Answers!

The answers to yesterday's quiz are as follows:

Guess what!

You were bitten by another bastard spider.

Yeah, but where?

Your inner left thigh.

Yes! How'd you guess?!

Because those *expletive of your choice. Creative ones get extra credit* always harass the hell out of you, regardless of where you may be. Inner left thigh because that was the most painful spot I could think of... and knowing you, something like that WOULD happen to you.

Sucks, right?!

It sucks so bad, I would exterminate all the arachnids in this world for you, just so it never happens again.


Needless to say, I've been limping around like a pirate with a peg leg since yesterday. And when I have to piss? JESUS CHRIST! I'm inches away from going to the doctor and asking for a urinary catheter (TMI? I DON'T CARE! Dramatic? Suck it!).
Sleeping was also a drag. I couldn't let my injured thigh touch the other one. It was pretty difficult, considering most humans are unconscious when asleep... and my preferred sleeping position is the fetal position.
I only share this because it's stuff I've never taken into consideration before. I never sat there and though "Yo, AnoMALIE, so... what would you do if one morning you woke up a total gimp due to a spider bite?" Umm... I guess... I would... have to change how I sleep, wouldn't I? And... I'd... definitely not be able to take a comfortable piss, that's for sure!

Well, that pain was more of an issue yesterday.
Today I woke up with my leg being a little better... so I went for a hike.
Ha! I just love treating myself badly.
Nah, the pain wasn't too bad at the start of the hike, plus, the weather (cloudy with occasional sprinkles) was awesome. The smell was... mmmmm... wet dirt makes me happy. My left thigh could have been impaled by an arrow and I'd still be happy with the smell of wet dirt.

Anyway, the hike made me so happy, I convinced myself I was good to hit the gym and lift.
I was too upset over having to lower all of my weight (except for squats. My blessed, injured thunder thighs are good for something-- besides being good spider bait, of course) by at least ten pounds (for reasons I'm sure I'll discuss later in the month) to care about my horrifically injured thigh.

That's where my day went downhill.
After putting all the weights away, I looked into the mirror to readjust my hair into a neater ponytail (I look beyond disheveled after working out). As I was scooping my hair back, I misjudged the distance of my hand to my neck and damn near slashed my left carotid artery with my left thumb (what is it with the left side of my body?). It was a sensation that made me double over in pain (and that dismemberment video from that notorious blog was the first thought to rush to my head). I still can't touch it, to tell you the truth... it hurts, but it also grosses me out.

After that, I came home and lo and behold, who's at my house?
My dad's real-estate agent... guy with whom my dad is trying to hook-up either one of us (D or me).
I was messy... with my busted carotid artery... my limp... and Dad still forced me to greet Ivan (we hadn't formally met), per Ivan's request.
So uncomfortable. I felt like a slave being sold at auction.
Sure, her hair is a nappy mess right now, but she never goes out without straightening it. Just look how long it is! And she has... that weird red gash on her neck, but I assure you she's NOT suicidal... it must have been the seatbelt of her car. Sure, she's sweaty right now... but did you know she goes to the gym and can bench-press her weight... which is... OPPPPP! Stop right there, sir! ENOUGH!

So, ladies and gentlemen... looks like my dad has finally lost his patience with me and is trying to marry me off.
Hopefully he finds a more tactful way of doing it (trying to marry me off, that is).

Don't worry, I'll invite all of you to my wedding... so one of you can abduct me before I walk down the aisle.

_______

Guess what!

_________________________

Yeah, but where?

_________________________

Yes! How'd you guess?!

_________________________

Sucks, right?!

_________________________


Kinda rough day today for little ol' AnoMALIE.
So much so, I don't feel like talking much.
Instead, I'll dedicate this song to my adopted sister Mooney, who had an even rougher day. She told me something that broke my heart, because I relate.

I too am tired of being alone, so please know I'll always keep you company.
When I'm bummed, this song--while heartbreaking-- makes me feel better... because it helps me get it all out. This bad boy is on repeat for days when I'm bummed. Maybe it'll work for you? It's Ben Folds... and we all know how cool that guy is :)
Feel better young lady!

And so, 
Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call form a friend.
The same. It's the same 
Why's it always the same?
Annie waits for the last time.
The clock
Never stops, never stops, never waits.
She's growing old. It's getting late.
And so, he forgot, he forgot... maybe not?
Maybe he's been seriously hurt?
Would that be worse?
Headlights crest the hill.
Shadows pass her by and out of sight.
Annie sees in dreams
Friday bingo, pigeons in the park.
Annie waits for the last time.
Just the same as the last time.
Annie says:
"You see? This is why I'd rather be alone..."
And so, Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call from a friend.
The same. It's the same. Why's it always the same?
Annie waits as the last
Headlights crest the hill.
Who will be the one forever more?
Annie, I could be...
If we're both still lonely when we're old.
Annie waits for the last time.
Just the same as the last time.
Annie waits for the last time.
Just the same as the last time.
Annie waits
But not for me.

Apoco no es allegadora la canción? Makes me cry... or at least frown, every time... especially the bold parts (it's like this guy read my diary for inspiration).
Once I don't cry, I know I'm ok.

Love you, primiux!

Kicked out

I don't normally post twice in one day, considering I have a difficult time coming up with ONE entry a day... but this just... made me feel so weird, I had to share:

I made a grown man cry today.
A grown man who is also my father's best friend.
It was 100 percent unintentional.

Backstory:
Dad came to Vegas back as a teenager and lived with his dad's sister.
Dad knew no one other than that family, and he didn't speak a lick of English.
Dad spent his time fixing his car, as well as the neighborhood's cars... because there was nothing better to do back in the 70's in North Las Vegas... especially for an immigrant.
One day, he was at a scrap yard looking for car parts, but he was having difficulty finding a certain part.
Dad was walking aimlessly, when one of the workers started harassing him, accusing him of stealing and calling him by some derogatory terms.
Dad had no idea what was going on, and he had no way of defending himself. That's when another Latino came to Dad's rescue... a Mexican-American kid about Dad's age who was browsing around and heard the commotion.
From that moment on, Dad and A (the Mexican-American kid) became inseparable.
In his twenties, Dad moved in with A... where they made their bachelor pad a party central. They drank for days, and these homies would smoke weed 'til... they could eat a horse.
Then A got married and started his family.
Dad left for Mexico, met Mom, and got married. They decided they'd live in Mexico, and only visit the US to have their (anchor... jk!) babies.
Once Mom was about six months pregnant, my folks decided to head for the US. Dad went for help from the only person he knew: A.
My folks lived with A, his wife, and their two kids.
Mom would babysit the two kids (she has some hilarious anecdotes from those days), cook, and clean (all while pregnant, like any awesome Mexican lady) in order to pay back the hospitality.
Mom and Dad lived with A until Mom gave birth to Rafa. That's when my folks decided they would stay here, and raise their family.
My parents found a place to call their own, and when Rafa was about six months old, they finally moved out of A's house.
We would visit A at least once a week, we'd go on camping trips to Utah at least twice during the summer, and we treated each other like family for years.

Around the time when I turned ten, the visits stopped... A's marriage disintegrated... and A went a little rogue.
Still, we D's cherish the memories shared with A and his family, and we remained eternally grateful for the kindness they showed my folks during the rough transition of moving to a foreign country. That's the kind of stuff you can never forget and will always appreciate.

Ok, now on to today and how I made this poor man cry:
Dad has stayed in contact with A, and he has visited him about once a year.
Last week, A let Dad know that he needed him to help fill his pool (is that what it's called? When you get rid of your pool by covering it with concrete).
Dad has been doing the concrete job at A's house these last two days.
Today, Dad finally asked A what his deal was in no longer visiting us.
This is where A started to cry.
A: Wanna know why? It's because of your daughters!
?!!?!
Dad: What?!
A: They kicked me out of your house!
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Dad: WHEN?! THOSE BRATS!
A: When I go, they never come out of their room. That is THEIR way of kicking me out. They don't care to know me... they DON'T know me. Sad, because you and I are not "friends"... we're BROTHERS!
Dad: Oh... yeah, we are... but... don't let that get to you... the girls do that to everyone. If you were to drop by more often, they'd hang around... eventually. Don't feel bad about that.

Dad told me this as I was making some dinner.
I laughed... then I felt terrible, when Dad told me how A was BAWLING.
Whoa, my "slights" elicits this response from grownass men? CALM DOWN! It's only me.

I know the guy... I DO. I know what part of Mexico his family hails from (Chihuahua). I'm in contact with his only daughter (we took some college classes together, as well). I know his ex-wife's mom is a lesbian. I know his three kids are Jewish while he is a non-practicing Catholic. I know his ex-wife only ate lox. I know he and Dad would smoke weed like Cheech and Chong (something A's kids know NOTHING about). I know how he met Dad.
I could pick him out of a crowd like I can pick out Waldo, for crying out loud!

I treat him like I treat any other adult who visits my folks: I greet him at the door, shake his hand as I smile, and I excuse myself to another part of the room.
What can I talk about with a 50-whatever year-old man I see once a year? I don't even smoke weed, so I can't even talk about that.
I'm sorry, A!

So now I'm embarrassed and sad over  hurting this man's feelings.

Men... women may be crazy... but you guys are such pansies (says the girl who cries because she's not invited to be part of a bridal party).

Bust a what?!

I think The Universe finally realized it has been a real douche to me these last few months (it really let me have it in March... my birth month. JERK!).
It tried making it up to me today.

I was watching TV in the living room when I saw a piece of paper-- protected by hard plastic-- lying on the floor.
I picked it up. It was the instruction/description slip of the comfy italian-leather couch I love lounging in while watching TV in the family room. It must have fallen off the bottom of the couch after all these years of being held up by only one strip of tape.
I saw two bright yellow stickers on the back of the paper... then I read the stickers. It was the name of the couch... my lovely, 12-year-old couch:

Oh boyyyy!

Yes, that made my day.

And NO, I will NOT listen to my couch's advice.

6:31AM

4:30AM: Wake up to the sound of Mom having a one-sided conversation in what appears to be Rafa's room. I force myself back to sleep.

Hmm... ok... she's on her cell asking these idiots where they are. Thanks for waking me up, scary lady.

6:31AM: Hear the front door open, car keys jingle, then siblings walking to their bedrooms. Sister goes to the bathroom and washes her face.

Uh-oh... someone's gonna get it later today...

10AM: Decide to give up on sleeping. Get up and make myself some green tea. 

Oh green tea... why can't you taste like... something other than cat pee?

10:30AM: Mom walks in... I smile and say "HI MAAA!" 

Why is she makin' that face...

10:31AM: Mom chews me out. She just starts ripping me apart over how none of us appreciate what a good mother she is. We're all inconsiderate little assholes.

What the fuck is going on here?!

10:50AM: Mom finally stops screaming at me. I've sat through a twenty-minute tirade without saying a word (other than "what?"), just sitting there wide-eyed and gaping. Tirade is inspired by my siblings returning home at 6:30 in the morning (I went to bed at one in the morning, mind you).

You serious? What part did I play in all this shit?

10:51AM: I walk back to my room.

Women are fucking crazy.

11AM: Mom walks into my room and apologizes. She then proceeds to tell me her plans for "disciplining" my "wayward" siblings.

You're gonna whaaa... I feel sorry for those suckers.

11:30AM: Rafa and D wake up nice and refreshed. Siblings go into the kitchen and bump into Mom.

Good luck, suckaaaas!

11:31-11:35AM: Mom forgets she was angry and asks my siblings for details of their night (Rafa won $300 in poker, D fell asleep in my cousin's suite as she waited for the poker game to end). She is enthralled by their story.

What. The. Fuck.

11:36AM: I walk back into my room.

Wow.

I just never win.

Ma vie en rose

So I survived.
I even took photos.

There's a catch, though:
I only went to the church part of the wedding.
Originally, I had planned to go to the entire shindig, I mean, Rafa's here. Nowadays, there are few opportunities I get to party with my brother.
However, I felt so sick, I ended up opting out of the reception.
I'm sure the stress and drama added to this blinding headache that kept me form the party.

For the time I spent at the wedding, I was very civil and friendly (except for this one baby sitting in front of me. At first, I played along with him... even sticking my tongue out at him--caught on tape, mind you-- after he started doing this sort of serpent thing with his tongue. With this kid, I played the usual church charades people always played with me when I was little. Then the game went all wrong. We were kneeling, except for the baby, of course, he was standing on the bench directly in front of me. I was minding my own business, closing my eyes and doing the prayer thing, when what did he do? He MOTORBOATED me. Yeah. What was MORE embarrassing was that his dad saw. Do you know how hard it is not to slap a two year old's face as he buries it into your exposed cleavage? VERY DIFFICULT. After he did that, I stooped to his two-year-old level and I made mean faces at him. Freakin' little jerk. How can a child already have those impulses? Creep).
I hugged and kissed all the bride's relatives (not the groom's, obviously, since I don't know them). I acted as if this last week never occurred.

I thought the day was a hit... until I caught a glimpse of a photo a certain dude took of my family and me with the newly-weds.
I kid you not, this is unedited:

Is it obvious they hate me?

What the HELL is that?
Oh, maybe I should explain that I'm to the far left... behind my mom... my hair's a little visible... see it?
Yeah, me neither.

I laughed it off... of course, I still feel the need to slap this guy in the back of the head while calling him a jackass (this is when cussing would REALLY come in handy), but I laughed it off. It's not like I love photos anyway. I guess he did me a favor by intentionally cropping me out AND letting me know how he REALLY feels.

There is one photo out there someone managed to snap of me... and it bummed me out to see that it's more than obvious that I'm quite miserable at this point in time. My eyes are just... dead.
Uh-oh.
But at least my smile still exists:

That mani was popular with the high schoolers at the wedding.
One day I'll start acting my age.

I surprisingly got that shot while trying to take a proper photograph of the cool "ombre" mani I did to go along with my pink shoes and purse for the event.

See the mud?! MFing MUD! In 90-whatever degrees! I was furious!

See, I can be a girl when I try (but somehow, I STILL get dirty like some mischievous little boy).

Crazy Fools

This wedding takes the psycho cake... by far. No contest.

The wedding is tomorrow. I've been dreading it since... a year ago? I'm not sure.
Who would have guessed the issue of me not being in the bridal party would be the tip of the iceberg?

Things exploded today, during the ceremony rehearsal.
The tension reached its boiling point and my sister finally cracked in the church parking lot.
She was screaming and crying. She was calling Mom and then me, incoherently trying to tell us why she was so angry.
She let everyone have it.

Why so angry?
Well, turns out she's not going to walk with the bridal party. You know that part where the couples march down the aisle before the bride? Yeah, that part. They told her SHE wasn't going to do that, since she was only the "girl handing out the little party favors."
Carmen (stupid bitch wife of my first little "boyfriend." Her husband is the first cousin of the bride): YOU don't need to be here. THEY don't need you. You're not even walking in with the bride. You're going to be inside, already sitting on the bench.
Sister: ... what?
Carmen: Yeah. You don't need to be here. Go home.
Sister: ....

What kind of way is that to speak to someone?
Anyway, after hearing that, my sister broke down and went off on her bewildered phone calls.

After some very heated arguments (I just sat there quietly. Most of the time I was wondering if this was all some sort of April Fools joke gone wrong), and after a ton of hurt feelings (at one point Mom said NONE of us were going to the wedding. I held my breath when she said that. That was just crazy talk!), the problems were worked out. People cried. People apologized.
I think we're cool now... ?

I can't wait until this drama is done and over with come tomorrow.

(Ugh! Then I see the news of Lon leaving the Rebs. This is all too much. AH! On top of that, the friend who was making me pop a vein yesterday only managed to further enrage me today. I don't know what the hell she was smoking. It's like Kentucky severely damaged her brain)