Girls aren't all bad

What was I doing when the motherfucking Cubs broke the curse and won the World Series on Wednesday night?
Angrily screaming "A MOTHERFUCKER BETTER BE DEAD!" as I sat in stand-still traffic for nearly an hour.

The kickoff to the long-weekend girl's getaway to Palm Springs started rough, being stuck in a horrible traffic jam in the most crucial moments of the World Series. Had it not been for that dickhead wrecking his car on a post, I would have made it to Kelley's place in time to catch at least the last three innings of the World Series ('cause who the fuck wants to sit through an entire game?). Instead, I very frustratedly sat in the passenger seat of my friend's car, reloading my google app, eating my nails, pulling my hair, and grunting like an animal.
But that was the only bump on the road (har-har... pun-y. I write like shit, get over it), and no, no dead bodies, just a dumb motherfucker running into a post in his stupid convertible... probably watching the game on his phone... but he lived.

I complain a lot about females and how I don't tend to get along with them, but this weekend was fantastic... though one female was driving me crazy at times... and she was not Kelley... or her pets. Now that I think about it, I hung out with pure estrogen this weekend.
And I could not have had a better time (well, maybe if I had gone to an amusement park-- because I get obnoxiously happy when I risk my life). I laughed so hard, I spit a mouth-full of water on my pants... I hadn't done that in years.

I was surrounded by animals... I hadn't done that in a minute either. I tried my hardest to win the approval of a cat, and I sure won it. That shit had me feeling all sorts of Snow White-y... a swollen Snow White due to her cat allergy she refuses to acknowledge or respect. I will NOT refuse to pet a friendly kitty, sinuses and itchy eyes be damned. Little homegirl even slept next to me on my final night, occasionally hugging my left leg (sure, her claws would "gently" wake me sometimes... but what if she was having a nightmare?).

So... yeah... girls getaway to the desert, night drives through Joshua Tree National Park, shopping goodass deals, eating burgers every afternoon, and listening to "oldies" rock... while going home to a couple of dogs and a cat, made me forget how heartbroken and disappointed I was in humanity.

But I'm sure I'll discuss my disappointment in the very near future.

PJs

Lent begins today.

I decided to forgo the entire "I'm not cussing" promise, it's never going to happen... and like I've said before, I actually turn into a worse person when I give up on cussing.

I'm still dealing with some shock issues... from what I've seen and heard these last four weeks.
The issues range from that cheating scandal with the Costa Ricans, to a couple of terrible health issues (not my own), to hearing the most unexpected person trashtalking me.
I'm all sorts of sad... like, disappointed sad, angry sad, heartbroken sad, confused sad... but not deep-depression sad.
It's a sad that makes me turn into a mute... because my brain is having such a shitty time processing everything.

So... as I sat in church today (I realized 30 seconds after taking my seat that I was wearing MY PAJAMA TOP... YES... THAT'S how mindfucked I am currently) I kept thinking about what to do this season.
There's the whole dietary upheaval thing I'm gonna do (I MUST... for SCIENCE!), but that isn't going to make me a better person... it usually makes me a worse person, with my low-carb/no-carb rage.
What can I do to become a better person? My heart is so... shocked... it's kind of reluctant to be a better person. I am bitter, and confused, and... disappointed.
I'm on a kick right now, an "I refuse to continue being a doormat!" kick, that turning the other cheek when I feel wronged seems counterintuitive.

So... I uncomfortably sat in church, in my pajama top (as though this were some sort of nightmare, but it was real life), wondering what the hell I was going to do. Then, with Mass yet to begin, I hear an angel, sitting directly in front of me-- this 60-something-year old lady, hair white as snow, say "SHIT! I FORGOT TO TURN OFF MY PHONE! Oh! I mean, CRAP! I don't even KNOW how to turn off my phone!"
I laughed as her group of equally snow-haired ladies joined me.

I'm gonna laugh. This Lent, I'm going to laugh. Maybe I won't be a super nice girl, but I'm gonna laugh every day... just to fight off this ugly, dark cloud of "WTF?!" that's trying to creep into my mind.

I WENT TO CHURCH IN MY PAJAMA TOP, GUYS! My night-mask-stained, sweaty pajama top. My gosh... man oh man.

Ranty pants.

I don't want to be a mopey, angry girl... so I try and find shit to entertain myself.
This time, entertainment has been provided by one of my relatives... who I believe is somewhere around 16 years old (not quite sure because I see this kid probably once a year, on a good year).

Ok, so we all know I'm a girl of few words, yet I still carry this fame (in my family) of being a scandalous asshole. This fame has made me become nearly invisible on FB (god bless Twitter... I really let loose there), heaven forbid I upset one of my asshole relatives who lack the IQ points required to understand sarcasm (have y'all seen that Cara Delevingne interview that was labeled "awkward" because the imbecile hosts didn't understand her sarcasm? This one right here. THAT'S MY FUCKING LIFE! Facial expressions included. If I could be any one celebrity's friend, Cara would be my pick.. she's the fucking shit. But enough of that tangent). So I just shut the fuck up and say nothing... wouldn't want to upset an aunt or uncle or friend of a friend.

Well, anyway, this cousin, the 16 year old, is... interesting. She too has many rants... but I feel they're uh... interesting. HOWEVER, her rants get family support... which... dumbfounds me.
This morning, I woke up to her most recent rant:

I read that and did my usual sighing while covering my eyes with both hands... partly because I find the rant annoying, and partly because it frustrates me to see my family (who find MY rants ridiculous and embarrassing) applauding this.

Please know that when I rant, I am absolutely at my wit's end, ready to punch shit.
AND STILL, I think I craft my shit somewhat thoughtfully (unless I'm about to literally fight a bitch and my brain isn't working properly).
Here's an example of some shit I've been involved in this week:

Like I say in the email, I only wrote because I was encouraged to speak my mind... so I did... as calmly as possible. That's how I complain... almost fucking apologizing for feeling the way I am. Is it normal? I don't know... but it's what I do.

Anyway, my email elicited this response:

For some reason, it really fucking irritated me ("Are you trying to BUY me? Fuck you, son! I don't put up with that shit! I don't need your fucking charity!" When I'm aggravated, I think shit like that. It's the ghetto, yet dignified Mexican in me. You won't catch me accepting freebies willingly-- I'll shove that shit back in your hands), so I responded with this:



That email only made them respond immediately with a request to please speak to me over the phone.
And I did.
And I turned into the demure, submissive, apologetic fucking mute I am (thought I still refused the freebies, PROFUSELY).
Goddamn it.

I never win when I rant, I swear.
Whatever. I know I made sense... sort of. Who gives a shit if I don't gain support, but instead lose it.

... Still makes me laugh, though.
(Want to see me metaphorically "drop the mic"? Don't give me a real mic)

My episode

And the texts have begun...

First person to notice

second person, randomly, a few hours later.

Good news: I appear BRIEFLY. Even better news: you don't even know what I sound like.
Win-win.

And so, this is how I made my first appearance on the small(er) screen.
Reality TV is fucking hilarious.
My favorite part is the scripting. 

Yeah, but why?

Merry Christmas? It's still Christmas in America, right?

I'm no longer the villain... everything eased up yesterday. People stopped being scared around me, and I stopped feeling like slapping people across the face, finally.
Everyone is behaving themselves, not pouting around the house like spoiled, needy little jerks anymore.
Yesterday (Christmas Eve) we did have a minor speed bump at the US Embassy, though.
We tagged along with my brother to his place of work, since he was going to give his Marine friend a hot plate of Mexican Christmas Food from our Christmas party. We wanted to join Brother inside, but knew we couldn't enter because we didn't have clearance (I do, however, Bro needs to inform them of my visit days in advance). He told us we could take photos OUTSIDE of the embassy while he ran inside and accompanied his Marine buddy for a bit so he wouldn't feel so alone this Christmas.
I personally, did not want to do the photo session sans Brother, however, Clemson and Sister were little dummies who were overconfident and got out of the car. I didn't want to be left alone in the vehicle, especially with this one creepy Greek boy hanging around the car.
So I ran and caught up with the rest of the gang.

Well, guess what.
We got in trouble.
Greek soldiers approached us and asked us what we were doing (who the fuck is shocked by this? What kind of fucking idiot is shocked by this, I ask!). Clemson had already had her photo taken, and I was already shaking my head in disapproval (uttering my typical shit of "I told these bitches... but did they listen? Of course not! Nobody listens to AnoMALIE," as I stand several feet away), by the time the soldiers reached us (they screamed from the other side of the embassy).
Cool Soldier: What are you doing?
Clemson: Taking a photo?
Cool Soldier: Yeah, but why?
Clemson: Because we're waiting for their brother to get out.
Cool Soldier: Oh, whose brother works there?
Sister and I raise our hand like two scolded five-year-olds.
Cool Soldier: Oh... you do? Where is he right now?
Sister: Inside?
Cool Soldier: Oh... ok. Ok then. Go ahead. Go on.
Cool soldier walks away.
FIVE SECONDS LATER a thunderous voice starts screaming something in Greek.
Twenty seconds later big, mean greek soldier (with a meanass unibrow) starts chastising us.
MeanSoldier: What are you doing?
Clemson: Taking photos?
Mean Soldier: Why? What are you?
All of us: ... ??
MeanSoldier: Are you GREEK?
Clemson: We're all American.
MeanSoldier: Why do you want photos?
Clemson: Because... this is my embassy?
MeanSoldier: Sorry for the delay, but you're going to have to show us all your photos. And then delete all of your photos. I will HAVE to watch you delete all the photos of the embassy. For ah, you know, security reasons. Terrorism reasons, you know? We can't let you do that.

So there we stood, Sister and I annoyed out of our minds, watching Pacemaker and Clemson showing and deleting their photos in front of Greek and US soldiers... on Christmas Eve.

However, rather than be angry about this, the entire situation made us laugh... hysterically... once we were in the safety of our car.

And that is how I chill the fuck out.

It's a trap

The word was "Ethnic Cleansing" and it won.
"Sorry, AnoMALIE, but... looks like you're out."

...
I swear, this girl is crazy. Each time, each and every time she has some passive-aggressive, sort-of inappropriate, incendiary comment to toss my way.

Ohhhhh girl...
This is how I know I'm going to purgatory, and not straight to hell... because while I could take the easy way out and just knock this girl out, I just blush, smile, look at the floor, and tell myself she doesn't know what she's doing.

I also feel validated in seeing how the rest of the room does not find her comments hilarious... but rather out of line. They sit there in irritated silence... and keep the party going.

"___. It's a trap!" was my card...
The answer that made the entire room roar with laughter, and thus I felt compelled to select as a winner?
"My vagina."
Musketeer, homegirl's hubby, was the one responsible for that response.
We were all laughing pretty loudly... then, OF COURSE, homegirl has to interrupt.
"Well, IS IT?" she asked.
"A trap?" I ask.
I shrugged.
"Awww... I think your face says it all."

??
Why, man? I have to laugh and wonder why of all people, I always seem to be the one others choose to randomly hate.
I'm sighing so hard right now. Sigh sigh sigh.

Guten what the fuck?

I've been back for a few days now, and I did try updating on many occasions, but something always distracted me (Friday was the closest I got to actually writing something up, then suddenly I woke up at one in the morning with the sound of Jimmy Fallon laughing hysterically-- my face buried on my laptop's keyboard, confused as fuck).
I'm freakishly tired. I've never suffered such a terrible case of jet-lag as I am now. I am HARDCORE narcoleptic... I even unnerve babies who stare at me as if I were some freak of nature... BABIES! Little creatures who fall asleep mid-meal-- with spoons in their mouths 'n shit-- stare at me for falling asleep as I sit on a couch.

But anyway, here I am, finally sitting down (actually, I'm laying on my belly as I sit across my bed, simultaneously watching a "Snapped" marathon as I type this. It's how I do. That show's fuckin' hard) and writing something.

Onward with the stories and recaps and life lessons and travel advice bullshit I can still remember.
I'll start with Berlin, since that was my first stop and the one place where I interacted most with society.

The day before my flight to Europe, Mooney gave me a copy of in-flight German-- the supposed "basics" of the vocab I'd need while traveling (I'm not mocking Mooney here. I'm mocking my inability to grasp the BASIC level of German).
"The basics"...
... YEAH.
I was pretty excited about "learning" as I shoved in my earbuds at my terminal in Philly (my first pit stop from Vegas... "Pit Stop"... how pun-ny). It took all of two minutes for me to be COMPLETELY OVERWHELMED.
THE FUCK is up with the German language?!
You know where I panicked? Where it was trying to teach me how to say "My name is..." WHY THE FUCK must there be so many fucking sounds and syllables... and sounds?! I just want to greet you, for fuck's sake. That's it.
"Guten tag."
"Guten morgen."
FUCK ANYTHING ELSE. I can't even fucking distinguish between the "shon" and "shun" sound... I'm over here saying "thank you, cute" instead of "thank you very much." I'm fucking retarded! I'm good, dawg, I'm good... I'll just act like a fucking mute for six days.
I sat horrified for another... probably ten minutes-- max-- listening... trying to have some of the information stick... but the moment I realized I couldn't even COUNT in German, I took my earbuds out and frustratedly made my way to buy a fucking cupcake.
As I angrily chomped on my chocolate carb-ilicios delight, a couple (very blind couple, if you ask me... I looked like an angry, disheveled mess... a dangerous Mexican criminal with a fucking massive sweet-tooth-- murdering the fuck out of my chocolatey baked good like some lions ripping up a wildebeest carcass in the Serengeti) took the seats next to me.
The lovely couple was quite young, with a little dude who was probably younger than two years old... and they were German... and they were arguing.
The more I listened to the argument, the more upset I became... because I couldn't understand a SINGLE thing... well, except when he told her something about the bathroom.
From the very few words I could pick out, I made out the couple was arguing about cookies and chocolate-- no lie. They kept saying "Cooookies" and then waving around all angry and shit... and then I'd make out the word "chocolate."
Arguing about cookies and chocolate... fucking legit to me... I can see how people can be passionate about such things, I know I am.
Well... looks like I'm fucked. Yey.

I listened some more to my in-flight German torment (my second pit stop was in BCN... where I strolled the terminals munching on beef jerky and repeating shit like "Where is my wife?!" in German. ...Really, buddy, if you must ask that question... Who are you? Scott Peterson?)... and next thing I knew, I was getting ready to land in good ol' Berlin (And no, I still didn't know how to count in German... but I HAD mastered how to say "Water, please"... so that was cool).
I was no longer "bewildered," since everyone on my flight was a Spanish tourist... even an entire class of stupid little high schoolers was with me. I KNEW what was being said up until it was time for me to get out of baggage claim... where the hottest soldiers EVER stopped me.
"Guten tag."
I stared blankly at him.
I shoved my passport into his hand.
What the fuck am I doing? He only greeted you, dickhead.
He smiled, and immediately started speaking English.
"What brings you to Germany?"
I was drawing a blank.
"I'm visiting... my... little brother?"
The hot soldier smiled and let me go.

Give me a moment to swoon real quick...
Ahhhhhhh, German men....
Yeah... that's what's up.

Anyway, I immediately saw JC... and the smile he flashed me was... so sweet... I can't describe it.
I smiled and waved like a maniac... total contrast to his mild, gentle greeting for me.
JC carried my suitcase as we maneuvered our way to the ticket kiosk thingamajigger outside, where this cute older lady working the tickets asked him a question.
I stood there like the idiot I felt like, and I'm pretty sure JC told her I didn't speak German... and I KNOW she asked him if I was his girlfriend (I don't know much, but I SURE as FUCK know the word for "girlfriend" in numerous languages, German included).
The cute lady then proceeded to interact with me using hand gestures... and I responded in the same fashion... both of us standing there like two very animated mutes.
She was the cutest thing ever, not allowing me to carry my own suitcase, pointing at JC and then "flexing"... basically telling me I shouldn't carry the suitcase, but let the "strongman" carry it. This tickled my heart, and made me damn near snort-laugh. I managed to remember the word "danke!" and so, I told her so with this giant smile on my face, and she proceeded to hug me and wave goodbye.

Me: Jesus Christ! If this is how everyone treats each other around here, I might just "lose" my passport and never go home.
JC: Well... people here ARE pretty cool... but like with everything, don't be too trusting. We have all sorts of people... not just friendly old ladies.

While I obviously heeded JC's warning, my exchange with Berliners was nothing but positive. They would begin their conversations with me in German, but the moment I'd smile and say "um... I... only speak English..." while shrugging and feeling like a dick, they'd switch it up and go straight into English for me.
I was in fucking love.
Such a wonderful relief to deal with that understanding behavior than what we do here when someone says "I don't speak English" (scoff, rolling of the eyes, "This is AMERICA! SPEAK ENGLISH!" Although from experience, the French have that negative attitude times five).
Shit, I even went to a couple of parties and danced with the Berliners... I drank with them until I was dizzy and sleeping in the hallway of my apartment complex... I even shouted at the television in unison with the giant group of impassioned Germans as we watched the Champs League final-- it was fucking magical.

Germany, in general, would have stayed fucking magical, had that stupid fucking Monday not occurred...
but I'll get REALLY in depth about that retarded move in my next post.

I'm late for a stupid party, and this is a good spot to end this entry, since it's positive and quite chirpy.
It put me in a good mood to reminisce about this good shit... and I won't ruin it with talk about the only negative thing that happened in my entire trip... shit was heart-wrenching. No room for that here.

Mis caritas

THOROUGHLY convinced I was put on this Earth to show people what naturally awkward posing is all about:

Am I happy to be there? That's none of your fucking business!
JK!
I was sick... and I think my good ol' buddy G could sense it.
Homie was onto me and my virulence...

95% of the time, I seriously look like this each time I make eye-contact with ANYONE.

I love these kids... though I'm sure my face says otherwise.
I can put money on my exact thought being "Ufff... not sure about that..."

Ahhh, good times.
I'm never going to grow up.

Fishy 2013

Haaaa! And just when I make my resolutions, astrology stops me in my tracks and freaks me the fuck out.
It's on the money, not gonna lie.
How the fuck is this... how do they... fuck, man...
(Like how I play catch-up? I'm a master of procrastination!)
Check it. My year according to... some astrology dude or something like that:

2013 is nothing short of stellar for you, Pisces. By summer, you're ready for the grand water-trine influence as Saturn, Jupiter and Neptune all flow together in Water signs to make magic. Your powers of psychic perception and healing have never been stronger. Your ability to create glamour, weave fantastical illusion and provide invisible-but-potent healing to others is beyond measure. Others will feel inextricably drawn to you without understanding why. This is excellent for your star potential as others sense something extraordinary and sublime in your presence. People want to have you around as much as possible even without fully comprehending why. The best part is that people are willing to pay big bucks for whatever it is you have to offer and no matter how intangible it may seem. For once, you won't feel like the oddball, freak or the perpetually misunderstood alien in the crowd but rather the mysterious-yet-sought-after special someone that others cannot resist. It's all part of your otherworldly glamour and mystique. Work it, Pisces! (No idea about this, but that would be dope. The bold is what I find to be true, obviously)

Let love rule in 2013, Pisces. Born under the sign of compassion, you live for the exchange of true heartfelt energy. Romance for you extends far beyond just the coupling relationships of dating and mating. You're often in love with your entire social circle, not to mention animals, plants and even some beautiful seemingly inanimate objects. (but not like that lady who "married" the Eiffel Tower...) All is alive and endowed with feeling in the life of empathic Pisces. There's a reason you're called the 'bleeding heart of the zodiac'. You tend to fall in love with those you need to help, educate or save in some way. In 2013, you're adding the requirement of long-term stability to the mix. Your standards for a serious partner are more rooted in loyalty and consistency than ever before. You want staying power, which means giving up the unobtainable relationship pattern. The part of you that's drawn to the projected ideal of a person is being replaced with a serious reality check, compliments of Saturn in Scorpio (NO MAAAAAMES! How the FUCK did you know that?!). Intimacy is now what you crave, and that requires stability, reliability and trust. Such character traits need to be shown to you in the real world from now on. No longer will you fall in love with someone's potential. You've been burned too many times trying to play the role of the wounded healer, Pisces. (BOOM! Left me speechless. ... the fuck is up with that?! P.S. I don't "crave" intimacy. Intimacy can go suck a dick)

The powerful eclipse points only intensify your desire for a solid mate (NEGATIVE!). You also find that you're more drawn to someone incredibly grounded if not bordering on earthy, someone real and sensual instead of fleeting and elusive (well, that DOES sound interesting. "Someone sensual"... hahahaha!). You want more tangible proof of your partner's affections instead of allowing yourself to get lost in love for the sake of love. You realize that you have to relate with your mind and the instincts of your body just as much as your heart. Letting your overly tolerant and permissive heart make all of the decisions has only proven detrimental in the past. Employing more discrimination and higher standards can only serve you well in the elimination process. Your friends and family will be thrilled instead of having to counsel you off the ledge of yet another self-sabotaging relationship where you give everything and receive little to nothing (sorry about that, guys...). 2013 is all about radical transformation and self-empowerment -- especially in intimate relationships. Rock on, gold dust woman! (Money... fucking money here. DAMN IT, creepy astrology!)

Success in your career endeavors is contingent upon the amount of energy you're willing to put into expanding your current sphere of expertise. You can sense that it's time to widen your professional horizons, Pisces. When you're fully able to access the power of your imagination, there's no limit to what you can do (ya heard?). 2013 brings plenty of potential for enhancing your current skill set. The eclipse patterns impact both your higher and lower mind, giving you a profound opportunity to tap into your deep well of wisdom. Your work is important to the world, and you're finally starting to realize that you have knowledge to share. No more playing invisible, Pisces. It's selfish not to share your gifts. (My bad...)

Neptune continues to shower your world with glamour. If you're not in high art, fashion, dance, spirituality, healing or anything that involves your imagination, you're probably not feeling fulfilled or even close to living up to your true potential. This is the year to pull everything into alignment. The beauty of being born under the constellation of Pisces is that you're endowed with infinite gifts all seeded in the depths of your imagination. All you have to do is create enough structure and discipline not to float into a dream world that never takes form in the physical universe (Well, I'll be fucking damned if that's not fucking on the money!). Once you start to materialize your vision, you're golden. This is what 2013 is all about for you, Pisces.

Scary.

But like... true.

"Gold Dust Woman"... I might like that one more than... I think it was "Enraged Shark"... 

Nah, I'll always choose "Enraged Shark." Suits me better.

Nah man!

Dudes in question are my COUSINS, hence my reaction.
Gross.

My friends crack me the fuck up... but you already knew that.
This conversation came about because I was furious yesterday after this fucking idiot tried hollering at me. It's the guy I forgave a couple of months back, the one who I considered my ONE TRUE enemy... the ONE person I hated with all of my heart.
SOMEHOW, this act of kindness was misunderstood... and he somehow translated my peace offering as me being OK with him flirting.
NAH BITCH! Hold your motherfucking horses! I would not touch your dick if I were held at gunpoint. FUCK. OFF.
And so... one of my biggest pet-peeves once again rears its ugly head.
There is only one person I'd ever want to flirt with, and I do that fucking ABYSMALLY.

I hate how dudes, FRIENDS, often misunderstand my kindness for... wanting some dick? I mean... dude, when have I EVER given that vibe? Seriously.
Luckily, my closest guy-friends don't suffer from this problem... at least the vast majority of them, as far as I know. It's always those guys I shrug at and accept when they ask me to be friends.
Homie, you said "friend." Had you given the slightest indication that you wanted something else I would have thrown you as far as I fucking could with the help of my car.

Ahhhh... I just love delusional people.

Soul mates?

Today marks my parent's 30th year of wedded bliss...

Dad: Feels like it's only been a day!
Mom: (mumbles) ... under water!

Obviously I inherited Mom's bleak outlook on love and marriage. The woman knows how to crack me the fuck up.

My folks are hardly soul mates... but they know how to deal with each other's bullshit... and trust me, BOTH have some horrible, annoying habits.
Me: Mom, had I been you, I would have divorced Dad ONE WEEK into the marriage. Fuck that shit.
(one week into the marriage, Dad straight up told her he only married her so she could cook and wash the dishes, like ALL women are SUPPOSED to. Total romantic, that man)

I'm not one to put up with someone else's bullshit for the sake of companionship... so... I'll just be alone. Forever.
Unless I find my soulmate... which is improbable... because he's always married or in some committed relationship.

Truth be told, my heart will always belong to him:

Abundance of symbolism.
Don't expect anyone to catch it, per usual.

CANDoMALIE

I'm going to start a section on here: Candid AnoMALIE.

I get a huge kick out of finding candid photos of me on Facebook.
I'm not talking about photos my friends intentionally shot in my direction and I did the "Donkey-AnoMALIE" thing where I look away like a jackass. I'm talking about photos where I was clearly not the intended target... photos where you could say I'm... in the way.
I fucking love those.
Today's photo comes courtesy of one of my cousin's friends, who was aiming for my cousin--the birthday girl-- and since she decided to sit next to me as she cut the cake, I make an accidental appearance. I'm pretty fucking candid on this... I'm definitely minding my own business, and busting a HARDCORE AnoMALIE-ism:

My famous "Don't you fucking touch me!" pose.

I laughed for about a minute, non-stop, until I had to catch my breath.
Typical AnoMALIE. The party's crackin' and I'm sitting down... entertained by the little girl doing suicides (breakdancing move where the dance ends as the breaker violently drops to the floor on his back/chest... that move that looks like it hurts like hell. Yeah, a three year old was doing that) on the giant footrest next to me.
I'm easily entertained, and never really give a shit about being around all the fuss... and this clearly showcases my attitude.
I can assure you all I'm really thinking is "Who the fuck taught her that? Everyone in her family moves like a hermit crab. Kids can be cool... I guess."

Oh, sweet baby Jesus... there is no doubt in my mind that regular folk think I'm a weirdo...
I totally am.

Girl Crush

"You're totally my girl-crush! ... in a non-sexual way."
I nearly choked on my spit from giggling so hard after a friend told me that last night.

I don't think I have a "normal" girl-crush... it's just Gwen Stefani. I can't believe a fellow girl finds me cool enough to mark me as one of her girl-crushes... since I have such terrible luck with girls who hate me without even knowing me.

Maybe if I keep this whole "being pleasant" resolution of mine, less girls will be publicly embarrassing/attacking/abusing me.

... a girl can dream, right?

Outta body

I feel I must be clear on a point from yesterday's post:
I am NOT in love with Josh.
I did not cry over a "missed opportunity."
It's more of... a sad realization. It's a typical AnoMALIE-ism.
Here, I spent my years feeling alienated, completely tormented by my peers... feeling as if no one understood me, much less liked me... and then years later comes some dude out of the woodwork with these... lines that are straight out of a soap opera.

Do you... understand how much your words could have helped me back when I was getting hurt?
The only reason I'm not dead right now is because I'm my own damn cheerleader, and I have always had this very idiotic sense of hope that refuses to die.

I'm just... so fucking awed by how my life is working out. It's so fake and unbelievable. There is rarely a week I don't sit back, and extremely bewildered wonder "IS THIS FUCKING REALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?! WHAT THE FUUUUCK?!"

I have moments where I can just sense myself having an out-of body experience... wishing I had popcorn to munch on while watching everything unfold.
Check it, dude! You're walking alone, in a dark street, fireworks going off in the distance... and your childhood friend comes out to you as having always had these extraordinarily sweet feelings for you! And you, like the imbecile you are, just storm off like a cow looking for leafy greens. GOOD SHIT, AnoMALIE!

I can't even cry about... it's so fucking comical to me... so goddamn cynically hilarious.

Ahhhhh... it's so incredible. So amazing... in a sad way... in an enraging way...
but fuck it.

I fucking mean THICK!

This isn't me...

I've been saying it for almost two years now (JESUS CHRIST!), but the person I am today is definitely not the real me.
I'm so full of anger, and frustration... and so incredibly heartbroken and jaded... and cynical... I'm not the girl I've always been.
I am a nice girl. I love laughing. I smile for the STUPIDEST shit. I feel horrible whenever I hurt someone, whether it is physically or emotionally, I feel like absolute garbage knowing I make someone feel a tiny bit bad. I daydream A LOT. I hug A LOT. I'm very tactile with others... holding hands has always been something I dig. I'm silly... and REALLY playful. I LOVE to skip.... fuck, I love to skip. I say I hate getting tickled, but the moment someone starts a tickle-war, I set out to win that shit-- I WILL find your ticklish spot. If it is in my power to make someone smile, I. Will. Do. It.
That's the real me... not this gloomy, silent, angry, violent, weepy mess of a girl.

Not too long ago, it was always so much easier for me to bounce back and laugh... and be chirpy...
My "lows" were... nowhere near as low as they are now.
I'm a despicable, ugly human now.

Well... do something to be the old AnoMALIE. I'm sure it's not too late. You've always been a sweet funny girl, I'm sure you can still find her in there somewhere. Remember, you say you're a pessimist, but you've ALWAYS been a secret optimist. It's why you're such a cheerleader for everyone else. 

So I though... what CAN I do to be my old self again?
Frankly, I couldn't even remember WHAT I was like as a fucking teenager.
So I went back to 2004. I read my journal entries of 2004.
The semester I:
FINALLY got my driver's license! (August 27th)
Found my true love-- writing.
Formed The Three Musketeers.
Suffered through Organic Chemistry.
Met Nativeminnow and his world of infinite biology wisdom.
Met Darcy.

I smiled the entire two-hour ride down 2004 Memory Lane.
My favorite entires? Well, since you asked... here are my top three of '04, completely unedited. Please, like... I apologize for... everything. They're embarrassing, but fuck it!

1. (Something tells me I already posted this one before, but I can't help it. This shit makes me laugh every time. This was my first day of class back in August 31th of '04... a Tuesday I think. I was an overwhelmed 19 year-old)

i'm completely exhausted right now. i just want to throw myself on the bed and pass out. i mean... this is a fucking greuling day! fucking 5 classes nonstop... with 15 passing periods... where i'm expected to make it to class on time. that's a bunch of bullshit. 

all of my teachers seem to be fans of "being on class on time." that would be easy if unlv were the size of a damn high school. 

my CRJ class is alright. the teach seems cool... although he's cross-eyed and i don't know what eye to look at. 

the english teacher scared me. he said something about being the... head of the english department last year? i think? and he scared me the most. he looks like the type who will enjoy failing a student. 

my bio teacher is boring. he gets a bit too excited when talking about darwin. he wants us to be fans like he is. 

my philosophy class is just... weird. i don't like it for shit. the class is too packed... i sit in the front facing the students... and the teacher's a monotone. it's right across the writing center... and for some reason that gets my stomach turning. it sort of scares me. 

my chemistry lab is fucked up. the two lab T.A.'s have THICK accents. and i fucking mean THICK! on guy came straight from china, the other lady is pakistani... and she loves chewing bubblegum like my mom does: like a cow chewing curd. 

my make up is all smeared... my hair is all frizzy... and my face is greasey. i look like hell man. i look like a bum. 

oh, and let's not forget how much fucking reading i have to do over the week: 3 biology chapters, one chemistry chapter with 10 homework questions, 13 pages off my philosophy class, and 30 pages for english. 

this semester is going to be hell. 

fucking hell

2. (Rough Tuesday in October '04, where everything was going wrong. Typical 19-year-old AnoMALIE-meltdown)

i hate the fact that i need to go to school and bust my brain. i hate sitting there working on mechanisms... memorizing... memorizing all this bullshit! diplomonadida, parabasala, alveolata, euglenozoa, stramenopila, rhodophyta, chlorophyta, mycetozoa... what good does knowing all these phylas do me? why am i filling my mind with names like these? 

what's the genus of this structure? it's a giardia, phylum diplomonadida, they also have no mitochondria... trichomonas are the genus... parabasala it's phylum/clade. They're all protists. 

euglenas are mixtotrophic and they're flagellates. 

porphyra is another name for sea weed. why call it porphyra if it's a fucking SEA WEED? they're in the rhodophyta clade/phyla. and the mycetozoas... well, they're coenocytic... and they're phagocytic... and.. a genus is a slime mold! slime mold... now that aint too bad 

bilogy will be the death of me. 

no wonder most doctors go bald. 

today i licked my right index finger during chem lab. i think i accidentaly ate some of the crystals i was supposed to be forming. i think it may be interferring with my thinking process. i think it led to my melt down... and i think it's giving me a tummy/head ache.

3. (And now for my last trick-- because I know it gets annoying to read all this-- my ABSOLUTE favorite! My first day DRIVING TO SCHOOL. This dates September 2nd, 2004)

i wish you didn't have to drive to school. it's a piece of shit.
sure... it's fun to blast your favorite music (i personally sang my little heart out to "y ahora quien" by marc anthony)... but there are many other downsides to it.
it's hot as fuck outside... and there are just so many people... it took me 45 minutes to get home... when it usually takes me no more than 15 minutes.

it's not as cool as i thought it'd be to drive. it's actually sort of... boring. i mean... here you are in this car... a vehicle in which you cannot only kill others, but yourself too... and people seem to forget about common sense.

fuck man. i'm just grouchy. hopefully i get better after i finish my o-chem homework (o-chem homework! imagine that!)

***

Ah... good laugh.
THAT'S AnoMALIE.
I wish my rants sounded more like that nowadays. Man.
I'll try to be her again... with better spelling and grammar.

ROAR!

Ahh, yes! Because August couldn't be cool with me and wanted to punish me for whining, The Universe decided to give me a bump on my eyelid.

MY VIRGIN EYELID!

I've never had anything wrong with my eyelid... just... you know... when I cry and they swell and that shit... but any sort of bump? NEVER!

Yeah, I know I'm overreacting, but I'm just bummed out 'cause my eyes are the only kinda-ok thing about me. Now even that is fucked up. Nice going, Summer... you're the best!

And while I don't really give a shit about this, I've been agitated since around 7PM, when I started arguing with a cousin over the whole USA-Mexico FRIENDLY.

I'm fine with differing opinions... but when the opinion is STUPID and lacking logic... the sole "logic" being "I want to piss you off by saying some of the most misinformed, bandwagoning bullshit," I go fucking batshit. I know I reach this level once I drop the word "retard" so often, I run out of spit.

Oh, oh, oh! And a couple of hours before that, I got in a verbal altercation with this fucking idiotic cholo, driving one of those shoddy landscaping trucks. Imbecile nearly crashed into me because he didn't do a four-way stop correctly... and I caught him right before he hit me... so our cars did this elegant, slow-motion dance in the middle of the intersection, where we pounded on our chests, lowered our windows and screamed:

IT WAS MY FUCKING TURN!!! MY TURN!!!!!!

I feel I won it, because while he spiced up his sentence with "FUCKING DUMB BITCH! IT WAS MY TURN! DUMB BITCH" I was pissed off enough, and cogent enough, to scream "GO BACK TO FUCKING PRISON, BIIIIIIITCH!"

Really, Holmes? You're gonna do me like that? you are gonna call me "DUMB BITCH"????

HAHAHAHAHA! What you got against girls, dawg? Too much BITCH duty in prison? It's OK, Montoya Santana, you'll get over it.

I think that's what kept me from getting all lame and sentimental, and instead violent and all... Herculean.

It also didn't help that I was returning home from my longest day at the gym. I am a massively aggressive monster Wednesday afternoons... when I speed home for my delicious, nourishing post-workout meal... which is my absolute favorite meal of the week. So pardon me as I chop your fucking head off for getting in the way of my nutrient-depleted body and the fan-fucking-tastic carbs awaiting me at home.

As we parted ways from our car-tango, he calmed the fuck down... not I. When this girl wants to be menacing, she WILL be menacing... you can blame pent up aggression for that... and these too

See that elbow?
I would fucking LOVE to smash it across your goatee-rockin' face, lil' homie!
This chick is NOT too happy with dudes right now, G.

I screamed a nice "Fuck you!" and bucked. Yeah, I bucked.

I got home and cracked the fuck up.

Vato couldda shot and killed me... AHAHAHAHA! Oh, a girl can dream.

I tell ya, reckless. I just no longer give a fuck.

And to end on a less sour, violent note, Mooney was kind enough to screencap the conversation RidiculouslyGoodLookingBoy had in regards to some bitch questioning his sexuality:

If only I were that articulate... and participated in more civilized activities, like rational conversations...

Me no think. Me SMASH!

God, I'm such a brute.

cRAZy kids

I went to bed frazzled as fuck...

Then I woke up to see something that still cracks me up... even just thinking about it.

So, the twelve year old boy is attached to me. I learned how to get him to chill the fuck out and quit pissing me off: toss money at him.

Aside from giving him money (no, seriously... he rummaged through my WALLET... which... at the age of twelve... I NEVER did that... that shit would get my fucking hands slapped so hard I'd lose feeling in them for days), I also play Donkey Kong and Super Mario with him... and not to toot my own horn, but I murder at those games.

Anyway, the boy now thinks I'm pretty legit.

These last two days I've been sleeping on the floor in my parent's bedroom (each night I brace myself to wake up to some traumatic shit, but so far, the only thing that has woken me up is the arctic temperature my parents keep in that room). By the time I wake up and work my way towards the room where everyone is hanging out, it tends to be pretty late.

Not today.

I woke up to some serious laughter.

Why the cackles? Because the 12 year old tried shaving his face this morning.

With MY razor.

You can imagine the sight.

Kid... you're lucky that razor is reserved for my calves...

All morning long, each time I looked at his chin I'd bust out into a chuckle.

What didn't make me chuckle was the fucking chastising I STILL received this morning.

This time, my aunt was the one giving me a talk about how "you don't do" what I "did."

Her parents were worried sick. She's nine years old. That was so irresponsible. What were you thinking?

First of all, I DON'T hang out with kids. I don't know how to handle kids. I DON'T LIKE kids. Second, you guys MADE ME take her with me when I was clearly only intending to take my 20 year old cousin to SUGAR FACTORY. Third, that fucking little heifer was the one throwing a fucking hissy fit at Sugar Factory about "I want M&M WORLD!" I don't know how to handle spoiled, idiotic twats (aside from slapping the shit out of their mouths and telling them to "act right!" But that would have gotten me in trouble in such a public area as the Las Vegas strip), so I did what she wanted in order to get her to shut the fuck up. Last, you of all people, should know this damn kid embellishes the fuck out of her stories. I got this after talking to her for five minutes... you've dealt with her for nine years, you should know this and take it easy on me.

Of course I didn't say what I was thinking... I just wanted the fucking conversation to end. I apologized, said I thought it was going to be a quicker trip (which I DID... but these kids were more indecisive than I am), and that I was very sorry I upset her parents like that (which I was... but when I say "I'm going to the Paris casino to get 20yearold some Sugar Factory," they should have known this was going to take some damn time... they should also know of their child's manipulative nature).

But... again... all I have to do is think of my cousin's bleeding chin, and I crack up.

Crazy kids.

HoodAssBitch

My Facebook friends are more entertaining than yours:

seems innocent enough...

Whoa! Wait! What?

Uh-oh... shit's going down!

See, if I were in this fight, I'd use proper spelling, punctuation, grammar, etc.
But that's just me.

I giggled.

Even I felt a little offended here.
Prostitute? Homie, that's only OUT OF TOWN HOES!

Really? "Let's escalate the argument! Let's take it to THE PHONE!"
Weak.

No girl likes admitting she has an "ugly ass fk" man.
No girl.

True story.
And... is it me, or do I sense a strong case of bipolar behavior right now?

Wait... I'm confused now...

More giggles.
"Squares in me circle?"... wha?

Oh! Oh! I sense "shit's about to get real!"

Hard.

Ok, enough.
Yeah right! I kept reading!
It was like "Blood In Blood Out" being played out in real life!

... Aaaaand this is how people end up murdered over a Facebook status...

I swear not a day goes by where I don't wonder how the hell I'm still friends with some people...
P.S. The angry latina? Yeah, I fought her back in middle school. She "stole" Mario from me and shit went down.
P.S.S. I whooped her ass... then we became friends.
P.S.S.S. I think she's gonna get her ass BEAT when she meets up with this crazy broad.
P.S.S.S.S. This argument only got WORSE... talk about infanticide, and 48 "niggas" jumping "yo white ass." Hmmm... people are interesting creatures... I feel like I need to call the cops now...

A Cold Stranger

I have officially found my all-time favorite backhanded compliment!
After years of hearing shit ranging from "You're pretty! But... you'd be SO MUCH prettier if you wore a girdle!" to "You'd be PERFECT... if you looked like your sister" I have found one that... made me angry, sad, then burst into laughter.

As I'm sure I've complained here, people have a ridiculous ability to insult me... especially when they're trying to pay me a compliment. Often times it hurts the shit out of me... other times I'm infuriated... but seldom am I amused enough to laugh-- don't get it twisted, just because I laugh DOES NOT mean I like it. An insult's an insult, and it takes permanent residence in my heart and mind... and will usually make an appearance during one of my frequent self-loathing episodes.

OK, on with the compliment:
I'm not entirely sure how this got out... but it appears my... adoration of Samuel Clemens is no longer a secret.
I claim not to read and all that bullshit, but truth be told, this man holds my heart... hence why I don't call him by his pen name.
I'll watch documentaries on Mr. Clemens, as well as read articles... and I find myself tearing up... I swear I even sobbed with one of the documentaries.
Basically, I think this man was the most awesome human in the history of ever, and totally my soulmate.
But I keep that information to myself... I don't really remember owning up to my adoration.
BUT, point is, somehow, this dude caught word of my LOVE for SAMUEL CLEMENS.
I think he was trying to impress me... I HOPE that's what he was trying to do... not tossing some... posh insult at me.
He quoted:
There are women who have an indefinable charm in their faces which makes them beautiful to their intimates, but a cold stranger who tried to reason the matter out and find this beauty would fail.
My reaction?
Silence. Slight choking on my own spit.
Homie... you're gonna quote A Tramp Abroad... and THAT'S the line you're gonna choose? DUDE! I've crossed two sentences with you... no way can that be considered "intimate." What the hell are you smoking?
Him: Lame quote, but Sam Clemens must redeem it a bit
No shit, Holmes, you straight up just called me ugly... 
and WAIT... did you just call him Sam Clemens? Has somebody been Facebook stalking my albums?

Serendipity DOES NOT exist... especially not now in the time of Facebook. I quickly remembered ONE photo I uploaded from one of my DC trips... one where I'm next to a Mark Twain poster, and I declare my love.
Lightbulb.

After feeling creeped the fuck out... then angry... then sad... I had to start laughing.
That was so incredibly horrible. SO horrible... oh my god... how would anyone find that appropriate? Jesus Christ... AHAHAHAHA! I'm so glad I don't have to do that.... I promise I'll refrain from doing that... fuck, my stomach hurts... good laugh, good laugh... and YOU, guy, to the lions! You are DONE!

A cold stranger... sounds like... everyone but my nuclear family.
Dear Lord... compliments were definitely not made for me.

Un Animal

Good day, guys... such a good fucking day... I've been smiling and laughing so much, I fear those around me are going to have me committed to a mental institution.
But... she was so depressed not too long ago... now this? She probably has her suicide plotted out and we need to stop it before she goes ahead and does whatever crazy shit she has planned!
I hear that's what happens with people before they commit suicide... they're really happy and lovable the day before they go off and do the crazy thing...
But I swear to you that's not the case. I'm just so happy, and on a total upswing right now... I'm kind of fearful that the world IS ending... hence this strange string of blissful days-- the Universe's way to even the score.

Or maybe I'm just really amused when I make my poor, mega-Catholic, little Mexican mom listen to my favorite songs that may not be all too innocent.

I was driving her around town and my itunes shuffled to NIN's "Closer." Instead of changing the song, I increased the volume... as an experiment.
Me: GUESS why I love this song.
She's gonna kill me...
Mom: It sounds scary.
Me: It's awesome... and dirty... but fucking awesome!
Mom: AnoMALIE! Quit talking like a trucker! (she has this new thing where she accuses me of being a "trucker" whenever I get too vulgar or whatever)

The lyrics begin.
You let me violate you. You let me desecrate you.
Mom: Valgame Dios! (equivalent of "Oh my God")
Me: Shhh!
You let me penetrate you
Mom: OH MY GOD!
Me: NOT YET!
You let me complicate you.

I turn up the sound, my cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. Mom was staring at me in disbelief, shaking her head in disapproval. This--naturally-- only made me giggle a little louder.
Help me, I broke apart my insides.
Help me, I've got no soul to sell.
Mom: Muy bonito... ("very nice," obviously said sarcastically)
Shakes her head again, a bit more intensely.
Me: Shhhh!
Help me, the only thing that works for me. 
Me: Get ready, get ready!
It feels like Christmas Eve!
Help me get away from myself.

I join in on the singing... emphasizing the obvious word.
I wanna fuck you like an animal.
Mom: ... of course.
I wanna feel you from the inside
Mom: Ave Maria Purisma, niña! ("Blessed Virgin Mary, girl!")
I wanna fuck you like an animal
Mom: That vulgar bastard... THAT'S what he is!
Me: The voice mom! The voice! It's sexy! ... and the lyrics are hot. It's some good shit, Mom, gotta admit it.
Mom: Que me van a gustar estas vulgaridades! ("Like hell I'd like these vulgarities!")

I like to torture my poor saint of a mother... so we listened to the entire song.
I know she ended up liking it... I mean, she was bobbing her head to it after maybe a minute.
I'll just let her keep denying the fact. I got you, Mom. No worries.