Ohhhh-Kaaay!

Hooray for intelligence!

If you try really hard, you can see a bit of my shirt behind the dumbass chick in the shorts at the left.
She didn't have to lean like that... I mean, there were four of us that needed to scoot over near her, but she decided to block my cousin and I like that (yes, there are TWO girls sitting behind her). Fine by me (I just can't get over how retarded she was at jumping in front of us like that).

Anyway, as exemplified by the photo above, last night was interesting.
Besides hanging out with a bunch of girls who only wanted to get twisted and get photos taken of them at the venue, I had to deal with a bunch of dudes who seemed to be wearing some mean-ass beer-goggles. Somehow, last night I became the motherfuckin' belle of the ball. I was highly confused by the attention... and extremely uncomfortable.
Do they think I'm a prostitute? WTF? Relax, dudes. I'm a bitch, leave me alone. No, I'm not interested in doing anything with your mouth, hands, and especially not your dick. I just came to dance, get away from me.
Somehow, my Don't you fucking DARE talk to me vibe was untraceable once I entered the club. As a person who dislikes bodily contact, this only spelled disaster for me.
The continuous caressing of my shoulders, back, and/or ass as I walked by went well past the annoying stage, and started to reach the critical level where I was damn near close to screaming "QUIT FUCKING TOUCHING ME!" while pushing dudes into the pool... but I kind of didn't feel like getting banned from all MGM-Mirage properties. And when I think about it, I probably shouldn't complain so much-- at least they were not touching me with their crotch (which seemed to be the preferred method of contact in CanCun).

It also didn't help that this guy happened to be hosting the night:

Yey-AH! OH-KAY!

I was as FAR away from this as possible.

I left after three songs.
Yeah, I'm a party animal.

P-p-p-poker

MGH and I bonded over weird shit.
We were decent friends throughout our lives, but being that I was four years older than him, I always treated him like a snotty little brother.
Then, at 18, he went all fucking Kafka on us and metamorphosed into some handsome man-child (Ok, so it's a little opposite of what really happens in the Metamorphosis). His transformation occurred in '07, and I remember thinking "Holy shit... he's... really, really cute!" But, because of the fact that I had known him since he was a diaper-wearing three year old, I felt so freakin' dirty thinking that.
Well, then came '08 and the magic of Guitar Hero... along with the magic of hard liquor every night for about two weeks... and an ultra strong bond was formed (but I will definitely never try something like that again).
One day, in the middle of taking a video game brake, my love for Texas Hold 'em came up in conversation... and that's when he started to work me-- he was going to make me great.
After about a month, he turned me into a poker shark (an internet one, since he was 18 at the time and he could only gamble on-line. Plus, my poker face SUCKS, I vasodilate easily, so that wouldn't be good).

We Bonnie and Clyde-ed the tables, and all was great.
Then Olive Oyl entered the picture and I retired from the game. I was in no mood to be MGH's partner in crime with this new bitch in the picture (bitch who doesn't understand basic algebra, much less the concepts of probability). This was also when I self-enforced my isolation from the guy, in order to recover from the heartache. Anything related to gambling was off-limits by default.

Well, I have finally reached that level where I'm fine being his friend. After various texts and phone calls, we managed to iron out the (MY) issues. Something in my heart just switched back to "friends" mode, and we're back to being besties (I had missed that. Now I'm definitely leaving that "think of him as a baby brother" switch flicked on-- for good).
Anyway, now that my heart doesn't sink each time I think of MGH, I can go about my life and do things like the good old days.
This includes poker-playing.
Back when MGH hooked up with Olive Oyl, and I did the whole banishment thing, I withdrew all the money I had made at the poker site... so I wouldn't be tempted to play. So yesterday, when I felt like playing, I had to get into the freerolls and work my way up in order to make some sort of money.
It was 12:30 AM, I was practicing makeup techniques AND taking my second practice GRE exam, and I though "Fuck, I'm bored... let's see what's up at the Omaha Hi tables." I entered a $150 freeroll with 7.5k others... and somehow, I got lucky.
The hours passed... and I kept kicking ass and wiping out two, sometimes three players at a time. Problem with this was that I was in the tournament until 5:30 in the morning... when I finally lost at 9th place because I was too tired to give a shit and went all in with a stupid hand. Ninth out of 7,500 donkeys. Kind of nice.

So uh... it appears I'm reverting to my insomniac, poker-playing ways.

Hopefully I don't pass out while at the club with the bridal party tonight (these girls... I love them, but shit! They know nothing about bachelorette parties. Going to the same fucking club, doing jack shiiit... and I'm forced to join due to being one of only three cousins the bride has in town. This is when I wish I really did have a poker face to go with my game).

Mis Frases

"El tiempo no ha cambiado nada, Amelie sigue refugiándose en su soledad. Se divierte haciéndose preguntas idiotas sobre la ciudad que se extiende ante sus ojos"
Si solo tuviera dos frases para poder describir mi vida, escogería estas.

"Ella prefiere imaginarse una relación con alguien ausente que tener una con los que están a su alrededor."
Siempre.

"Si quiere seguir siendo una persona introvertida, tiene todo el derecho a estropear su vida"
No es que quiera... pero... es que... yo no creo en nadie.

"En mi opinión, es mejor dedicarse a los demás que a un gnomo de jardín"
Sin palabras.

"No son buenos tiempos para los soñadores"
Jamas.

"Corazón que suspira no tiene lo que aspira"
Precisamente, pero que mejor manera de pasarse la vida, no?

"La vida no es más que un interminable ensayo de una obra que jamás se estrenará"
Y parece ser que yo de muy pendeja me la paso rompiendome varios huesos en el proceso.

"Una mujer sin amor, es como una flor sin sol- se marchita."
Y ya comenzó... lo de marchitarse, claro.

"Si prefieres vivir en un sueño y seguir siendo una jovencita introvertida, estás en todo tu derecho, ya que malograr tu vida es para todo ser humano un derecho inalienable."
:(

Today has been a very long day.
Being a girl is exhausting (yes, fixing my hair extensions, practicing my false-eyelash application, and having a practice makeup run depresses the fuck out of me. How the hell can chicks do this on a regular basis? It's TORTURE! Ladies, be happy with what your momma gave you... fake shit is just... gross).

Associated

I seriously underestimated the level of difficulty in finding "ivory" colored shoes.

I drove up and down the city all day today, hardly grabbing a bite to eat.
Besides the shoes, I had to get an oil change, buy some hair extensions (long story), and finally get my cosmetics from Walmart.
The oil change was a breeze, Walmart was a success, and the hair extension purchase was left for tomorrow due to the "expert" being unable to join in the hunt. The only thing I really searched for all over town (the East, West, and finally South) were the bastard shoes. Where did I find them? In the shopping center two minutes away from my house... the last fucking place I looked, of course, at the end of the day.

I could have grown increasingly disgruntled with every new place I searched... but instead, I was just... weirded out. Why? Because the entire outing turned into a giant association game. How? Check it:

I was driving down the 15 in order to get to the car dealership for the oil change. For some reason, I don't know why, a particular billboard to my left called my attention. I looked. It was Darcy's dad, the name written across the billboard in huge letters.
Whoa... how cool!
And I smiled for the first time in the day (fixing my car makes me miserable).

Once at the dealership, I had to sit around and wait while the mechanics worked on my car. I was inexplicably cheerful for the hour and twenty minutes.
Once my car is ready, I get my invoice. Name of the mechanic who worked on my car? Darcy (Darcy's real name, not the actual name "Darcy"). Those five letters (yeah, his real name has 5 letters) making me smile again.
Well... that was creepy.

As I shopped for my makeup, I was lost for a minute (yes, I'm one of those people who *sort of* sometimes panics a little when she realizes she's lost in a store). As I went past every aisle in search for my sister, a mom (what I assume) was sort of screaming at her kid. I was a little curious to see this kid getting chewed out, and couldn't help but look when I heard the voice get closer. There, in the CoverGirl aisle, was the lady screaming at her daughter... and my sister standing next to them. What language was the Mom screaming at her kid in? German.
Jesus Christ... are you serious?
This time I raised my eyebrows in surprise... 'cause come on, that German mom would have punched me had I smiled.

I spent my entire afternoon having random occurrences trigger Darcy in my head. Whether it was his actual last name plastered on a billboard (seriously... something like that would happen to me), or seeing an image of Jack Skellington in the candy aisle of Wallmart (... or black nail-polish in the make-up aisle... hey! Don't judge me! So I like a dude who went through the whole black nail polish thing. At least he didn't go through the cocaine thing the boys of Hometown went through a couple of years back... at least, not that I know of), dude was in my head all day. And while I thought it was eerie, it did make me smile, even if it often was out of... a sense of melancholy.

I wonder if anything out there reminds others of me... you know, just randomly. I've only heard it once:
So, I was listening to the radio, and I realized, each time I listen to "Poker Face" I think of you! :)
Why... thank you, missy... I guess. The song's about being sexually frustrated... but OK! Anything that makes you think of me!

I just... I hope no one thinks of me when they see purple... or spandex. I blocked that memory out of my head, others should block it out of theirs... for the freakin' sake of everybody.

La Tortura

I have found a new favorite church time! 6 AM!
Ok... maybe not "favorite," because I don't plan on waking up that early for... a long-ass time, but it was pretty funny.
Waking up at 5:15 in the morning wasn't so funny... it was pretty damn torturous, but the moment I stepped in church, I knew I was going to have a good time.
Why?
Because of everyone in there. A bunch of grouchy, exhausted Hispanic young adults... sitting next to their beaming parents.
The Mom or Dad looking fresh and ready to roll, totally loving life. "What a glorious day!" radiating from their face.
Young adult female with last night's make-up still on her face... her barrel curls smashed on one side of her head-- whichever she slept on. "What the fuck you staring at?" clearly written across her face.
Young adult male with his blow out (WTF is this? Why are guys doing this to their fucking hair now? Pauly D, you're oddly attractive, but CURSE YOU for making that shit popular!) frizzy as fuck, plain white shirt, eyes half closed. "What the fuck am I doing here?" oozing from his... bobbing head.

I was having a blast looking at all the young people; tired, cranky, confused, pissed... it was awesome... not that I was any better off myself. I looked equally, if not more, disheveled than most of the chicks there. I had on zero make-up, an oversized sweater, and my hair... I only brushed it... so it still had its nappy wave thing going on... it looked like I had taken a break from my dumpster-diving.
I was of the "What the fuck am I doing here?" kids.
My sister... that girl... she spent all day yesterday partying. First tailgating at the UNLV/UNR game, then moving on to a birthday celebration. A day where she declared herself the beerpong champ... yet Mom dragged her ass to church with us at 5:30 in the morning.
She was one of the "What you starin' at, bitch?!" girls who reeked of liquor... I wouldn't be surprised if she had a little bit of vomit in her still-curled hair.

To top it all off! The normally-Spanish mass was being officiated by the pseudo-Mexican priest (Mexican-American who grew up in the states back when Spanish wasn't allowed to be taught in schools... so he grew up understanding Spanish perfectly, but not being able to express himself in his mother-tongue, like many Mexican-Americans I know). He goes through the motions in English, while his translator speaks into the mic for all of us to hear mass in Spanish.
While I'm fine with the translator doing the prayers in Spanish, since I can't even recite the "Lord's Prayer" in English beyond "Our Father, who art in Heaven..." "...Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil" (you know, the parts that are movie/book titles), I ABHOR this man's translation of the priest's sermon... you know, the part which isn't written down for him verbatim... he has to wing shit.
This is bad news, since this man translates English into Spanish like I translate German into Spanish.
Du hasst mich gefragt, gefragt und ich hab nichts gesagt. Willst du bis der Tod euch scheidet treu ihr sein fr alle Tage... nein. Me odias... seras... tu... NO. Yey, I'm awesome!
The priest is a very, very intelligent man. I love how he draws everything together in his sermons... it's obvious he aced his essays back in college. Plus, he used to be a chaplain in Chicago, so he has some badass stories. But all merit is lost due to his incompetent, Puerto Rican translator.

First off, the translator does the whole Spanglish bullshit, clearly not having a firm grasp on EITHER language... so he confuses everyone in the building.
He goes off on tangents and doesn't even bother to say what the priest is saying... often changing the subject entirely and saying his own shit.
Priest: He had killed many people... tortured many people... so many, he could no longer remember. He wanted to make amends with the family members of all those he had murdered, and he thought the best way was to accept the death sentence given to him... so he stopped all appeals.
Translator: Y la unica manera de estar bien con dios es rezando. (The only way to be good with God is by praying)
Even the priest looks back at him like "What the fuck is wrong with you, retard? That's NOT what I said."

Anyway, this just adds insult to injury for us angry young adults, dragged to 6AM mass by our parents. We all know this imbecile man is doing a shit job translating... and we have to sit there and listen, unable to tackle his ass off stage.
It's like the Chinese water torture... each incorrect translation being a drop of water on the forehead of our immobilized body.
Someone please slap this idiot!

But, hey, at least I did laugh... a lot.

Thief!

Know what sucks?
Waking up to the sound of someone rumaging through the kitchen like a wild boar at 5:30 in the morning.
My father just frightened the fucking shit out of me as he flipped the damn kitchen upside down... and now not only can I not sleep, but I also have the loveliest pounding going on in my head. Add to that the racing of my heart, heart that now wants to jump out of my mouth.
YOU DON'T DO THAT TO SOMEONE WHO USED TO LIVE IN THE GHETTO!

I hope he one day realizes HE DOES NOT LIVE ALONE! Goddamn!

ocho

October!
I decided to start it off with a bang, so I officially registered for the GRE. I gave myself 18 days to get my shit together... not that I'm totally out of control right now, I mean, I did complete a 694-page study book yesterday. I just have to quit fuckin' around-- get a little more serious.
Hopefully typing up my MasterCard digits will help a sense of responsibility sink in my head.
... not that it occurred back when I registered for the MCAT... I messed around up until the moment I drove up to the test center for that thing.

Anyway, this registration has only kicked off the excitement for this month. September has notoriously been a horrible month in my years, and since it wasn't too harsh on me this year, the optimist in me says October will only be that much better.

Here's to cooler temperatures, possible cloudy days and rainy nights, birthdays galore, and HALLOWEEN!!
God, I love this month!