What about the peg leg?

So I had a conversation with my (I'm finally getting use to saying, and accepting) gay friend last week over a bulletin he posted concerning Halloween costumes.

Him: A word to the wise...
ladies- please don't be a cat! that is such a cop out!
so is a vampire

I asked him what was up with that (since you know, I've never "celebrated" Halloween or anything).
He just said I'd understand come Halloween time.

But being a cat would be so cute...

Ok... so last night I figured out why it was said.

What the fuck is wrong with us girls?
Out of all the chicks at the party, four were pirates. Four!!!
Their costumes were freakishly similar (but never the same one).

-There was a slutty nurse (who I felt compelled to ask if she knew what a defibrillator was... as well as what "inoculation" meant, but alas, I bit my tongue and smiled at her when she publicly explained "I'm a nurse! hehe..." Gee, you don't say? I thought those red crosses stood for radioactive material).
-There was a hardcore SKANKY cop (oh believe me, there will be pictures, once I find them... and I'll compare them to the cop costume one of my best friends wore last year. So much better).
-There was a playboy bunny (not so skanky... but... maybe that was because she wasn't as "voluptuous" as the other chicks i.e. she was a twig with no breast implants)
-There was one cheerleader (which baffled me... because... I thought more chicks dressed up as cheerleaders).
-There was a... sexy ladybug? (I still kind of am confused as to what this girl was... but there was a ton of skin, stiletto heels, knee-high stockings... and what appeared to be the wings of a lady bug??)
-There were TWO cats.

"I'm a sexy kitty!" (said with the world's most annoying Ghetto NewYoRican accent. I'm talking more annoying than Rosie Perez. Yeah, well, can the sexy kitty please just... meow or something, fuck!)

There were more... but those are the most memorable.
What was I? That's for me to know and you to never find out.

When the girls arrived... I started wondering where the hell I was.

When in the hell... did I become acquainted with (to?) Playboy Playmates, and why am I invited to their parties?

Somehow... over the last... 4 years since I graduated high school, my female acquaintances have become... scandalously... stereotypical Vegas chicks.
That'd be great if I were a dude... (I guess my guy friends luck out... when it comes to eye candy of course, because none of these girls have much going on en la cabeza... and they're poster girls for the derogatory use of the word "bitch," to tell you the truth. Plus, the dudes invited to these parties cockblock like a motherfucker, and give you shit if you bring a dude that isn't part of the group... kind of like lions do when new male come near their pride. Primitive bastards)
Or maybe if the guy acquaintances from high school would have done such a thing... wait, no... 'cause if they were stereotypical Vegas guys, they'd be douche bags... which my high school male acquaintances sure fucking are.
(To sum it up, yesterday's party was... wow... just wow.)

Happy Halloween...
yada fucking yada.

Give me that cable!!

This transpired last night, when Sister came home from work at around 12 AM and I was still working on my lab report.

Little Sister: Did you tell AnoMALIE what AlcoholicCoolNeighbor said?
Mom: No, I haven't talked to her all day (very true).
(from the office)
Me: No!!!! What? What did he say??
Little Sister: Shut up, I'm talking to Mom.
(I run to the kitchen where Mom and Little Sister are talking while making quesadillas)
Me: What did AlcoholicCoolNeighbor say?
Mom and Little Sister: That he has cable.
Little Sister: He's had cable for over a year now...

Whaaaaaaaaat?!
Mother fucker.

Eau de Gummi Bear

Don't ever let Little Sister go to the store to buy you body wash with the only instruction being "Just get me some of that Tone body wash... the one with sugar in it."

Yes, they make some body wash that has sugar in it... it serves as some sort of exfoliate (exfoliant?).
I actually love the stuff... it smells good... and it actually kind of scrubs without hurting you (unless you have an open wound... I found that out the hard way one time, and I actually screamed while in the shower... not a girly scream... but a pain scream as if a bear were gnawing off my leg).

Well, since I had no time to go to the store, Little Sister asked me what I needed, and I reminded her of the body wash.

She came home a couple of hours later and showed me her find.

Little Sister: Ok, so I know you use the green one... but this orange one smelled so good to me! and the name's pretty cool... I wanna see if it works. Tell me if it works.
Me: Cool... whatever... thanks.

Well, I ran out of the green body wash the other day and decided to use the orange one today.

Everything was fine and dandy until I began to apply the body wash.

What the fuck is that? Shit... it's... so... strong... but... must... continue... or... I'll be late...

Point being: I now smell like a gummy bear thanks to hopping in the shower last minute and not having any back up REAGULAR soap to wash up with.

Why do I smell like a gummy bear?
I checked out the bottle... and here's the 411:

Name of the product:
Tahitian Vanilla and Orchid (with 7 moisturizing botanicals)

Ok... 7 moisturizing botanicals... let's check those out:
The 7 moisturizing botanicals include: (they only list of 3 out of 7 with a short description of the 3)

Soybean: Nutrient rich and soothing.
Jojoba: Conditions and Moisturizes.
Marshmallow: Softens and soothes.

Marshmallow! Why do I feel like a s'more all of a sudden?

Had you ever heard of such a thing? Marshmallow in body wash? And it softens and soothes?
Well I'll be damned.
I'm sure it attracts an assload of mosquitoes, too.

Now when I turn to look over my shoulder, I'm confused by the sudden smell of candy... I swear it's the scent of fresh gummies (I imagine this is what the Gummiberry Juice smelled liked on that one Disney show, Gummi Bears, to tell you the truth).

Why hello there, bare... wonderful... sweet shoulder... I'm sure... it's ok if I... just lick you... a little... real quick... I'll stop... I swear... soon...

Man, who the hell invented this, and why doesn't it come with a warning?

Three movies and a test

Hey, AnoMALIE, why was it that you have to re-take molecular again?

Well... because when it came to note taking, I liked fucking around and doodled all over my notes/had side conversations with my buddy Chase:
But also because instead of studying, I spent my important weekends bullshitting around...
and by the looks of it, things haven't changed.

I have a molecular exam in less than 24 hours... and what did I do this weekend?
This:

(Not bad, but it did bum me out for the night... it also didn't help that I felt super out of place because I decided to dress like a preppy golfer to the East side of Vegas... where "my people" aka latin gangsta's stared me down like nobody's business... which, of course, was only met by my "You want a Driver to your 'intimidating' little face, motherfucker?" attitude. Why is it that I can only be a bitch to my latinos? Also!! They fucking charged me 10 dollars for this movie! Ten fucking dollars!! What does my ticket say? Thank you! Bitch ass ticket agent. Perrrrrra.)
(So I kept it safe and stayed in my side of town on Saturday. By far, the best, cutest movie I saw over the weekend. Not that the other two were bad, by no means... I just liked this one better)

(I told myself I was going to study all day today. Did I? Hell no. It didn't take much convincing from Little Sister and Mom to go to this movie... followed by some P.F. Changs.... which tasted like shit, by the way)

And now... I swear, seriously, that I am going to study.... seriously.

Family Trait?

17-year-old Second Cousin: What happens when my boyfriend turns 18?
Little Sister: Umm... I guess... hopefully he becomes more mature?
17YOSC: No, I mean... I'll be 17, and he'll be 18.
LS: I'm not sure...
17YOSC: Ask your sister.

LS (to me): Hey... what happens when 17YOSC's boyfriend turns 18?
Me: He'll be registered in the Selective Service System??

LS (to 17YOSC): He'll be registered for the Selective Service System.
17YOSC: No, no! I mean... legally...
LS (to me): She means legally..
Me: (internally) Fuck, I hate kids. (spoken) What the hell do you mean, "legally?"
LS (to 17YOSC): What the hell do you mean "legally?"
17YOSC: Like... will he get in trouble for having... you know... if we do anything... you know... because I'll still be a minor...
LS: Ohhh!! Hey, AnoMALIE, she means will he get in trouble for having sex with a "minor" since she'll still be underage.
Me: (internally) 17YOSC, you're an idiot. (spoken) Oh... well... I don't know much law... but I bet if her parents wanted to be assholes, they'd get him in trouble.
LS (to 17YOSC): Only if your parents were really angry and wanted to get him in trouble...
17YOSC: Ah... ok... we were thinking we were going to have to break up. Good to know I won't have to now... I love him.
Me: (internally)... because he hasn't made you cry in the last 36 hours?
LS: I guess...
17YOSC: Like the other day... he said the sweetest thing to **group of his friends**
LS: Really?
17YOSC: Yeah... he went around saying I gave the best brain he's ever had.
LS and Me: Oh...

...like she graduated from a good school...

Her mom must be so proud.

Hassle with tassels

So I finally know what it is I'm supposed to be doing for graduation.
Well... to the extent which UNLV deemed fit.
We all know UNLV loves to fuck around.

Anyway, the more and more I think about it, the more I just want to fucking flee the city... the country... and skip the graduation (so unlikely to happen. I'm sure Mom would chain me to the bed if she had to, just so she can live vicariously through me and imagine herself being the one picking up the fake diploma on December 21st. I'm so jaded to that shit thanks to high school... I could really give two shits if I go on stage to shake people's hand while dressed in a very unflattering black bag they so humorously like to call a "gown").
Maybe... I'll just buy a tassel as a keepsake:

My four and a half miserable years at UNLV as a biology major.

(I lie... my first year as a bio major, while stressful to a point [you know, thanks to professors constantly reminding you how difficult the subject is and how unlikely it is for you to graduate... and how things come up, yada yada yada], was actually pretty fucking awesome.
Sophomore year would have been equally awesome had it not been for my vomiting issues being magnified thanks to good ol' organic chemistry pre-exam anxiety [vomiting once or twice before an exam had always been normal throughout high school... but 20+ times in one day? Some days I wonder why I refused to go to a doctor and get that checked. That's probably one of the only stereotypes I seem to (seriously) perpetuate for my Latinos])


With all my heart, I just want it all to be over.

Dear God, make me a bird... so I can fly far... far, far away from here...

Damn, Forrest Gump has always been so relevant in my life (and I get Taking Back Sunday's "Twenty-twenty surgery" stuck in my head immediately after. Particularly this part: You're so sensitive, I am, I am a machine [repeat, repeat, repeat]. What my immersion into English music has done to me... ).

20/4

Field trips in the middle of class really discombobulate me.

In yesterday's news:

I know where I get my gift of exaggeration... Dad.
This went down yesterday.

(I walk into the kitchen and Dad's on the phone, destroying everything in his path... i.e. he's tearing shit up looking for a damn platter that's located right in front of the sink)

Dad: What the hell do you mean "right next to the sink?" I'm looking and I can't find anything!Where am I supposed to cook these lobsters?!
(I walk to the cabinet where his dumb platter is. I then hold it up for him to see.)
Dad: (to the phone) Your daughter over here found it. That wasn't "right next to the sink," by the way.
(silence)
Dad: (to the phone) It was IN FRONT of the sink! (click)

(Dad starts kicking plastic cups and kickable shit into the cabinets. I stand and stare at him exasperated. Why? Guess who's going to have to sort that shit out later on... yeah, me)

Dad: See, this is why I get so infuriated! All this garbage! All this shit!

(picks up a Styrofoam box from Buffalo Wild Wings)

Dad: Like this shit... what do we need it for?!

(crushes Styrofoam box with one hand)

Me: ... well... I wouldn't touch it... I mean... Mom'll get really mad if she comes home and finds things missing.
Dad: She's a pack rat!! Just like her mother!!
Me: (internally) Should I laugh?? Should I tell him to hold his horses and not offend my grandmommy? Fuck... he's mad... ok, I'll laugh.

(I laugh)

Me: Yeah... but what can you do?
Dad: 20 bags!! I threw away 20 bags of trash when you guys were in Mexico this summer!
Me: (internally) Well I'll be fucking damned... you serious?

(I raise my eyebrows in amazement)

Dad: And your sister threw away 5!! And look! Look! It still looks the same!!

(Throws a stack of mail against the wall)

Me: Yeah... it kind of does. (internally) Fuck, my dad is mad... I'll be leaving right... now.

When I walk away, I go to Little Sister's room and close the door.

Me: Dude... you guys threw shit away while we were in Mexico??
(Sister grins mischievously)
Sister: Yeah...
Me: Dude... so my dad threw 20 bags of garbage?!
Sister: (raises eyebrows) No!! God no! He threw away 4!
Me: How the hell did you throw away 5?!
Sister: I threw away one!!

At least Dad's consistent in his exaggerating. He multiplies by 5.
(Screw the exaggeration part, I get my fits of rage from good ol' Dad)