please.

Chiquito Bonito

I was so excited to update today, but I'm SO FUCKING TIRED after a horrible-ass day.

Yesterday was awesome... and so much awesome went down, that it basically mindfucked me into being unable to express myself appropriately. Shit happens all the time.
I decided the updating would have to wait until the following day... and that day (aka, today) turned out to be fucking shit-tastic.

Now, when I'm finally at the laptop, I'm too tired to think clearly.
I guess I'll just settle for mentioning what's most prominent in my mind right now:
My godson's a fucking beast.

First kid I ever saw get breast fed.
Shit traumatized me for life.

He won the National title of his division (youth) in fitness modeling at Muscle Mania (Latin America). Pretty fucking exciting. He ended up with 6th place for Latin America... in the all-around competition.

His competition.
The dude in the middle was incredibly deluded, claiming he was robbed.
Yeah. Ok. Maybe when you get some sort of abdominal definition, kegger.

I feel I must mention it was his first competition.

...though I won't blame you if you ask "WHAT competition?"

I call him a hornet. Such a tiny waist... but look at the size of his back!
BEEEEEAST!

My boy is fucking beautiful.

I SHARE SOME OF MY GENETIC MAKEUP WITH THIS ADONIS!
 JESUS CHRIST!

He has his pops to thank for the face (ha... as a kid I was super shy around him--my godson's dad-- because I thought he was so freakin' good looking. I can remember thinking like this since I was like... 5), but the body? All his Ma's work... aka, my cousin... and she gets that from my grandpa. Dude was batshit crazy... but he gave his kids the legacy of a fucking rockin' body (just look at Mooney's Dad from back in the day:

you can't tell me this man isn't a freakin' stud!

He may have been shorter than a good few of the dudes in Hometown... but muscle mass was another story. That's what he looked like naturally. Dudes in my maternal side of the family are badasses, period)

Ha. Suddenly I'm no longer sleepy.
No. Yes, I am.
But let me just say it one more time:
My godson, my little guy, mi chiquito, my little piece of heart, is the motherfucking shit... and so fucking handsome... and I'm glad Latin Americans recognize it.
WOOO-HOOOO!
Just wait until you get to know him! His heart is just as gorgeous!

he's being a goofball, just FYI

Babies, GTFO!

My Saturday was spent being an adult.

I attended my ex-adopted brother's baby shower. Make sense?
It's the dude who was super incredibly chill with me a few years back, then all of a sudden lost his balls once he got in a relationship.
Well, he wound up marrying the girl who cut his balls off, and apparently it wasn't too successful of a vasectomy, because they're now awaiting the birth of their first kid.

Since I'm only resentful with certain subject, being kicked to the curb for a girl isn't TOO serious... especially if my dude friend ends up marrying the chick.
I guess they WERE serious.
The moment they try and mend fences, I'll more than gladly agree.

OK, so yeah, my ex-adopted--maybe-one-day-re-adopted brother invited D and me to the baby shower, and we agreed to attend.
We arrived three hours late to the shindig, just in time for the cupcakes and cookies, but too late for the games. Perfect, if you ask me... 'cause I fucking hate being peer-pressured into partaking in the stupid party-games of baby showers... or any party, really. Fuck that shit.

As made obvious by the photos, I was being my typical wallflower-self:

I'm a "Where's Waldo?" fan.

This would be my "Where's AnoMALIE?" entry.
"I'm wearing black..."

Clearly, I'm having the time of my life.
I love everything related to babies.
Right.

Well, not a complete wallflower, since I WAS talking to the people around me, and not just D.
(I just love how I can find all these fucking FB photos of me being a creeper! WTF?!)

After the gift-opening extravaganza, where tears were shed by the majority of the people present (babies cried because they were tired, adults cried because Ex-Adopted-Brother was crying like a baby over his mother's gift), we turned the party into... well... a party.
We cranked up the Vicente Fernandez as the "Babies, GTFO!" sign.
Once the babies were gone, we busted out the tequila, and the drinking commenced.

Some days, I just refuse to believe there's a better thing than being Mexican.

Don't try

Long post or short post today?
I've been slacking... severely. For that, I'm sorry. It's days of missed opportunities of writing something... memorable? Useful? Something like that.
It's not for lack of inspiration, it's more like... an inability to stay awake long enough to write shit up. I'm just unusually tired as of recently, so all I really want to do is pass out on my bed.

But now that I AM alert and in an unusually good mood, I'm drawing a blank.
Je ne sais pas quoi dire.

Think I'll just let good ol' Bob Marley take it form here, guys.
Happy Fall-Back! I sure as fuck enjoyed it... and I even acquired a quote from my favorite priest (yeah, I went to church today for the first time since that Bubblegum Debacle. It was the perfect day to return, too... though I made my official switch to English ONLY mass now. Sorry, Spanish, we had our 26 year run).

"Trying. Never. Works. You either DO IT or you DON'T. Don't try-- COMMIT!"- Father Dave.
(Just what I need. Admittedly, I'm a dreamer... and often get swept away by my stupid feelings and bouts with depression. I often complain when people of strong character--like my mother-- try and snap me out of my funk. They are stern with me, but it's what I need. I need someone to grab me by the collar of my shirt, shake me around... and if need be, even slap me once or twice. I need that strong, authoritative presence in my life to keep me walking upright and not doubled over in defeat. This priest's words were just that... the metaphorical slap to my face)

Oh yeah, back to Bob Marley.

PREACH!

Sluuuurp!

Friday night.
Time for some laughs, right?
I mean, I've been extremely aggressive recently... especially yesterday. As I was driving out of the gym, some asshole dude in a BMW was tailgating me as I was trying to pull out of the parking, then he honked at me for not taking a U-turn at the moment HE wanted me to, to which I responded with looking back and flipping him off.
Once we both did our U-turns, he did the tailgate shit again, and when he was going to pass me, a car got in his lane, so I sped up.
I can be a cunt right back, you son of a bitch.
SO he almost crashes, but maneuvers his way out of the trap only to speed off... all to no avail, because the streetlight turns red on him. I get right behind him, turn on my high beams, and arrange my car far enough so my lights hit his side mirror in the right spot where he's getting blinded.
LICK MY CLIT, MOTHERFUCKER!

It's behavior like that which one day will get me killed...
(Funny enough, a couple of minutes prior to that incident was when I penned a new nickname for myself as I kicked and punched my way through kickboxing class: AngrAmelie. I was laughing for the rest of class and up until that fucking asshole driver pissed me off. The sound of the nickname is so close to "acromegaly" that I couldn't control myself and I'd find myself chuckling to myself, like a total mental patient)

ANYWAY, since I'm aggressive, and I want to cut that shit out... and it's Friday... I'll mention something from last week that is/was quite mortifying to me, but hilarious to Mom and Sister when I let them in on it.
I'm always game for making fun of myself... so I'll write it here.
Plus, I want to get this shit out in the open just so the embarrassment will quit haunting me:


Day- Saturday, October 29th.
Place- The Gold Coast Casino ballroom (I think that's the spot? It's that place right across from The Palms).
Occasion- Pacemaker's cousin's wedding.

Part I.
So, last week's wedding was a trip... as I'm sure everyone can guess.
Sister and I made a very uncomfortable splash because the majority of Hometown was present. They hadn't seen us in a while, like... possibly over a year... so, when they saw us,

Baby Sis got that posing shit on lock!
She's precious!

Me? Not so much.
Dig all that mess in the background?
In my defense, it belongs to pretty-girl D. It's her room.

they kind of freaked out.
Most were very kind and would go so far as to touch us.
Many had this look on their face... where their eyes sparkled and shit. Those kind of broke my heart, because I could see the sense of... admiration/happiness they had in seeing "Wow, she actually FINALLY did it... she's not fat anymore!" It felt strange to know all I had to do to garner their approval was to drop weight. Very strange/uncomfortable/sad.
I'm sweet. I'm funny. I'm smart... but what catches your admiration is my ability to fucking drop 50 pounds in 6 months? WHAT. THE. FUCK?!
Anyway, point is: there was a TON of attention being given to Sister and me.
It was like being on a reality show, where people are checking your every move.

I'm socially awkward... to a damn near unfathomable degree... but I was trying SO HARD to act confident. Happy. Comfortable. NORMAL.
The biggest test came when it was dinner time. Buffet style.
I had to stand in line for about fifteen minutes... answering questions, "gracefully" accepting compliments from the Hometowners... staying straight and not slouching.
That test I passed with flying colors.
I also passed the "serve yourself" portion of the test. I thought I'd surely fuck up right there because I'm clumsy as they come. I trip on some of the most impossible shit... like a spilled pea or something of that ridiculously stupid nature. I also often tremble like a fawn when in public... you know... that whole social anxiety shit of mine... I thought maybe that would kick in and I'd turn all Parkinson's as I'd be in the middle of serving myself some of the chicken marsala... that would ultimately end up on my dress... or worse yet, on the person next to me's dress.
But NO, NONE of that happened! I even managed to serve myself half a plate of steamed ASPARAGUS! That glorious vegetable! And none of it--not even the tasty juices-- ended up on the floor (uh... ok, maybe that's a half-truth... since one of the times, when I cut my asparagus and placed it on my fork, in my... child-like enthusiasm, I kiiind of missed my mouth and the asparagus fell to the floor. It's scientifically proven that I can NEVER be a smooth operator)!

No... the horrible incident happened the moment I reached my table with my goodies.

Part II.
So... recently, for some unknown reason, I've been excessively salivating (like how I try to keep it classy and not just say "Lately I've been HELLA drooling, dude!").
I'm sure you all now know where this is headed...
Smart people would probably hypothesize that I'm drooling because of my change in diet. I've had to tweak that shit so my metabolism doesn't fry or get too accustomed to my meals. It's a way to kick that motherfucker in its side to keep it on its toes, so to speak.
When I see food that really appetizes me, my mouth goes crazy. A totally new phenomenon for me.
I always joke about drooling... especially when I refer to a dude I find very attractive... I joke about him making my mouth water and whatnot, but of course it's a lie. I've never been able to drool over food (unless it was Tabasco sauce... even the smell of that shit has made my mouth water since I was a toddler)... because I apparently fucked up that part of my brain in middle school when I thought anorexia sounded like a good idea.
But recently, I've caught myself swallowing an abnormal (for me) amount of saliva.
If there's food in sight, I need to be careful before I speak, because I don't want to spray any innocent folks standing within spitting range.

I guess social anxiety makes me forget important shit... like SWALLOW YOUR FUCKING SPIT, YOU ANIMAL!

Part III.
I arrive at my table at the reception, second only to my sister.
Everyone is still in the buffet line, except for the family sitting at the table directly in front of me.
Ohhhh... you should know where this is going by now, or else we can't be friends...
I start fiddling with my silverware, trying to make room for my salad plate, AND my dinner plate. There are so many fucking forks, and knives, and glasses everywhere, but not room for my damn plateS!
The Universe, yet again plotting against me! I can't hold TWO fucking plates for too long before something eats shit and I make an ass of myself! MOOOOVE these fucking glasses and forks out of my fucking wayyyy!
As much as The Universe tried fucking up my day by putting that new little too-many-glasses-and-silverware trap in my way, I kicked it in the balls and set both of my plates on the table without any stains, or dropped food, or injuries to me or third parties.

Then I committed the fatal mistake... of sneaking a triumphant glimpse at my plate of asparagus as I was pulling out my chair to take a seat.
My head was bowed, looking to make sure I wasn't sitting on anything (terrible habit a girl acquires when raised with a bunch of mischievous boys who like to fuck around with ketchup packets, tacks, and other sharp/sticky object), and that's when it happened:
An ENORMOUS amount of drool escaped my mouth... and landed on my seat.
FUCK. ME.
SHIT.
FUCK.
GODDAMN IT!
WHY?!
What did I do? What any other human does when they do something stupid/embarrassing/incriminating which can be used for decades for blackmailing purposes: I looked around to make sure no one saw.
DID anyone see?
I sure fucking hope not.
I made eye-contact with one of the girls at the table in front of me... and I gave her my best "YOU SAW NOTHING HERE. YA GOT ME, BITCH?" look.
Poor thing, I'm sure she didn't see shit other than me giving her a menacing scowl... as I wiped my seat with the cloth napkin in my hand.
It took me about two minute to compose myself. I was busy trying not to burst out in maniacal laughter, 'cause that's what I do when mortified. I was also finding it hilarious that no one had just witnessed such a potentially traumatizing event in my life.
Here I just drooled all over my seat like some Saint Bernard, at a wedding, and NO ONE saw! Not even D, whose sitting INCHES away from me! AHAHAHAHA!

I took a deep breath, waited until the last person at my table took his/her seat, and then proceeded to eat my drool-inducing asparagus.

...
I then took a potty break and released the asparagine-laden nuclear waste known as post-asparagus-piss...

Universe: 75687120
Me: 0

o4jnfso04

Today's song of the day was "Total Eclipse of the Heart."
I knew how to pick THAT one out of all the songs these men decide to sing around me.

The work environment isn't getting any better.
I find myself mindlessly staring at the computer and robotically going about the documents.
It's the only way I can work without suffering an anxiety attack. I'm still scared shitless of Ms. Catty though she has been VERY kind to me these last two days, even referring to me by my family's nickname for me (while the nickname itself is pretty popular for various names, I don't adhere to it much... mainly for the same reason. If I turned around each time I heard a name that ended in the sound "Me," I'd go fucking crazy).
I'm apprehensive about her kindness because it's usually when mean people plan their final blow... that short, calm in the eye of the storm... them BAM! Your head gets severed.

AH, GOD! I'm sorry, guys! I wish I could do better, but I'm just so exhausted and sad and... fucked up, I can't continue.
I hope things get better and I have time to clear my head and work on something interesting... or at least funny... but for now, I really need to sleep.

2 Weeks

When people are mean to me, and push me near my breaking point... you know, the point where I give them the Jesus Stare, I've said the only thing I'm thinking is "why?"
It's this question that keeps me from ripping the person's face off, getting shipped to jail, and consequently, getting placed on death row.

When I meet assholes, cruel people, folks that enjoy the pain and suffering of others, I can't halp but wonder what in the fucking world made them that way.
I convince myself there's a reason behind their rotten behavior.
So I forgive... because I too have my own traumas that makes me an asshole sometimes. I usually know I'm being an asshole, but it's beyond my control... shit you acquire during your youth is fucking hard as hell to shake off. SO, I assume I'm not alone in this behavior.

I mention this because today I FINALLY realized why Ms. Catty is such a relentless cunt to me.
And I understand.

When I showed up to work, they gave me the cubicle that belonged to the lady who sat next to Musketeer. The folks in charge assured me this was cool.
Once the lady showed up, she went off and worked in another part of the office without much drama.

Well, I've been working at that same cubicle for a month now.
Today, the lady I unwittingly usurped came to work with a huge smile on her face. She was unusually chirpy because all of the coworkers were curious as to why she looked so happy.
She came clean:
Today's my last day of work!
OnlyMexicanOtherThanMeInThatOffice: YOU'RE JOKING! YOU'RE JOKING!
PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking!PleaseBeJoking! I DON'T want to replace you! I don't want to work here forever!
PoorLadyIUnwittinglyReplaced: Nope. I put in my two weeks notice two weeks ago. Today is my last day working.
OnlyMexicanOtherThanMeInThatOffice: OH MY GOD! NO! I'M GOING TO MISS YOU! WHO ELSE IS GOING TO BRING ME ADOBO?!
(Why the fuck are we Mexicans so fucking loud? She seriously sounds like that ALL THE TIME)
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

They proceeded to have a conversation about WHY she put her two weeks notice.
I guess they had been treating her like shit for some time... but the straw that broke the camel's back was when they placed me in her cubicle.
OH MY GOD! I'M SO SORRY!!!!
Ms. Catty is PoorLady's bestie.
Since Ms. Catty holds a managerial job, she was aware of the two weeks notice, but no one else in the office did (well, none of us scanners. PoorLady had asked them to please keep it on the downlow).

I felt as if someone had just kneed me in the gut.
I wanted to cry.
I slouched in my seat and... wanted to disappear. The guilt was unbearable.
She was a fucking sweet lady!
God, I'd hate ME too! This explains so much! I get you, Ms. Catty, I get you.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why I hold off on beating the shit out of people when they're mean to me.
There always has to be something behind people's behavior... unless, you know, they're psychopaths or whatever.