Must... get... away.

So... so freakin' tired.

My eyes hurt.

My brain hurts.

I've barfed.

I'm in a shitty mood.

I'm practically barking at people.

I'm tiiiiiredddddd, damn it!

(and now, I must stop typing like this, because I'm starting to feel like I'm writing Rosie O'Donnell's blog)

I can't wait 'till finals are done.

Till then (and I'm still fucking doing it!), I'll have to entertain myself by looking at funny pictures of "celebrities":

Oh, Nash, I had just told everyone how badass you are...
And, shit, I couldn't be any more right (that loss to damn San Antonio probably added to my bad mood today)!
Look at that dance move right there...
Hollaaa! Cool cat right thurrrrr! (granted, this is a couple of years old, but still)

Get up, you son of a bitch 'cuz AnoMALIE loves ya!

What a way to ruin an otherwise placid Cinco de Mayo.

Why couldn't my family like something like... NASCAR (ahaha... ok, ok... I kid there)? But, no, I really do wish my family would find entertainment in something less barbaric than boxing... and I wish I hadn't given my heart to Oscar de la Hoya. Curse you, Barcelona Olympics of 1992!

Yep. I participated in the typical Cinco de Mayo festivities... I studied, I ran, I cried, I had breakfast at 4 in the afternoon, I went to church, and I finished it all off with a Scotch on the rocks alongside my grieving uncle, aunt, Mom, and two male cousins while watching the De la Hoya- Mayweather fight (we probably should have been praying a rosary or something).

We're so hardcore.

However, I did turn down a Cuban cigar... so I guess that would make me a pu... wimp (or, you know, a girl).
Yes, no matter how hard I try, this Monarrez will always be the wussiest of all.
It didn't help that for most of the fight, I was reading a magazine, looking away, or shielding my eyes.

"Why... ahh... why in the hell... oh my God! Why would he do that?!"
That's all that was coming out of me. That or:
"Oh man... I can't watch! You can do it, Oscar!"

And like all the good Mexicans, I screamed:
"Oh, what the fuck?! That's bullshit!"
When the final decision was mentioned.

I could easily be complaining right now... or pointing out the good parts of Oscar's boxing... but I won't.
Whatever, we all know who the good guy is in this case.

I'll just go to bed, fuming a little... and hopefully it'll only give me more strength to study for these damn finals.

Eeeek. I'm scared (and a fucking spider just crawled all over my left arm... I fucking hate the boonies!)

Ready, like Oscar de la Hoya!

Cinco de Mayo!
Ajuaaaaaaaa! ::shoots up in the air while holding down imaginary mustache (ahaha...imaginary...that's good, J/K!)::
Viva la raza, homes!

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
Cinco de Mayo is SO a gringo celebration. An excuse to get drunk with a Mexican while singing something like "Ay, ay, ay, ayyyyy! Cantaaa y no lloressssss!" And then taking body-shots off some "Mexican."

Ask "normal Mexicans" (i.e. Mexican-Americans) when Mexico's independence is, and I can assure you more than two thirds will get it wrong. I can almost bet on it.

Anyway!!
Mami's back!!!
(Yes, I'm 22.)

I was attempting to go to bed at 2:30 AM, but the rumbling of a loud ass diesel truck "woke" me up (i.e. interrupted my slow Chayanne jam, "La Playa").
I looked out my window (I hate it... because it juts out of the house... and while I was scared of a drive-by getting me back in the old neighborhood, I now fear some douchebag speed racer busting through my wall and killing me in my sleep) and saw it was my tiny little mom getting out of my dad's huge truck.

I ran outside in my pajamas (mistake, cause it was freaking freezing) and greeted her.
I helped her un-load a ton of things she brought for us (candy, "Takis" chips... the BEST chips on this planet! Some Mexican Fresca-- the BEST and ONLY soda I'll drink. She even brought some contraband black berries from my grandpa's tree).

It was crazy to see how happy she was.
Then we got to the story telling... and she made me cry.
If I think about it, I'll still get bummed out.
She also told me my aunt took pictures of my grandpa... and I'm definitely not going to be looking at those.
She told me all these weird things my grandpa did pre and post death. It's kind of creepy.

Ex: She said that the night before he died, he fixed everything in his room... and laid out a new pair of dress pants and dress shirt.
He always had a thing for telling us
"When I die, you better dress me up nice. New clothes, new shoes, nicely combed, neatly shaven. I don't want to get buried looking like some homeless beggar."
That night before he died, he also shaved...
Weird stuff.

So, as Mom unpacked, I cried a little... we laughed a little... and then we got a tad bit angry thinking about the drama my aunt brought to the whole thing because she was trying to get as much stuff as she could. We stayed up talking till 4 in the morning, then I finally went to bed at 4:30.
All in all... I'm glad she's back.

HOWEVER, not all can be fine and dandy.
Last night I got this text message from my little sister:
Hey, Jessica's staying over, so I'm gonna go pick her up, take her to *Twiggy's* house, then we're coming home. Clean up my room and do my bed.

Ok, anything else, Master?

See, my little sister loses control. I can see when you invite people over to your own house... but when you live with your folks, you can't just make arrangements like that without letting the people in charge know. She sees Mom isn't home, and she goes all wild child on me and does as she damn well pleases.

So here I am, 11 PM cleaning her stupid, dirty ass room... I finish that and then check out her bathroom.
Fucking atrocious. That's all I can say.
So then I start cleaning her bathroom (well, this girl's gonna have to use it at some point, right? Imagine the horror when she walks in there and sees five different types of bacterial colonies living in the sink!)... and then I move on to cleaning the mirrors... and then I start sweeping the floor.
I felt like maybe I should have just changed my name to Maria and done my hair up in two braids.
Si, Señora. Have any children you want me to raise?

Little sister strolled in the house at 2 in the morning with her loud buddy Jessica.
Loud Buddy Jessica's our cousin, but still... I don't really get along because our personalities clash and she's only 16.
I almost had a heart attack because for the last 3 hours I had been trying to play a convincing role for Dad, to make him believe Little Sister was already in the house, and here you have these girls practically ringing bells as they walked in the house.

When Mom came, it was a total shock for both girls... and they tried to act as if they were already asleep.
But Mom was pissed.
Mom became hurt when Little Sister didn't go outside to greet her. She wouldn't have been so upset had she not heard Little Sister and Loud Buddy Jessica giggling and gossiping in Little Sister's room.
"Mira que cabrona..."

Then today, as I was having a dream of a giant nephron being stuck in my eye (yeah... it was a STUPID dream), I was woken up by Little Sister and Loud Buddy Jessica talking about, what else, boys.
If they talked like normal people, I wouldn't have heard them... but here they were squealing and "Oh! I know!!"ing loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
Sure, I got to listen to some good gossip about Little Sister... but it was gossip I could have lived without ever knowing (seriously).
She also committed the huge mistake of waking me up (and I had only had 4 of my mandatory 7 hours of sleep!).
No house was on fire... no person was dead... just... some stupid ass boy had pissed Little Sister off and she was boasting about the way she broke up with him with Loud Buddy Jessica cheering and admiring Little Sister (sometimes, I feel like I'm living a movie).

I'm not a happy AnoMALIE right now... but my Mom's home!
And SPIDERMAN 3 tonight!!

Freaking mornings, I hate you.

It's the little things.

Silly little things make me smile...

I don't like this guy in the romantic sense (no, no, this guy is totally Chase's dude. I'm trying my damn hardest to make them get together... all grade school over here... haha, but first I gotta get them talking!).
He's cool, funny, and really smart.
Since I was bored last night (one of my worst insomniac nights ever. It was 4:30 AM and I was still sitting in my room doodling, listening to music, and wondering when in the hell I was going to get sleepy), I wrote back to one of his questionnaires:

YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST, I WANNA KNOW YOU...I want to know 33 things about you. I don't care if we never talk, never liked each other, or if we already know everything about each other. Short and sweet is fine...You're on my list, so I wanna know you better! =)
JUST HIT REPLY TO SEND THE ANSWERS DIRECTLY TO ME IN A MESSAGE THEN, GO BACK TO MY BULLETIN COPY PASTE AND REPOST THE EMPTY QUESTIONS AS YOUR OWN BULLETIN.
=============================================
1.)Q. Can you cook?
1.)A. Not really. Kind of sad for a Mexican.

2.)Q. What was your dream growing up?
2.)A. Umm... I think I wanted to be a fashion designer... or an artist.

3.)Q. What talent do you wish you had?
3.)A. I wish I could sing.

4.)Q. Favorite place?
4.)A. Here? Umm... I gravitate towards the ghetto actually. Bruce and Bonanza... Why? I don't know...

5.)Q. Favorite vegetable?
5.)A. Is cucumber a vegetable? If so, that. If not... then I like broccoli.

6.)Q. What was the last book you read?
6.)A. For entertainment purposes? It might have been... A Million Little Pieces?

7.)Q. What zodiac sign are you ?
7.)A. the oh-so-sentimental Pisces.

8.)Q. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
8.)A. Just piercings.

9.)Q. Worst Habit?
9.)A. Umm... I'm a huge procrastinator.

10.)Q. If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride?
10.)A. Sure, but you'd have to put up with my Spanish music... and erratic driving... and onslaught of verbal assault I throw at other drivers.

11.)Q. What is your favorite sport?
11.)A. Tie between soccer (Cristiano Ronaldo) and tennis (Rafael Nadal)... definitely. Although to actually play, it'd be Volleyball.

12.)Q. Negative or Optimistic attitude?
12.)A. I start off pessimistic, but deep down inside, I'm always hoping for the best.

13.)Q. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
13.)A. Hey, there were so many chances of that occurring in that creepy elevator in the FDH... I probably should have a better answer for this one...

14.)Q. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
14.)A. 4th grade... and Mammalian Physiology.

15.)Q. Tell me one weird fact about you:
15.)A. Weird? Umm... I can make a three-leaf clover with my tongue? Although I don't think it's weird, it's just fucking rad!

16.)Q. Do have any pets?
16.)A. one pitbull by the name of Tyson... named after chicken nuggets... actually, no, it's in homage of ear-biting Mike Tyson.

17.)Q. Do you know how to do the macerana?
17.)A. I can sing it, too.

18.)Q. What time is it where you are now?
18.)A. 11 something

19.)Q. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
19.)A. Cute? CUTE? Are you kidding me?! Maybe if I were born in the late 90's when IT was no longer an issue.

20.)Q. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be???
20.)A. Oh so many things! I can't pick just one.

21.)Q. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
21.)A. I'm a goody-goody... so conscience.

22.)Q. What color eyes do you have?
22.)A. Stupid brown.

23.)Q. Ever been arrested?
23.)A. Only when I played Cops and Robbers.

24.)Q. Bottle or Draft?
24.)A. I'm sorry... I'm a ditz... what?

25.)Q. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
25.)A. Travel to Europe and then whatever's left I'd spoil my friends rotten with... or just pay for grad school.

26.)Q. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?
26.)A. I LOVE the new raspberry Orbitz! It's fan-fucking-tastic!

27.)Q. What's your favorite bar to hang at?
27.)A. Well... I'm not much of a drinker... but I like Buffalo Wild Wings... I'm such a wuss.

28.)Q. Do you believe in ghosts?
28.)A. I say I don't... but I must admit to being scared once in a while.

29.)Q. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
29.)A. Sleep... if not, draw.

30.)Q. Do you swear a lot?
30.)A. Hahaha... this is a joke, right? I don't "swear" as in "I swear on my mother's grave" because I never got into that... but I can out-cuss a sailor.

31.)Q. Biggest pet peeve?
31.)A. I have a ton, but hearing someone say "conversate" is one of the bigger ones. It kind of makes me violent...

32.)Q. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
32.)A. Introvert

33.)Q. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you ?
33.)A. I'm an introvert, remember?

Don't you just love the capitalized parts? It really gives me the sensation that I'm getting screamed at as he's poking me in the clavicle with his index finger... like a drill sergeant.

Anyway, he replied to my reply today... and after a long, tiresome, never-ending day, it made me smile:
Three-leaf clover, huh...

See, Chase! If you guys were friends... he wouldda said something like that (if not better) to you!
xD
(that's probably my favorite smiley)

Spiderman 3 tomorrow!!
(I'm telling you, my ADD acts up on me whenever I have crappy sleep accompanied by very bad eating habits... I haven't really eaten in a week. I'd keep it up, but adult ADD's not cool)

Oh man... it's like I'm buzzed.

Ahahaha... ahahaha.
This really made me laugh.
Maybe I should start getting more than 3 hours of sleep?

I'm just sayin'.

Macho, macho men!

Eghh... it really sucked to find out that the dude I've been crushing on for the majority of the semester is quite dull.
I'd stare each time he sat by me... and I even saw his Myspace once (because we have a friend in common). I really dug his presence. However, after today, I must say he has WAY more character on a webpage than he does in person.
Boring.
He's also a monotone... yeah... I guess I was too busy in class trying to decipher what the sleepy professor was saying to actually sit an pay attention to the guy interact with other humans.
He's just very... dry... I don't know... I didn't like it (and for me to say that, wow, that's BAD. I like almost every guy... or at least I find something to like in any guy. This poor dude... not even his military experience helped him out). What a bummer.
At least he made lab exams bearable (kind of. He'd ask so many stupid questions and drive the poor lab TA insane... but I got to stare. He only showed up to exams though, so I saw him maybe 6 times in lab).

Anyway... off to more important stuff:
I miss Mawmaw (She's in Zacatecas now! Grrr...)!

My Dad is driving me freakin' insane!
We fight so much...I'm surprised the neighbors haven't called the cops yet (maybe because my neighbors are fucking felons themselves... trashy ass Californians).
It's crazy how Dad acts as if he's the only person living in this house. He drinks/eats my stuff... things I personally shopped for... things he's previously said "Man, that stuff's disgusting!" to. Why?

"Because it was right there... in the refrigerator."

Well, no shit, Sherlock! It has to be in the fridge. What? Do I have to start making cubbyholes in the fridge to hide my shit, now? Where am I? Prison?!
He ate the world's best cheese already (Mom and I called it that because we've never had such good Queso Ranchero in our lives. We decided we'll never have anything like it again)... and there was about 2 pounds of it left last week. Once Mom left for Mexico... it disappeared! And Dad's lactose-intolerant... which... only baffles me.
He has this thing, where instead of following directions and, say, gently ripping the perforated top from the tortilla bag, he'll go all He-Man on us and just rip the entire thing.
Grrr! By the power of Grayskull...I have the power!
What the hell, Dad? Was it taunting you or just threatening the safety of the world?
He'll carve into things... like cheese or fruits... as if he were going on some sort of gold excavation. He'll leave us these lopsided-ass blobs that we're supposed to be compelled to eat.
He'll leave the sloppy, used dishes at the table, and he'll cook smelly food inside the house (a big no-no with Mom. BIG, big no-no with Mom) only to have my sister and I chocking to death in our rooms.

We had a sweet ass argument last night thanks to PBS:
(On TV: Show about Mormons that I happen to be listening to because I thought of that one South Park episode. I also need a diversion while doing my pre-run routine, so I was sitting in the living room stretching and watching PBS)
Dad: They're "sick pups" (I HATE that term! HATE it).
Me: Why?
Dad: Aren't you listening? There's something wrong with their heads.
Me: Well... if anyone were to walk into your church and see all you guys jumping, and dancing, and talking to yourselves--I mean, Jesus-- I'm sure people would think you guys were "sick pups."
(Dad scowls at me)
Me: I'm just sayin'... we're all weird.
(Dad looks at me over his reading glasses... à la Santa Clause making a list, checking it twice)
Me: You can't just go around calling people "sick pups," because we all have different beliefs. Whatever gets you by, gets you by. If it makes you a better person, even better.
(Dad's still looking at me as if I have a serious mental disorder)
Me: Do you think we (Mom, Bro, Sis, me) are sick pups 'cause we're Catholic?
Dad: ... well...
(::gasp!:: You Pentecostal Poo-Poo head!)
Me: You just sing, and dance, and talk to God to your heart's content.
Dad: What the hell is wrong with you? Is that what they teach you in school? To be blasphemous?
Me: Yep. And biochemistry, too!

I hate that shit. I absolutely hate it. I love my Daddy, but when he goes off on his religious tirades, I just want to jump off a bridge or something (he later came in to the computer room, where I was, and put the television on one of those evangelical channels... only to chime in with "Amen to that!" and "Praise the Lord!" whenever someone said something he liked. "You hear that, Mija? The Bible's alive!" Cool, Pa, now can you please take that to your room and let me finish Googling slides of the male and female reproductive systems?).
I thought he would stop being that way after this one Pentecostal "sister" of his came up to my mom, brother, little sister, and me to tell us that we were all going to hell for being Catholic, this when I was like... 8.
And while he hasn't said we're going to hell, he still thinks we're basket cases for crying when the Pope died (he was adorable and funny and artistic and cool and old and sympathetic... and... who wouldn't cry?!).

Mami!! Venga pronto, que este hombre me esta volviendo loca!

Where the hell are MY body guards?

Uh-oh..."Too Late" made it on the shuffle... you know what that means! Repeat X's 5!

Anyway, let's forget about my ADD and continue.

I now know how Paris and Lindsay feel.
No, I was not caught flashing my moneymaker while getting out of a car (although... I did get out of my sister's car quite ungracefully today. I suck at getting out of cars... I need SUV's or trucks in order to make a semi-decent exit where I don't trip over my legs), I did, however, get my picture taken by some weirdo while driving back home today. Paparazzi, I tell you, what a damn hassle.

It's not like I don't get attention while driving... and it's not like I get a lot, either. But I'm not usually a willing participant in "car-flirting," (or any type of flirting for that matter. I really suck at it).

I enjoy the occasional wave from a beautiful stranger (but of course, not the one finger salute), I don't even mind if the person is ugly if they give me the "spirit finger" wave. That's the wave where they make their fingers move in a... wave like fashion. Those spirit finger waves sure make me happy even coming from construction workers.
Waves= cool.
USOEO= not so cool.
I've also gotten the universal sign of "eating out" (USOEO) from a paisano once. You know... pointer and middle fingers making a V, tongue in the middle moving side to side.

WTF? Is that your way of signaling I have a flat or something? Wait... is he... ahh! My virgin eyes!

Instead of getting angry, though, I just kind of... laughed it off. Does that trick usually work on chicks? I don't even think porn stars dig that sign. Why don't you just flash me "The Shocker" next time?

Then today just set a new bar for "weirdo-ness" in the flirting realm.

My friend Lucky Soprano had told me a story where some stranger took a picture of her from the opposite side of the bar. However, Lucky Soprano caught the dude and gave him the finger just as he took the picture. I just remember thinking: "Now why the fuck would any idiot do that shit? Are they that desperate to make people believe they know hot girls?"

Apparently, there are idiots like that.

I was at a stop light, where traffic usually backs up because it has one lane for turning left, one for the right, and one to go straight just as you get off a tiny birdge. I was in the middle lane, and this dude was in the left. He had been tailgating me since I had entered the 215.
Whoa, Smooth Operator, what the hell do you think you're doing?
I thought he was just being your typical jackass... since I refuse to believe anyone's trying to hit on me.
He moved his car so that our bodies could be parallel, and when I looked over, I got hardcore eye-contact.
Eww... pinche naco hasta la madre. No manches, güey!
Whenever I'm under theses circumstances, rather than giving them an "Ew, leave me the fuck alone, you fucking creep" look, I tend to look away (sure, my shy nature has a lot to do with it. But I'm also kind of polite to the poor dudes that only want to look at a girl. I think of my brother, so I'm never as rude as I wish I could be). I decided to do just that with this guy.
I was looking down writing a text message (something I typically do with a smile on my face) as I waited for the light to turn green, when a flash scared the hell out of me.
I looked over to the dude, and bam... there he was, holding a digital camera... and smiling at me.
Oh helllllllll nahhhhhhh! WTF was that?!

See, Lucky Soprano knows how to handle that kind of attention... she's a clubber... a hot-tempered Irish-Italian hottie. She can handle that shit.
I'm a foulmouthed-good-girl nerd... I just kind of sit there and take it with my mouth open (no... I didn't mean it like that).

I scowled at the guy... and yes... my mouth was open from my surprise at the new level of creepiness I had just experienced.
I mouthed off "What the hell was that?" and he smiled as he drove away.

That shit better not make it on Myspace... he didn't give me enough time to get in my Emo Pose... or the one Chase names after me where I'm looking up at invisble planes. I was looking down, smiling, behind the wheel of a large vehicle, and writing a text message.
Shit... I hope he sent it to like... the DMV or something.

"This bitch drives while texting!"
Instead of
"Check out the chick I beat off to before going to bed each night because I'm a desperate Naco de la pinche selva Chiapaneca que no puede ni con vacas!"

Eww, eww, eww.
That's it... from now on I'm driving with a bag over my head... of course, with cut out eye-holes.