuttin' it!

I'm still shopping around... like a madwoman.
I'm having the toughest time finding dress clothes.
Why? Well, I've noticed a trend.
Check it:

They either do this to me:
(That's how it looks if you're looking straight at me)(and there's no point trying to look down my dress...)

Or:

This.

Can't there be a happy middle? You know, one that doesn't make me look like a psychedelic potato sack... but also keeps me from looking like a Spearmint Rhino "librarian"...
(supposedly, you can button up that shirt... but the fucking holes are sown together!)
An unhappy Spearmint Rhino librarian, at that.
(all this complaining, AND I STILL buy the damn thing!!! God!)

Inalcanzable? No mames!

Heard just a couple of minutes ago:

"No, p'os dice tu papi que ya dicen los muchachos de *Mexican Hometown* que con este viaje a Europa, ustedes ya son inalcanzables para ellos."
-Mom

Right... ok... like they wanted anything to do with me in the first place (TravelinDin? Yes. Me? They'd rather drink battery acid while getting kicked in the balls by a wild burro. However, the feeling is mutual. Whereas my sister wouldn't mind dating a guy from those parts, I'd much rather get eviscerated by the slowest bull in Pamplona.).

Dipshits (Los Muchachos, not my parents).


One last gem I got out of the same conversation with Mom:

Me: Your mocosa's quite popular with the Spanish crowd. They claim her as one of their own.
Mom: Yes. I'm not just saying this because she's my daughter, but TravelinDin is a beautiful girl!
Me: Yeah, the Spanish love her. She fits right in. I pretty much don't... they straight up call me "Native American" over there. Whatever.
Mom: Yeah... I ruined you by giving you my nose.

Thanks Mom! Just lovely!
:D

Ah, Man!

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!

I just got a jury summons... for a third fucking time in 4 years.

Shit.
I should become a felon to quit getting this shit.
Screw civic duty!
(I fucking kid... please... oh please, I don't wanna get in trouble for complaining!)

Shit. There go my plans for anything fun and exciting in the month of May. Luckily it's for the 22nd of May... so it doesn't get in the way of Shiny Toy Guns (I almost wrote "Shiny Plastic Pistols"... what is wrong with me?) or Memorial Day weekend... unless I get chosen for a super long trial... which is unlikely, right? Shit, I just jinxed myself.

::singing:: Looks like a shitty Summer!!!!! Foh-oh-oh-or meeeeeee! ::done:: (unless you bought Gwen Stefani's new album, this wouldn't make sense to anyone. If you haven't bought it yet... don't... it's a big disappointment because she's a sell-out ever since making the acquaintance of Akon. Yeah, that's me ranting like an ass)

Let me just say it one more time:
Ssssshitttttttt!