People are fucking retarded part 57649274

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
People are fucking inconsiderate RETARDS! I don't even want to use that word... it's an insult for those poor souls with Down Syndrome... to be compared to "normal" humans who CHOOSE to have complete disregard for their peers. I haven't met a single person with Down Syndrome who was an asshole... "regular" people on the other hand...

Anyway,
Not only was I hit by a shopping cart as I picked up some hairspray at Walmart today (Check it: I was STANDING, reaching for the bottle of hairspray, I was nearly ON the fucking display, TOTALLY as out of the way as I'm humanly-fucking-possible, when out of the corner of my eye, I see a cart moving towards me. I think nothing of it, because it was going slow... and I'M NOT INVISIBLE, the idiot driving the cart HAD TO SEE ME-- I THOUGHT. But no, instead, I feel the cart dig into me, my pelvic area... slowly... and pressure beings to be applied... like what you'd do when you feel your cart being obstructed by... fuck, I don't know... a pillow? "Maybe if I push hard enough it'll magically disappear!" What the fuck do I know, I've never been fucking retarded enough NOT to look at what's obstructing my cart's MOVEMENT. ANYWAY, I look at the DUMB MOTHERFUCKING CUNT driving the cart [GUESS her what she was... just GUESS! Stereotypes exist FOR A MOTHERFUCKING REASON! Can't even drive a motherfucking SHOPPING CART!], I just STARE at her face, not saying a word... wondering WHEN THE FUCK she'll finally look up and see what she's HITTING. Finally, the bitch looks up. I make eye-contact. I give her my best "Why, hello, there, IMBECILE!" look. And she apologizes "Oh my God! I'm sorry!" I don't say a word. I just look at her cart, that is STILL ON MY PELVIS, then at her fucking STUPID face, I look at her cart again, then at her STUPID FACE. I raise my eyebrow, not saying a word, holding my fucking bottle of hairspray, and just STARE. I. Want. To. Make. Her. Feel. RETARDED. Think about what exactly she did... YOU HIT A PERSON WITH YOUR CART AND CONTINUED GOING WITHOUT LOOKING AT WHAT YOU WERE DOING... IN THE HAIRSPRAY AISLE OF WALMART, not your fucking house, where you expect NO ONE TO BE THERE. I stare. I don't budge. I just stare. And follow her with my eyes until she gets out of the aisle. You have NO IDEA how hard it was for me NOT to grab her fucking stupid cart and flip it over on her fucking stupid feet. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDIOTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!) but also a FUCKING CUNT finally drove me to lose my shit in kickboxing and FINALLY physically injure the fucking shit out of someone at the gym-- MY PLACE OF REFUGE!

Horrible fucking day.
Fuck you, January 31st. Fuck you.

Gimme Some Sugar :)

Since I took the liberty to skip an unacceptable second post for this month, I've decided I'll write one up real quick to make up for it.
This just happened, and it amused me a bit, so I'll save it here for whenever I need a little giggle.

Yesterday, I was in Mom's vehicle for the first time in a few months.
She's has changed up her CD rotation, and much to my dismay, there's a particular artist on that rotation whom I dislike... a lot. Well, her singing, that is. She's a cool person, but her singing is not something I listen to willingly.
Anyway, thanks to that stupid CD being in Mom's vehicle, and her refusing to change it when I was riding with her, I got one of the fucking songs stuck in my head.
So, in my anguish, I tweeted out the following:
I'd rather have someone spit in my face than listen to Jenny Rivera music #turnthatshitoff
And I continued with my day.

About an hour ago, I was going to respond to one of my friend's replies to me, and saw a complete stranger tweeted this at me:
I wish I could gave u in front.of me so I will do it jsjaja lol
??... who... the fuck is this and what the hell are they talking about?
Then I saw what they were replying to... and it was that "controversial" tweet of mine regarding the terrible music.
Let's see this idiot and how she found me.
I could already imagine what she looked like: short, dark Mexican who's into rancheras, getting drunk at Mexican "bailes" and singing along to the music while their sloppyass-selves have their shirts halfway up their droopy chest, and the security guard is sweating as he tries to keep this troll from falling and getting trampled to death by her fellow drunken, sloppy, overworked Mexican housewives.

...OK. Angry much?
So I was a little interested in proving my point, and I went ahead and checked out her page.
I saw she had only tweeted twice, and she was only following one person (a San Diego radio station that plays--surprise, surprise-- Mexican music). No people were following her.
Her first tweet was a "real" tweet, her second was that one where she volunteers to spit in my face.

Originally, I was going to leave it alone... I was going to act like her tweet got lost in the Twitter Universe... because frankly, who gives a fuck what this one lonely person thinks? I'm sure in real life, if she were to ever ATTEMPT to spit in my face, I'd make her bite her tongue off as I'd kick her face against the pavement... Me, angry? Nah. I'm just telling it like it is. I'm as peaceful as they come, but don't touch me... unless you're prepared to get maimed.
But then I read her first tweet:
Ayer m sentia mal. Hoy m siento bien tener diabetis es triste. Cuidense y cuiden la salud d sus hijos.
(translates to "Yesterday I felt sick. I feel good today. Having diabetes is sad. Take care, and take care of your children's health." Of course, she writes like a dog, so grammatical and spelling error abound. But this is Twitter, where we're confined to fit our thoughts in 140 character... so I let that slide)

And that's where that vindictive, sarcastic cunt in me just couldn't stay silent, so I replied:
pero solo si tu saliva es igual de dulce que tu sangre... :)
(translation "but only if your spit is as sweet as your blood..." with my smiling emoticon that says "Yeah, I went there. Now let's laugh this off and forget about it." Low blow? Only if you're a pussy)

If you feel like clowning on me, make sure you don't give me material with which to rebuttal... 'cause I promise I'll try my best to make your blood boil at least a little bit ("blood boil"... which in this bitch's case, could possibly make syrup...).

So yeah... I even have STRANGERS for haters. How cool is that? At this rate, I'm gonna be headlining comedy tours in no time. 

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.

One Forty

Heartbreak is in the air.
All I have to do is look at my FB or twitter to notice.
Many people's lives are falling apart.
Sure, it's reassuring to know I'm not the sole depressed person in my circle... but it's getting fucking annoying!
:)

I only say that for the constant bitchers who go on twitter and post sad music lyrics, followed by "please hear it @bitchwhoisbeingshady." Or write shit like "I give up..." every two days.
Amigo, how is that possible? I thought you originally gave up last week. That's not how giving up works... unless you're giving up multiple things... like smoking, then coke, then heroin, then corduroy pants.
I have to go through my phone notifications and watch this soap opera unfold at six in the morning.

But, hey! I am glad I'm not alone.
Now let's all quit bitching, yeah?

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?! I'm a habitual offender.
Well... not that I tweet sad lyrics or any of that shit-- I dedicate my 140 characters to ranting... obviously... since that's all I know how to do: bitch (that, or post photos of my cocktail of the day. Half of my photos are composed of martinis or scotch on the rocks... and an occasional weakass wine).
But I do find myself complaining a lot about my romantic misadventures, how it sucks knowing that I'm going to die alone, how no one loves me, and all that nonsense, all on a different venue...
Hi.
I do the annoying tweet thing, but in blog form. I can only imagine how obnoxious it must be to constantly read different excerpts of "Falling Away With You" (go kill Minnow for that one... he introduced me). I also "quit" and "give up" on things every other day... but I always go back on my word.
Is this bitch really ever going to stop falling for dudes who couldn't care less about her?! She promised last week!
The answer here is... N-O.
So... for all that, I do apologize. I just hope you do realize it's never going to stop (although I did give up corduroy pants for good).

I propose we all cheer up for now... and laugh at the video from yesterday.
I even have an update on the whole thing!
I went to Corey's page... where, as expected, everyone was ripping on him. His response?

"they think I stuck something up my ass and it was between my crotch!! Its all slander!! And I'm taking action!! It was pills that fell out of my tights and I got arrested for possession!! Real talk!"

... and I suppose that makes it better... ???

Obviously a man's intelligence didn't make it to the top of my list until after I went to college.

Your Status

So... how about today's world-wide Facebook outage?
Ha. I blame it on the miracle of me uploading a photo album the day after returning from a trip.
It was too much for FB to handle.
AnoMALIE being punctual? #$%# whaaa?

Sorry, world.
Good thing it didn't last too long... I didn't keep people from status gems for too long.
I personally like my batch of status updates FB presented to me after the outage... these two being the most remarkable:

IT NEVER SEEMS TO AMAZE ME HOW DUMB SOME PEOPLE CAN BE

And numero dos:
to anyone else named (*Darcy*) : go die in a hole. i'm better. :D

Wanna play the guessing game?
One was written by a 14 year-old, the other by a 24 year-old... both males.
Go.

The first status made me laugh... because nothing makes me giggle more than a person who is overly confident in his/her own intelligence.
I'll usually be the first one to admit to being a dumbass. I often don't understand pop-cultural references... I shove my foot in my mouth more often than the average bear... and my common sense, while not the worst... is... sort of... not good-- I'm WAY too gullible.
However... I can be an asshole when it comes to correcting self-aggrandizing pricks. I sort of thrive on it.

The self-aggrandizing prick with a worse grasp of clichés than yours-truly? The 24 year-old.
I especially love how it appears gum has been stuck under his shift key. If that's not it... then I feel forced to ask:
WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?!
I'm glad you leave the job of being surprised by others' stupidity to the rest of us... by informing us of your inability to be amazed at the degree of "dumbness" a person may possess.
Son, you amaze me.

That leaves status number two to the 14 year-old.
That little fuck.
If anyone should crawl in a hole, it's him.

The two other people I know with the same name are awesome dudes... I highly doubt he is better than either.
One started his own company from scratch... entering the country with (the very cliché, but true story of many immigrants) only the clothes on his back and a few bucks in his pocket... turning the $30-whatever in his pocket into millions. This awesome dude's my father.
The little 14 year old needs to get out of his basement and quit playing Rock Band before he thinks he can ever be better than my Pops. Biaaatch!

The other person who, lamentably, must share his name with the little twat is Darcy Darcy.
Once again, this Darcy FAR exceeds little Emo-darcy's (oh yeah, the 14 year old is an emo little fuck) supposed "greatness."
While Emo-darcy spends his afternoons not shutting the fuck up about Kid Cudi (I fight the urge to stab my eyes out each time the little idiot goes on his FB music rants over which musical artists Kid Cudi can dominate-- answer here is "ALL," in case you were wondering), real Darcy is abroad researching some really interesting genetics shit. You know, stuff that matters and can REALLY change the world... not analyzing Kid Cudi's well-planned lyrical content that have abilities to touch the human core... and make Eminem cry after feeling so inadequate.
Plus, I like my Darcy... I'd be pretty upset if he died... anywhere... especially a hole. Come on, man!

I thought about telling him to die... but I mean... come on... I'm a 25 year old... I do my fighting in person... or on a blog.
I'll leave it to his mean little middle-school peers to cyber-bully his ass... I hear it's kind of popular.

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.

... and it continues!!

MORE weird shit just happened!!

Some dumb motherfucker almost knocked down the front door knocking like a fucking maniac!!
(Dad told me this as I stepped in the house from the gym. I saw the people leaving, saw some of the cement that surrounds the door freshly removed and on the floor, and asked what was up)

Dad answered the door with a knife in his hand (he was cooking at the time the pounding began, he didn't think to put it down).
It was this regular, middle-aged white dude, red with rage, huffing and puffing, as his Asian wife tried looking tough/mean behind him... scowling.
That changed to slight worry once they saw a white/sort of tall Mexican answer the door... holding a knife.

Man: WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! YOUR CAR ALMOST RAN MY WIFE OFF THE ROAD!!!!!
Dad: Which car?
Man: THAT BLUE ONE IN YOUR DRIVEWAY!!
Dad: When?
Man: JUST NOWWWW!!
Dad: Who said this?
Man: MY WIFE!!!
Wife: Yes!! A young guy was dirving that car fast down the road and wanted to drive me off the road just now!!
Dad: Well... that's weird... because, one: No young man lives here. Two: I drive that white truck you see out there, three: No one else is home... so no one has driven that car in over a day...
(Man stares angrily at his retard for a wife)
Man: You said it was this car!
Wife: Well... a car that... looked like that...
Dad: And finally- NO ONE comes to MY HOUSE and knocks like that.
Man: I'm sorry...
(Dad slams the door in his face)

I say, if you're going to be such a fucking macho man, you better make sure your cunt whore of an imbecile for a wife gets her shit straight.
How the fuck can you confuse my sister's Jetta for another one... when she has her Jetta decked out in Notre Dame stuff???
If you're going to bust down someone's front door with your bare hands, that's a pretty fucking big committment, so I assume you're ready to die, Leonidas.
That type of fucking shit gets you killed if you fuck with the wrong people...

Disrespect my dad at his house? Fuck you! Why don't you hop in your stupid car and REALLY get rammed off the road... near an icy ditch, dumb motherfuckers.

And teach your dumb cunt how to differentiate between cars next time, asshole... teach her how to get a licence plate number next time someone endangers her very "precious" life... you know... those little rectangles at the rear, often front, of an automobile.


People... WHAT. THE. FUCK?
Bajenle a sus huevos, pendejos.

Basket case

My patience as of recently has really been waning.

In church today (man, I was reminded why I avoid mass on Sundays... it gets PACKED) some folks sitting to my right were a little too eager to get their money in the basket, and instead of waiting for the basket to come to them-- so that they could pass it on down to us-- they shoved the money in the face of the people in front. That way, the nice people in the front row could put the money in the basket for them (make any sense? I mean, visually, because logically it just means they're fucking impatient retards).

I became irritated, and signed the letters "r-e-t-a-r-d-s" to my sister.
She pushed my hand down.

Sister: Shhh... what if they understand?!
Me: They don't even know how to work a basket!

I'm mean.
Grrr.

And talking about things that go "Grrr,"
¡GOYA! ¡GOYA!
¡CACHUN, CACHUN, RA, RA!
¡CACHUN, CACHUN, RA, RA!
¡GOYA!
¡¡UNIVERSIDAD!!

¡¡Vamos Pumas!! (pardon my super Mexican-ess right now, it just runs in my blood to do this. Although... I never get this excited for UNLV. I celebrate UNLV happiness by being a little more gringa and doing things like... screaming "Yeaaaaaaaah!!" all the time)

My boys made it to the final.
Santos 4- Pumas 5
God, I really need to get into la UNAM.

¿Cómo no te voy a querer?
¿Cómo no te voy a querer?
Si mi corazón azul es,
Y mi piel dorada,
Siempre te querré.

I don't care if they don't beat Atlante (I have a thing for them too, but my heart belongs to Pumas), I'm just glad they beat the unstoppable Santos.

And that's the end of my fútbol talk.
:D

La Señora Que Enseña

(Phone rings while I'm trying to watch my recorded episode of Wednesday's America's Next Top Model)

Me: Hello? (Damn... No! Right when Enrique's coming on... hurry up!!)
Unidentified Female: Hello?
Me: Umm... who is this?
UF: (utters monosyllabic word I can't pick up on)
Me: Excuse me?
UF: (utters the word again...)
Me: ??!!??
(15 seconds of silence)
Me: O...k...
Unidentified Female IDIOT: ...
Me: (internally) Fucking moron... I hate you (spoken) How may I help you?
UFI: Umm... is there a... lady... that.... she... the lady...
Me: (internally) If you were in my face right now, I'd fucking punch you right about now.
UFI: The lady teaches... she teaches... umm...
Me: She teaches catechism at St. Anne?!? (internally) fuck, was it that difficult, imbecile?!
UFI: Yes... she teaches.
Me: No, she's not here right now. (internally) now STFU and call later.
UFI: Oh... when can I... like... call again?
Me: (internally) Never. Ever. In your lifetime, moron. (spoken) After 2.
(click)

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I no longer teach catechism.
Some people should just... never reproduce. Seriously.

What pissed me off worse was that we were speaking Spanish and she still couldn't communicate properly. My mom's been teaching her beast of a child since September and she still doesn't get my mom's name down.
My mom's name is the same as the little Hispanic explorer girl on Nickelodeon. How can you not remember that?!

When Mom came home I told her the story:

Me: Y luego me dice (then she tell me),
Está la señora que enseña... que enseña... (is the lady that teaches... that teaches...)
Mom: Well, did you tell her I'm not an exhibitionist??

Funny how Spanish words have double meanings that make no sense in English ("enseña" can be "teach" or "shows" as in "the lady that shows" and you know how that Mexican double entendre works. "Ladies that show..." are what the older crowd use to refer to strippers. Niiice).
I get my double entendre prowess from Mom...
Haha.