Lindo y Querido

Deportation... that would have sucked... had I not been born in the US (segue-way master, huh?).
Still, I love my beautiful Mexico.

This will be my first year in ten years not spending my summer (or part of it) in Mexico, the 5th time of my entire life.
I've had my moments of weakness when I think I can go out there for at least two weeks... but then the more reasonable part of my brain jumps in and slaps me back to reality- it's horribly dangerous out there (Why, DGO? WHY?! Once BBC talks about it, you know it's no joke), no one is going, and I no longer have much of a reason to be out there.
Plus, my diversion for boring days/afternoons while out there is now out of the question. Playing Guitar Hero (as has been the case for the last 2 Mexico summers) is a bad idea because, to this day, I can't play without crying. No, not out of desperation. We all know I kick major ass at the guitar (gold-starring on expert. Get on my level, sucka!), I could also be part of a Nirvana/Coldplay cover band if need be (notice I didn't mention a chick band. My voice is a sad, sad situation... I perfect Kurt Cobain's range by just using my talking voice... it makes me laugh but feel sad at the same time), but I cry 'cause I can't stop thinking about how much the damn game irritated my grandma.

So no... NO Mexico.

However, my heart will be 100% Mexican this summer... because of that magical time in one's life that comes up ever four years, better known as: The World Cup!
I'm stoked for the games, even if they'll be at a freakishly early hour (for me, 5-7AM is ungodly considering I usually go to bed at 3AM), and yes, like any good Mexican, my hopes are high.

But I must admit: my hopes might be a little TOO high.
I realized this fault of mine after the recent Mexico - England game.
A week ago, I completed my fantasy bracket and placed Mexico... in the semi-finals (after defeating England in the quarter final match)!
I know... I know... what the fuck was I thinking... but like I said, I had high hopes. They have a tremendous squad... and that might have been the culprit behind this example of momentary insanity. Mexico's U-17 world championship back in '05 makes me trust these young kids like crazy... however, it's just... man, when playing with the big dogs... it becomes a wreck!

So I'm a realist: Spain's my rooster.

Honorable mention goes to Portugal... because they're the reason I'll be getting up early... because they have the most beautiful, albeit sluttiest, man in the universe... that I liked before he was so popular... you know, back in '04 when he cried more than a new born child.
Biggest disappointment? Brazil... for not calling on Ronaldinho.
Team I hate? FRANCE. Fuck those cheating mother fuckers (all this considering I'm not Irish).

I promise never to make any more brackets again... well, at least brackets that contain the Mexican soccer team, we all know I think with my heart when those guys are involved... and like in real life, those boys ALWAYS break my heart!

Feis Buk

I was a hard sell on Facebook.
A Canadian friend of mine bugged me to join back in... '06? I don't remember quite well, I just remember I joined as a means to appease the girl. I did not add a photo, or friends, but would only drop by when someone would add me and I would have to confirm the friendship.
I slowly merged into Facebook once I noticed my siblings would use it more often than Myspace. The last nail in the coffin for Myspace came in '08 when both my siblings moved to Europe and the only way to stay in touch was through FB... that, and MGH was super active on FB, and oh! the things we did on FB.
I welcomed the change then, since Myspace had been bringing nothing but drama. Too many family members, not enough privacy. At the time, FB was great because you needed a college e-mail address to join. Not too many family members went to college... it was my fucking heaven!

Now, in 2010... it has changed. Aunts, Uncles, middle schoolers... pickles... they all have a goddamn FB. I can't post a photo without someone having an issue with it... or at least talking about it the next time I see them. If my status update is deemed too vulgar, I'll hear about that as well.
And when guys write on my wall, my God!
"So I've seen *so and so* writes to you often... he's funny... what's going on there?"
Umm... I have intelligent, hilarious friends that have quick wits... and I like keeping it that way?

Initially, I promised myself I'd only add family members I spoke to frequently... and were drama free...  and wouldn't gossip about potentially compromising photos I'd be tagged in, but that soon changed once I refused to add one extremely communicative cousin, and she quickly confronted me about it.
You know, now that I think about it, my story is quite similar to the South Park episode.
"Why don't you poke grandma?" Because I don't want to! Who the fuck pokes people?!

After all this, I now even have people from Hometown on there.
Pain in the fucking ass. A place I once used to chit chat with school friends, has now become a place of entertainment for the gossip-loving family I was so unlucky to be born into.

Over the weekend, I finally had a melt-down/confrontation.
I'd go off and talk about it in detail, but who wants to hear it? Point is, I was being sarcastic and people took me too seriously (story of my life). I was then sent a scathing message... and I was "deleted" from certain people's page.
I DON'T like conflict, but I also tell people when I think they're being irrational fucks. I try my damn hardest NOT to be the irrational fuck in an argument.
Since these idiots are part of my family, I found myself APOLOGIZING for any hurt feelings I may have caused... and promising never to do it again.
They "accepted" my apology and I was re-added.
??
Nothing else. Not a "Oh, I'm sorry for making such a big issue, for not understanding, and for butting into something that was none of my business."

And people wonder why the fuck I don't talk in person.
Shit.

Que hombre?

Ok, so I was talking about boys getting girlfriends and becoming lame afterward, right? Ok... I'll... talk about boyfriends (and then work it into a weird tangent, check it).

I first learned the beauty of relationships with the opposite sex in... kindergarten.
No lie, I was crushing on boys since before kinder (I once asked Mom to "buy" me this one Latin singer when, at the age of 4, I saw him on television. To this day, when his decrepit little body appears on Univision, my mom refers to him as "your purchase." ew), however, once it was kinder time, I was flirting with bowl-hair-cutted boys in no time.
First crush's name? Amadeus.
No fucking lie (might explain my future love with the violin ??).
He never dug me, though, since he was of the "girls have cooties" type (lame ass).
I had to wait until first grade to get a "real" boyfriend. This kid I'm still in contact with, and also doesn't let me live my mistake down.
1stBF: Yo, AnoMALIE, I told *dude* about us kissing in 1st grade and all that. I told him I was cool with you two dating."
Me: WTF dude? WHY? That was AGES ago! I was 6! Cool to date me... get the fuck out of here!

Then came second grade. 1stBF went to English class, I remained in Spanish class. I wasn't going to sit in class and NOT accept my male classmates' signs of affection.
There was another issue: I showed up to class two months after school had started. I had moved to Mexico with plans to stay there for good, but Mom was like "Fuck me if I keep my kids in this shithole!" and she brought us back to Vegas and signed us back up in the same school.
I had the problem of having to make friends (and we all know how successful I was at that task during my elementary school days)... and guess who I resorted to? Yes... the boys.
The cutest boy in class was the first to ask me out... and apparently, dumped his girlfriend a minute prior to asking me out during recess.
This girl, his now-ex-girl, held on to the grudge for the rest of the year... then the rest of elementary school... then the rest of middle school.
She'd sing songs to me... mean ones. "Ese homre es mio!" etc. I'd just stare at her.
Girl... it's 1997, get over it!

Fast forward to today:
I get a weirdo friend request on Facebook. I check out who it is...
lo and behold... it's Jilted Ex Girlfriend of 2nd Grade Boyfriend.
First thing she asks: "So, are you married?" Homie... whaaat? Hell no! Is that the vibe I gave that last day of 8th grade when I last saw you?
For a minute I was scared she'd want to find me and come sing more vicious love songs in my face, but lucky for me, she now lives in Mexico and has no passport... so I'm good.


Facebook... that shit... boy do I have a future story on that subject.

**UPDATE**
Oh for fucks sake!!!! JiltedExGFof2ndGradeBF came on to me. What. The. Fuck. ? I'm just going to write "I love cock" all over my Facebook. Enough is enough, man.

Boys rock! Until...

Let's just run with this jotted, continuous train of though of mine.
(Is that even what it is? Whatever, I don't want to look up the actual definition for what it is that I am doing)

Ok, so I've established that I have a ton of guy friends.
I love this, yes. I agree with those people who say guy friends are "SO much less drama!" and they're a ton of fun... I mean this in the least sexual way, obviously (that's a totally different can of worms I refuse to open just yet... possibly EVER). But seriously, guys are genuinely fun. I can talk about the nastiest shit, or see the nastiest shit, and they'll be right there with me, laughing and gagging alongside yours truly. I can get dirty, sweaty, and/or injured with them and, oddly enough, not seem to mind (ok, maybe if I get injured a little too seriously I'll cry a little) I'll probably even look forward to the next time I get to repeat it.
There's just ONE little problem:
My guy friends get girlfriends and immediately lose their balls.

Well, it's not really like that, but sort of.
Nine out of ten times, my guy friends become weird zombie-esque, chameleons whose sole purpose in life becomes emulating their girl (just cut your fucking balls off and carve yourself a vagina, dick!) and making her happy .
Apparently, NOT chillin' with me is part of "making her happy."
Ridiculous stipulation... as if I sleep around... or even touch their private parts.

What hurts the most is that the guys I tend to be closest to are the ones who cut me off cold turkey.
Clear example, this one dude I went as far as call my "brother." He befriended me because he was BFFs with my sister. He has the quickest with EVER, that even people who didn't know him but were MY friends on facebook would look forward to his comments on my page. He was becoming a damn celebrity on my page.
Come November, he finds himself a girlfriend.
Suddenly, neither my sister nor I exist to him. I comment him, I write him... my sister calls him and texts him... and NOTHING. As if we're non-existent.
This HURTS me. I understand ignoring me when I DO something, but out of the blue? Because you finally have a girl willing to blow you at a stop light and a little girl you've now adopted as your own? Man up and treat me like the goddamn sister you once claimed me to be, asshole.

So I say:
DUDES, WHAT THE FUCK?! I'm now invisible because I have a vagina?! Get fucking real! You were my friend... I never touched your face (if I touch your face, let it be known, I have it BAAAD for you. AnoMALIE + intentional, somewhat-intimate physical contact = SPRUUUUNG!), I never stared into your eyes "lovingly," and I watched that infamous video of two females and one cup with you in the wee hours of the night... in AnoMALIE terms, that means you had NO CHANCE in hell to get in my pants in the first place. Why does that change once you get a girl? It should strengthen the bond, if anything, because now I can talk you up to this new chick of yours.

I can see the poor treatment going towards a "friend" you used to sleep with, even make out with...
but DUDE! We're talking about me... I apologize when my hand accidentally bumps yours... come the fuck on!

Rant over.

She's hella cool

Sticking to my previous post's theme of homosexuality, here's another story:

I don't have many female friends. While Facebook might beg to differ, it's a fact that I have a tendency to chill with more guys than girls.
The girls I do hang out with are incredible ladies, and rarely get caught up in the typical girly drama.
Now, I wouldn't say I don't ever get caught up in shit-talking. I'm quite snarky when it comes to gossiping about others, however, this part of my personality seems to be amplified whenever I hang out with girls who love to go out to dinner or nightclubs and just tear other girls to shreds with their wicked words.
So, I make conscious efforts to stay away from chicks who seem to thrive on gossip... and end up hanging out with dudes or my trustee 3 female friends.

About a year ago, I met a chick who struck me as awesome after two minutes of conversation. She was at a family party, and she's BFF with two of my really cool cousins. The girl approached my sister and I, and her conversation consisted of hilarious anecdotes and asking interesting questions.

Me: Dude, Aria's hilarious!
Sis: I guess.
Me: She's hella cool, what are you talking about?! No wonder C and M chill with her!

Fast forward to this weekend.
M graduated and threw a party, where I ultimately stumbled upon Aria* (not actual name) once again.
Aria, once again, was the life of the party. She got M a boa (actual snake) for her grad gift, and everyone at the party was intrigued, but fearful. Aria was the only one holding the snake and encouraging others to pet it.
This reminded me that I had yet to add her to my FB, so I did.

Lo and behold... I see what's up.
She likes girls.

Come on guys! Take note!

Leo!

I grew up in one of Vegas' many ghettos. My particular ghetto was the one found behind the Stratosphere casino... aka Naked City.

I'm a nice girl... always have been, but I do have a mean streak in me thanks to the 14 years I had to spend in the aforementioned ghetto.
I can punch, I can kick, I can strangle... and hair pulling, bitch, please, I don't even play in that department. I know an elbow to the face does incredible damage, and better yet, face-to-the-knee is MAGIC when brawling.

I've grown up... my fighting years are behind me. However, recently I bumped into a FB group dedicated to my middle school. Thanks to the group, I've found a couple of friends... and foes.
The craziest is this one chick with whom I had a nasty pool fight. Yes, POOL fight.

Our school had a pool, and we were forced to swim for PE at the beginning and end of the school year. We were swimming, I -- being the shy, chubby, prepubescent 13-year-old who would have killed to NOT have boobs-- wore a shirt over my bathing suit... a two-piece... which I only owned because it was cheaper than a one piece.
I avoided swimming for the entire hour by walking 10 laps around the shallow end. Anything to avoid being in the pool for too long.
One day I heard this girl, a 7th grader, talking shit.


"Why does that fucking fat bitch wear a two piece? Does she think that white shirt is covering anything?"
I turned to her and made eye-contact.
"Yes, I'm talking about you!"
I was walking laps in the pool, she was walking directly behind me.
"Listen, you stupid dyke, I don't give a fuck what you think. I'm a girl. I'm growing... at least I don't look like a boy! You fucking wanna-be Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike!"
"At least I'm not a fat bitch!"
She then splashed water at my face.

It. Was. On.

I grabbed her neck and held her head underwater.
For a long time.
And I didn't let go.
She splashed and writhed under me, and eventually one of her friends and one of mine had to pry me off.
The teachers never did a thing about it. We were just pulled out of the pool and forced to sit out for the remainder of class. As we sat against a wall, shivering and wrapped in our towels, she apologized. I apologized immediately after. We made peace by the end of the year, I moved to a nicer part of town, and that was that.

I hadn't heard from this girl since then, and all of a sudden, yesterday I went to her facebook.
What is she?
A Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike.
;)
I was right the whole time!

She was the first, and is the only chick on which I ever used that derogatory term.
Kids can be cruel.
(But I was right.... bahahaha)

wah, wah, wah. Sad again.

El problema no fue hallarte,
El problema es olvidarte.
El problema no es tu ausencia,
El problema es que te espero.
El problema no es problema,
El problema es que me duele.
El problema no es que mientas,
El problema es que te creo.

(the problem wasn't finding you, the problem is forgetting you. The problem isn't your absence, the problem is that I wait for you. The problem isn't the problem, the problem is that it hurts me. The problem isn't that you lie, the problem is that I believe you)

El problema no es que juegues,
El problema es que es conmigo.
Si me gustaste por ser libre,
Quién soy yo para cambiarte?
Si me quedé queriendo solo,
Cómo hacer para obligarte?
El problema no es quererte,
Es que tú no sientas lo mismo.

(The problem isn't that you play, the problem is that it's with me. If I liked you for being free, who am I to change you? If I was left loving alone, how can I make attempts to force you? The problem is not liking you, it's that you don't feel the same)

Y cómo deshacerme de ti si no te tengo?
Cómo alejarme de ti si estás tan lejos?
Cómo encontrarle una pestaña
A lo que nunca tuvo ojos?
Cómo encontrarle plataformas
A lo que siempre fue un barranco?
Cómo encontrar en la alacena
Los besos que no me diste?
(And how can I get rid of you if I don't have you? How can I distance myself if you're so far? How can I find an eyelash on something that never had eyes? How can I find platforms on something that was always a ravine? How can I look in the cupboard for the kisses you never gave me?)

Y cómo deshacerme de ti si no te tengo?
Cómo alejarme de ti si estas tan lejos?
Y es que el problema no es cambiarte,
El problema es que no quiero.

(And how can I get rid of you if I don't have you? How can I distance myself if you're so far? And the problem isn't changing you, the problem is that I don't want to)

El problema no es que duela,
El problema es que me gusta.
El problema no es el daño,
El problema son las huellas.
El problema no es lo que haces,
El problema es que lo olvido.
El problema no es que digas,
El problema es lo que callas.

(The issue isn't that it hurts, the problem's that I like it. The issue isn't the damage, the problem is the trace it leaves behind. The issue isn't what you do, the problem is that I forget it. The issue isn't what you say, the problem is what you hold back)

This is mighty therapeutic. And so true in my case.

Jesus... I need to get back to school. It helps me get a life where I don't give a flying fuck about the bullshit that is "romantic" relationships. 

Romance... ha. Petty shit that only gets in the way of living a productive life. At least, it seems to hold true in my case.

WHY DID I EVER STRAY FROM THE MEDICAL SCHOOL PATH?!