Teddy Osita

Guess what this girl is doing right now...

I'm sleeping in my momma's bed, right next to the little lady.
She's such a little chicken, she always makes me do this when Dad leaves... not that I can complain... well, kinda, sometimes... when she smothers me-- yes, I'm smothered by a woman who stands no taller than 5'3" on a good day.
It's an activity I've always done, and when we go to Mexico, I always sleep next to my mother.
I guess that's something I can do without much problem since I've slept next to someone since I was about three, and D came into my life. I've learned to squeeze anywhere in order to get some shuteye-- I can sleep standing up.
I definitely don't need to feel someone with me in order to sleep peacefully, but it seems the people in my life DO. I oblige... since I'm into comforting others.
D and I still share a bed when we travel anywhere... We ended up sharing her bed when I visited her in Chicago. Before leaving the house, D still had moments where she'd walk into my room at night and ask if she could sleep in my bed (of course I'd let her... after making fun of her for a couple of minutes).

I'm my family's living, breathing teddy bear. This empty shell of a human manages to comfort her loved ones with just her presence.
... maybe it's because they think I'll be the first one taken out in case something bad goes down? They'll have a chance to run once they hear me getting killed...

... Eh, whatevs. I'd probably be cool with that anyway. 

Regarde

"Alors, Mathilde s'adosse bien droite sur sa chaise, croise les mains sur ses genoux, et le regarde. Dans la douceur de l'air, dans la lumière du jardin, Mathilde le regarde... Elle le regarde... Elle le regarde..."

People watching has to be one of my favorite activities. People underestimate the difficulty. Seriously.
Take my sister for instance, she doesn't enjoy the activity very much. She can't sit still without saying a word. She also can't look at people without making a face... or talking shit.
I tried getting her in the habit while she was living in Spain, since her roommates were dickheads who constantly ignored her, but it wouldn't work.
Look, dude, instead of being upset about spending so much time alone, be comfortable in your loneliness. Go outside, look around you and take it all in. Sure, if you hang out at the playground near your house you might get upset... and parents might start to suspect you're some sort of predator.
But I look like such a loser... just sitting there, alone.

I'm not gonna lie, I do feel like a loser at times during the people watching... but other times, I'll find myself doing it in a room full of my friends.
Is it creepy? Eh. Maybe. But it kills time... and it's somewhat comforting to point out the similarities you might have with complete strangers... and it'll also make you feel relief, noticing the shit you don't have in common with others.
She sucks on her bottom lip when nervous just like I do... and she's Japanese!
I wonder what kind of traumatic experience led that douchebag to be so mean to others?

And when it comes to a boy I like? Well... I will look, and I'll look... and I'll look.
You never know when it'll be your last.

Here's to very long titles in almost everything you do

I think I listened to too much Panic! at the Disco and
Fall Out Boy in my time away from home (I think that had a lot to do with the TINY amount of home-sickness I felt over there towards the end of my stay)...
Why? Because I made the title to this (Made-in-Spain, after I looked through a Bridal magazine and found a dress I liked better than the one I'm supposed to wear in June) sketch Not SO Stupid dress I COULD be excited about... :)

... Yeah... I'll quit doing that shit from now on.

(Totally off-topic: I'm so sad it's May!!)

Cleaning Lady

I hate fitting into stereotypes, but recently, I've really stuck to one that I especially hate:
Mexicans make good cleaning ladies.

I've spent the better of the last 3 days cleaning my side of the house (that's right, not just my room... but the entire wing that now belongs to me since Brother and Sister are gone having a blast in expensive ass Europe).
Sure, I took a break on Thursday for a while, since I went to go watch that one ABBA musical (as guilty as this makes me feel, I liked it... umm... kind of... a lot. I came out singing. Luckily, it left me after a day, but now I have an ABBA CD in my car... I listen to it on my way to the gym. Lame, I know... but they bring back some good memories of my childhood in Mexico).

I clean while my mom plays Guitar Hero.
If anyone that has rhythm would be playing GH, I wouldn't mind as it would provide nice music to clean along to... but my mom... oh man!
I'm convinced Mom is the WORST instrument player in the universe.
Absolute worst.
I love Mom to pieces and everything, but my God! She's terrible!
She nearly breaks the little guitar as she hammers away at the buttons... and I feel this horrible pain in my gut... knowing she's going to break my controller.
She has a baaaaaaaad sense of pace... and as hard as I try, I can't beat it into her (seriously, I slap along to it. Granted, I don't slap her, I'm not that barbaric, but I do--and have-- slapped almost every part of my body).

Mom, it's "one-two-three, one-two-three!" Not "one.... two.. three. Onetwo.. three."

I fear my thighs will start to bleed if I slap them one more time to help mom keep the beat.

For a music lover, she's... very bad... very, very bad.
And then she goes off and works on the same song for hours.
If I hear "Black Magic Woman" one more time, I'm going to punch a hole through the television... I've had enough of that damn song on Easy.
Same goes for "Slow Ride." I think I can do that song with my back turned to the television... I've had to slap the beat to that one far too many times.

Anyway, as I hear Mom butcher the beginning to Black Magic Woman for the fortieth time (and then fight the urge to stab myself with the nearest, sharpest, object), I sit in the hall that connect Little Sister's room to mine.
Every other area is clean (except my room... that thing is still a hazard no one is allowed in besides me), all I have to clean is this: (you see those bags down there? All trash... mainly boxes and old nail polish, that I've cleaned out of the top drawers--fuck me if that's not the correct term... what the fuck do I know about homes and the English language?-- I have yet to clean the bottom cabinets, and I'm so scared)
And I'll tell ya what, I'm having a bitch of a time.
How the hell... why the hell did we let it get so damn sloppy?
I feel like I should submit that photo to an "I Spy" book publisher.
The most random shit can be found in that mess (Seriously, what the hell is an Airplane Pilot Snoopy Christmas ornament doing there?).
It's so disgusting, and super DUPER embarrassing.
There are things there that we've been hoarding since 1999.
1999!
I was 14! Little Sister was 11/12... and it shows:



I've found dozens of these note cards in the drawers closest to Little Sister's room... all in her handwriting.
She has recipes, games... poems... notes... a ton of crap just written there.

I've found enough makeup to start my own Broadway show...
I have about 100 hair ties... and 1000 bobby pins.
Headbands that Madonna would have murdered for back in the 80's...
And some very... umm... interesting jewelry/makeup I used back in the day when I was in my Raver phase (thank God that's over...).

I also lost a ton of things found in the third, upper drawer due to a bad blue-eyeshadow-incident. I guess it broke... and all the powdery stuff spilled over the contents of the drawer. Most of the stuff had to go... and the blue won't leave the actual drawer. Mimi from The Drew Carey Show would have killed for that eye-shadow that went to waste in my drawer.


As long as I'm Mexican, this type of thing will never happen again...

The Gun Show

I had "the nightmare that wouldn't end" last night.

What's one of my greatest fears?
Aliens.
What was the subject of my dream?
Aliens.
Was I scared?
I thought I was going to suffer a heart attack!

I kept waking up... sort of sweating (terrified, I tell you), and each time I'd go back to sleep, the dream would just keep going.
How come that never happens when I'm dreaming about holding long conversations with Cristiano Ronaldo? Or when I dream that I'm watching him stretch and flex prior to his soccer match?

Talking about flexing and stretching, I have a new horrible habit I'm trying to eliminate.

I've never really suffered from that whole, narcissistic syndrome where you just have to catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror whenever you walk by it... or even your reflection from a shiny surface.
I actually do the opposite, where I look away... because I hate seeing myself. Really.
However, recently I've caught myself flexing and stretching when in front of a mirror or any reflective surface. The good thing is that I do this when at home... so the issue hasn't gotten out of hand just yet.

When I catch myself doing this embarrassing thing... I think

What the hell am I doing?
Who the hell do I think I am?
Relax, Madonna, put the gun show away!
Do you have a band-aide? Because I'm ::flex:: cuttttttttt!!

Ok, I don't say the last one... well... only as a joke to my little sister.

I'm trying my best to kick the habit... but how can you not check out your squat form when you see a full-length mirror? I only do it to better my stance... that's it.

I can already hear the neighbors:

God, first she goes out in her mismatching pajamas to feed her noisy ass dog... and now you have her doing squats in front of her sliding door... what the fuck? They didn't warn us about this before we rented this house!

To which I'd retort:

Get the fuck out my neighborhood, you fucking trashy ass Californians (not that all Californians are trashy. Just... when a Californian goes trashy, he/she goes trashy)! And take your four trailer homes with you (there's like, seven different men living with this one woman! and they're not even related)! Oh... and one more thing, NO! We don't rent this house like Mom made you believe! No one in this neighborhood does! There's a reason they're called "custom homes," pricks... and just be glad I comb my hair before I come outside... and quit smoking by my fig tree! You're polluting the tree's and Tyson's air!

Man, I hate my neighbors. Sorry about that tangent.

You down with FCC? (Yeah, you know me)

I like commercials.

Is that so wrong?

It's one of my many guilty pleasures (sometimes I do wonder why the hell I can't have normal guilty pleasures like... eating Ben & Jerry's while watching a sad movie and crying my eyes out. I've always heard of that being some sort of "girly" guilty pleasure, but I've never had Ben & Jerry's--at least not that I can recall-- and I don't really bawl my eyes out during a movie).

Now, I'm not talking late-night local commercials... no, those frustrate me and carry the potential of putting me to sleep.
I'm talking expensive, well thought out commercials.
Ones with the potential of making me think, making me angry, but mostly, just making me laugh.

I've never lived in any other country that isn't either Mexico or the U.S., but I'm sure regardless, I'd have Mexican television commercials on my top five list of commercials I enjoy sitting down to watch.

Mexican commercials beat out U.S. commercials when it comes to making me laugh.
No, it's not because Mexican commercials are better... because I really can't claim one being better than the other (although when it comes to wit, I have to say Mexico has a lot of it... especially when it comes to certain subjects. But then again, some view points held by Mexicans kind of bother me... like... sometimes they'll be hardcore stereotypical about certain ethnic groups and I find it to be slightly... racist... bigoted... you know, things along those lines... whereas in the U.S., the FCC will fine folks for not being PC).

No, I enjoy Mexican commercials because they always find something to write at the bottom of the screen concerning the product they're advertising.
Doesn't seem that funny at first thought... but damn, are they entertaining.

Examples?
1)This really good chocolate bar commercial's running... and throughout the entire commercial you'll see medium sized writing in white that'll read "Chocolate gives energy."

2) Coca-Cola commercial is running, and in the same way as in the chocolate commercial, the letters will say "Haz deporte por lo menos 30 minutos al dia" which translates to "Exercise at least 30 minutes a day."

3) Shampoo commercial is running, and the bottom of the screen will read "Limpieza es salud" aka "Cleanliness is health."

Of this last one I have proof of its existence: There I was playing around with my camera in Mexico... and I was going to delete that picture (because, while it looks like I enjoy taking those sorts of pictures--I do have one on my Myspace-- the flash really does bother me), but then I cought a glimpse of the image in the background... and it was like finding gold!

Yes, I know all you can see are those two little boys in soccer uniforms, but the commercial was about some dude getting ready to hang out with his bitch childhood friend who was a little jerk to him back in the day... and now as adults, the kid that used to get picked on is super hot. Why? Because he uses *_Brand name here_* shampoo, that's why! (because I know I'm all over a guy whose hair smells nice... ??)


I just love to see what they come up with (if I hear it's a new commercial and I'm busy in the kitchen/bedroom/outside/etc, I will actually stop what I'm doing and run to go check out what's written below the commercial).

So far, my favorite one has been the one about the chocolate.
The first time I read that one I was laughing about it for weeks... I even went around chanting that each time I bought anything containing chocolate.

You know, I've read that Latinos are coming down with diabetes at an alarming rate recently... and I'm guessing that... maybe... just possibly... the thought of "chocolate giving you energy" might have something to do with that...
(I'm being sarcastic... obviously)