Easy Win, Flawless Victory

Christmas as a kid VS Christmas as an adult

2011-12-29T22:50:00.000-06:00

How to deal with annoying phone calls

2011-11-12T22:28:00.000-06:00

So lately I've been getting these weird phone calls at home and at my mobile, and nobody is on the other side.

This is how I dealt with the situation:

They haven't called back.
Try it!

Grammar Nazi - Part 1

2011-10-24T23:28:00.000-05:00

So, I've been reading a couple of emails, facebook comments and student homeworks, and I decided to start a series of posts of how to SPELL!

Family Reunions

2011-10-10T01:02:00.001-05:00

Don't you gremlins love family reunions? Getting together, catching up, exchanging life experiences... It is just lovely.

Except when you're a kid.

When you're a kid and you know that you're going to a family reunion, you get excited because you think that you'll be able to play with your other cousins that live far away. Truth is, you don't; Auntie Prudence wants to say hi to you, and Grandma Jenna wants to hug you and play with your hair.

Family reunions are worse for teenagers. Turns out that the grown-ups are still all over you, but now, NOW they criticize "that weird phase you're in".

Aunt Fionna: Sis, what is up with your daughter? Is she on drugs?

Your Mom: No... She's just going through a phase.

Aunt Bertha: Well, I think you should be careful. Some day she'll end up getting drunk and pregnant, like Martha's daughter.

Your Mom: What? No! She doesn't even have a boyfriend.

Aunt Fionna: What about that weird boy that came over to your house last week?

Your Mom: Oh, he's just her friend.

Aunt Bertha: "He's just her friend"? That's what Martha used to say...

If you thought family reunions were bad, they are even worse for young adults, because not only are they on top of you and criticize you, but now they compare you.

Uncle Joe: So, what are you studying Sofie?

Sofie (your cousin): I'm in med-school.

Uncle Joe: Wow, that is great!

Sofie (your cousin): Yes. I love being able to help people.

Aunt Prudence: I am so proud of you!

Sofie (your cousin): Thanks!

Uncle Joe: And what are you studying [Your Name]?

[Your Name]: Communications.

(LONG PAUSE)

Aunt Prudence: Oh... ... ... ...

Uncle Joe: ... ... ... And, uhm... ... ... what is that?

Aunt Prudence: It's for being on TV, right?

[Your Name]: Actually, Communication has to do with almost everything these days: TV, radio, film, press, Internet, private organizations, public relations, government campains....

And you can carry on with your explanation, but all they hear is:

Aunt Prudence: Sounds... ... ... interesting.

Uncle Joe: And why didn't you become a doctor like Sofie? You were very smart.

Apparently you became stupid for picking another career.

Sofie (your cousin): Well, that's what [Your Name] likes. We have to respect her decision.

Aunt Prudence: Well, yeah, but for a person to be on TV, one would expect someone more attractive, like you Sofie.

Sofie (your cousin): ... Uhm, thank you, but I don't like the showbiz.

Aunt Prudence: You are so right. Besides, why would you wanna waste your life with that, right?

(LONG PAUSE)

Aunt Prudence: Not that you (that's YOU) are wasting your time. I mean, you have to follow your heart, right? Not economic success, like Sofie, because she's a doctor.

Yes... They always compare you. This is a graphic of "awesomeness" according to your family members:

But that's not the worst part. The worst part is when a cousin or sibling shows up with their fiance(e) or newly wife/husband, and you just broke up.

Grandma Jenna: Oh, that is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen!

Diana (your cousin): Thanks grandma!

[Your Name]: Congratulations Diana! I'm so happy for you!

Diana (your cousin): Aw, thank you!

Aunt Claire: [Your Name], what happened to your boyfriend? I thought you were going to be married by now.

[Your Name]: Yes, well, we broke up.

Aunt Rose: But why did you break up? He was so handsome!

[Your Name]: Well, we wanted different things.

In other words, you wanted to only be with him, and he wanted to be with three other women at the same time.

Grandma Jenna: Oh, honey, nobody's perfect; you have to learn to accept your boyfriend's flaws.

[Your Name]: I know grandma.

Aunt Claire: Besides, he was rich! You never break up with a rich man!

Yeah, just because he's rich and handsome I am going to forget that he cheated on me... twice.

Diana (your cousin): Oh, let her be. True love always comes around, sooner or later.

Aunt Rose: Sooner we hope, because she is not getting any younger...

Yes. Family reunions can be very overwhelming.

Have you guys ever had that kind of experience? I have... LOTS of times...

On another subject, I am going to be giving away an "Assassin's Creed: Revelations" game on my Youtube channel. If you want to participate, be sure to check the video with the rules this week :)

Addictions... Barbie meets Final Fantasy

2011-10-02T22:10:00.002-05:00

Hi, my name is Mariel Garcia, and I admit I am an addict. Wait, what's that? NO NO NO NO! Not to drugs or alcohol or smoking! (I hate all of those.... EW!). I am an addict to getting obsessed pretty easily.

Seriously, there is something really wrong with me. I get obsessed about stuff pretty easily: World of Warcraft, Terraria, Glee... But it doesn't come all at the same time. I get obsessed little by little, one thing at a time, and I make my life revolve around that "thing" until I finally get bored and start another obsession.

I guess it all began when I first started playing online video games. The first one was Neopets.

http://www.neopets.com/

I lived 24/7 just to feed my neopet cow, to play with my neopet cow, to build a home for my neopet cow. Every thing revolved around my pixelated friend "MiKau" (like "The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask" character... again, I get obsessed pretty easily). And not only that -oh no- I had all of my cousins play it with me, 'cause that's what I do: I get obsessed about something and make everybody else get obsessed about it too.
I am not kidding, Apple owes me HUGE! Thanks to me, seven other people bought an iPhone. SERIOUSLY.

After Neopets, I began to play Gaia Online.

http://www.gaiaonline.com/

This time, I got all my high school friends and my brothers AND my cousins to play it with me. I had so many stuff, so many "rare items" that are now probably worth about 200,000,000,000,000,000 gold (seriously). Gaia was even better than Neopets, because you could actually dress your character with lots of clothes, but it had anime and video game clothes too! It was like Barbie meets Final Fantasy......... EPIC!
While I was obsessed with Gaia, my little brother discovered GunZ.

http://gunz.ijji.com/

GunZ opened my eyes to a whole different online video game experience: I could slash-jump, walk on walls, butterfly move, and still be able to use swords AND guns. It was one of the coolest games ever. GunZ made me forget about Gaia, and I began to play it 24/7. I made lots of friends (and one of those actually felt so close to me that decided that I was going to be the first person to hear that he was "coming out of the closet"... Back then, I felt honored that he trusted in me......... Now...... Now I feel weird about it. LOL), and I had two guilds and everything. It was one of the coolest games ever, until they hacked my account and deleted my character. That was it. I was so mad and annoyed, that I decided never to play again (yeah, it was a rage quit. So what? I was 16!).

But I wouldn't worry about that for much longer. Soon after my account got hacked, we discovered MapleStory.

http://maplestory.nexon.net/

Let me just say that MapleStory is the first and only MMO in which I have "donated" to get extra stuff. MapleStory was one of those games that you couldn't stop playing: awesome music, cool graphics, my friends were playing it, lots of "jobs" (healer, warrior, rogue, magician...), it was really easy to play and, most importantly, it didn't have hackers (back then at least). I LOVED MapleStory. I LIVED to play MapleStory: I would play between 2 to 12 hours (depending on school and vacation time). I had an awesome guild with lots of friendly people, awesome leveling skills, awesome armor and weapons... I even made videos about it on Youtube (yes, my very first videos ever made. Here it is, so you can laugh at how noob I was:)

Every thing was perfect, until hackers began to play and it got really hard to level up.
So I quit and moved on to Tibia.

I know, Tibia should've been the first, but I discovered it until later. I didn't get to play it much, because I then discovered iRose Online. iRose was pretty awesome and cool, and I was beginning to love it and play it every single day, until they decided to delete the accounts because they were going to make it a "pay to play" game. GOODBYE iRose! And welcome FlyFF!

Nevermind FlyFF. It was boring. Moving on to the best MMORPG's ever made: World of Warcraft. Yes baby, WoW!

http://us.battle.net/wow/en/

WoW must be the MMO I love the most. Really. I get obsessed about it, start playing it 24/7 until I eventually get to level 80, and then get bored of it, delete the account and give a farewell, only to miss it again, and create a new account and start playing it again, over and over again. (I only play in private servers, NOT 'CAUSE I'M CHEAP, but because all of my friends play it and it's easier to level up... I'm sorry, I'm lazy!).
I have fallen into the WoW obsession over 4 times. The first time, I made a Priest Female Night Elf. The second time, I made a Druid Female Night Elf. Third time, another Druid Female Night Elf and a Paladin Female Blood Elf. Fourth time, yet another Druid Female Night Elf. MOONKIN! RAWR!
Let me just make something clear: I am not ally or horde, I am both. Honestly, I prefer the Blood Elves, but all of my friends are alliance so I play them both. Big deal.

World of Warcraft has given me so many good and fun times with my friends and my brothers; it has given me awesome ideas for the book I am writing (details about it in the future); it has given me amazing music that allows me to relax while I work... It's just awesome. But it's also very VERY addicting. I had to buy special glasses so my eyes wouldn't turn red after being in front of my laptop for more than 10 hours. It is addicting. Honestly.

WoW is not the only thing I have become obsessed about. Terraria is now in that list as well.

http://www.terraria.org/

I am not kidding. I make videos about it on Youtube:

Yes, very weird and silly videos about Terraria, but I looooooove playing it... Again, it's addicting.

A side from video games, I get obsessed about TV shows as well. Right now, it's "Glee" and "Drop Dead Diva". A few years ago, it was "Grey's Anatomy", "Desperate Housewives" and "CSI", and more years ago, "Friends", "Seinfeld" and "The Nanny".

Food is something that I get obsessed about as well: I used to eat french toast every single night for two months. And don't get me started about cereal. Cereal is a whole different subject: "Special K" was for three whole years; and then it was "Lucky Charms" for five months; "Cheerios" was for eight months; and now it's "Nestlé Fitness".

Yes. I become obsessed really easily. Nothing I can do about it. That's just me. *sigh*

Do you guys have any obsession? I know I can't be the only one out there, hahaha. Lemme know! Leave a comment!

Anyways, here's the vloggity from last week in case you missed it:

Becoming an adult: the foreign student way.

2011-09-24T23:54:00.000-05:00

One of the things that will help ANY kid turn into an adult is living as a foreign student. Really.

I will bet a whole dollar on this subject.

Take any snobby, rich, pompous teenager and throw him/her into the hands of the real world, without any help from mommy or daddy, and I do mean any sort of help: no clean laundry, no warm bed, no good food, no clean house, no NOTHING.

Let's start a sort of description of what could occur to our test subject: Timmy.

Timmy is a teenager that thinks his life is perfect because he has his own room, with a LED TV, a king sized bed, an Xbox 360, PS3 and Nintendo Wii, and every cool stuff and gadget you can imagine.
But there is a catch to this perfect life: test subject Timmy has never worked in his entire life, never helped mom with the house chores, never asked dad about car issues or money administration, never helped out his sister with cooking, never done any good thing or had to work to get all those things, making him take things for granted.

But what is THAT on the table test subject? Is that a letter from the community college accepting you? GREAT! Let's begin your new journey into adulthood!

Part 1: Moving.
Test subject Timmy will have to move to another city, 4 hours away from home. He thinks "Perfect, now my parents won't be able to check on me every single second of my life! I will finally be free and will be able to do ANYTHING I WANT!"

Test subject Timmy packs his three consoles, his fancy leather jacket, 20 bazillion jeans and t-shirts, and his awesome LED TV. But, what's that Timmy? You can't afford rent by yourself and you'll have to live with another three dudes? And share a room with one of them? FANTASTIC! The closet is not big enough? You'll have to keep most of your stuff inside the luggage bag? Awwwww, that's too bad!
What's that now? Your new roomies never heard of deodorant? Awww, TOO BAD!

Part 2: Sharing a bathroom.
So, you finally settled in and managed to fit all your stuff in the tiny 4x4 room you share with your gorilla roomate that smells funny and sleeps naked.
Now it's time to take a bath and get ready for your first day at college! FUN!
But, what's that? There is somebody in the bathroom and someone else is in line! And your class starts in 20 minutes!?! BUMMER!!

You finally get inside the bathroom, with only 5 minutes left, and SURPRISE SURPRISE! Facial hair EVERY WHERE! Now you're missing your clean bathroom that your dear mommy used to take care of, right?

Part 3: Food.
Living as a foreign student can be either thrilling and fascinating, or scaring and overwhelming. Room and bathroom times are not the only thing you have to share. Food is a whole different matter.
Test subject has bought his favorite cereal and places it near the refrigerator. Test subject Timmy leaves to school and later comes back to see his EMPTY cereal box.... WHAT ON EARTH HAS HAPPENED TO IT?!?

Apparently, test subject Timmy does not know the basic rules of sharing a house with three other dudes: NEVER LEAVE YOUR SPECIAL FOOD IN PLAIN SITE. Period.
Not only will other people eat it and blame the others, but they will also either burn or throw away food at any sort of whim.
Lesson learned.

Part 4: Paying bills and rent.
Test subject Timmy gets 500 dls per month to pay rent, bills, buy food, school materials, etc etc. But test subject Timmy forgets that mommy and daddy also have to pay for other stuff, and decides to waste his money on parties and alcohol and cool clothes (which don't fit in his tiny closet) to look good for college girls.
What's that? You and your roommates forgot to turn off the lights and the electric bill exploded? And you don't have enough money?
What ever will you do, Timmy? You called your parents and they said that you are on your own because they are still paying for that LED TV you have in your room (that just broke because your gorilla roommate accidentally pushed it over with this schoolbag) and now you're stuck? TOO BAD! I guess you'll have to sell your Xbox. BOO-HOO!
Lesson learned!

Part 5: Laundry.
Test subject Timmy never helped his mom or even took the time to ask about laundry issues. So now, he is stuck with his two-week-old clothes. What's that Timmy? You don't have enough money to pay for two washing machines? What's the worst thing that could happen you ask, if you put all your clothes in one single machine? Let's see!

Oh noes! All of your white clothes have been replaced by some weird pink, blueish clothes? And your socks and underwear seem smaller? Awwww, TOO BAD! You are wishing you helped out your mom more often? Yes, YOU SHOULD HAVE!

Part 6: Sickness.
You were out all night while it was raining because you forgot your keys and your roommates were out? And now you are sick? Aw, poor test subject Timmy. You are wishing for your parents or sister to be here to take care of you and make you a warm soup?

But they can't be here, they live FOUR HOURS AWAY! What's that? You never knew how much they did for you? Good for you to notice. Maybe you should give them a call and tell them that, after you pay your telephone bill.

Part 7: House cleaning.
So, you have managed to live a whole month with your obnoxious roommates that have their music very loud until 3am, not letting you sleep and making you remember about all those times your dad told you to turn your music off............. Good old dad, you sure miss him now, don't you?
But you don't live with him anymore... nope. Now you have come to realize that you have new roommates: cockroaches.

Yes, apparently they will come to visit your house every time it's dirty and, let's face it, living with three dudes, that's almost every day.
You've never seen a broom or any sort of cleaning supplies. What do you do? Look it up on Google! GOOD FOR YOU! (kinda sad, but at least you are using the technology for another purpose other than copying essays and looking up at certain type of pictures or videos).

Part 8: The discovery.
Congratulations! You have finally realized all the things that your parents did for you without getting anything in exchange, other than your love as a son. You give your parents a call and thank them for everything, as well as asking them for tips, tips that a couple of weeks ago you would have hated, but now adore and listen to with care and wonder.
Test subject Timmy is now capable of handling a house, paying bills, doing his own laundry, and taking care of his own life.
YOU HAVE WON! CONGRATULATIONS TEST SUBJECT TIMMY! You are now, A MAN.

Seriously, becoming a foreign student is the only (or fastest) way to become an adult. Been there, done that. Try it out, you won't regret it.

And if it doesn't work, well, you win a whole imaginary dollar! :D

Butter

2011-09-08T21:49:00.001-05:00

So, I was talking to my mom about the blog, and she decided to tell me a story; a story, that happened 23 years ago...

I was a weird child, always getting into trouble, jumping around, trying to get attention, fighting with my older brother, acting in front of groups of people (because, apparently, I liked to pretend I was a spokeswoman), always coming up with stuff to "express" myself.
Back then, I wasn't afraid of anything: I loved scary movies, especially the ones with lots of blood; I would go out and play with mud and dirt (just like any other regular kid); I even put a cricket in my mouth once (which makes me feel bad for my mom... SHE had to take it out).

It all started when I was 2 years-old; not only did I learn to walk, but I also learned to "move around on my own".
In simple words: I was trouble.

It was summer and, back in the days, the city would get really REALLY hot.
My mom was quietly doing her motherly chores, while my father was at work and my older brother with my cousins.
I, on the other hand, was "asleep", and had a baby monitor (the very first ones, I think). But I-as we all know by now-am ninja. So, sensing the excessive heat in my room, I quietly got up and decided to do something about it.

It wasn't until a few 10 or 20 minutes later that my mother heard a very soft, weird noise coming from the kitchen.

She approached the kitchen, and..............

Dun

DUN

DUUUUUN!!!!

I was sitting on the floor, with the refrigerator door open (how I managed to open the door, it's still a mystery), covering myself with butter. A BUCKET OF BUTTER. I was completely covered: body, diaper, hair........ everything was buttery!

My mom quickly sprinted towards me, taking the bucket of sweet, COLD, butter away from me. She then proceeded to try to carry me to the bathroom to clean me up BUT I was covered in butter, ergo, I was slippery!

She couldn't get a hold of me! So, she decided to get a towel and wrap me around with it, taking me to the shower to bathe me.

It took her nearly 40 minutes to get all the butter off of me... God bless my mom. I love her!

Funny fact: I still love butter! You would think that something like that would gross me out, but no. Not at all. I loooove toast bread with butter!

Anyways, what are you guys up to these days?

I wanted to thank you for all of your support and for making the blog international: it's now being read in over 30 countries! So thank you so much, my dear dear gremlins! I couldn't have done this without you :)

Thanks again, and I hope you enjoyed this week's post!

EDIT: I forgot to tell you guys about the video of this week! Check it out:

My brother, "the coyote trainer", and a cockroach bit me!

2011-09-01T23:30:00.001-05:00

Remember how I said that I lived with three other people? Well, one of those is my kid brother, Luis. Living with my kid brother is... well, interesting.

Don't get me wrong, I love him and he is the sweetest kid I know, BUT, we are too different: I sing out loud, he hates loud noises; I want to clean the house during the day, he wants to do it during the night; I like to hug him, he doesn't like being hugged; I want Chatis to live inside the house, he wants her outside of the house; I want to play Mario Party, he hates playing Mario Party (because he always wins... I am sure he cheats, I just know it!).

We disagree on a daily basis on a lot of things. Then again, we can be the best team if we set our minds to it: he cooks, I do the dishes; he calls the landlord to fix the house problems and other repairs, I take care of paying the rent; he plans the list of stuff we need to buy, I drive us to the grocery store; there's a creepy guy outside of our house? Luis takes care of it!

My brother is awesome, I know: he never parties, he's neat and clean, he's super smart and he has really good friends and a caring girlfriend. I really can't complain. But lately... lately we've been having some really strange calls. People keep calling for "Luis, the coyote trainer". WHAT THE F!?!?

Neither one of us has an idea of what that is about. We asked Luis and he doesn't know either, he says it's probably the wrong number.
But, seriously, SERIOUSLY, a "coyote trainer"? REALLY?!?! WHY ON EARTH would someone call a coyote trainer? I don't think there's even a coyote trainer listed in the yellow pages! And even if there were, what are the chances that his name is Luis and his house number would be similar to ours? HUH!?!?

...
...
...

(Okay, I just looked it up and, no, there is no coyote trainer whatsoever. BOOYA!):

My little brother is no coyote trainer (as far as I know). But the calls won't stop! I really can't imagine my little brother trying to train a coyote.

(Hmm... Okay... He just might probably be able to do it.)

Seriously, WHAT is the DEAL with THAT!? A COYOTE TRAINER? REALLY?!?! Augh!!!! I guess we'll never truly now for sure. But, mark my words: if they call again and I pick up the phone, I'm asking! I DON'T CARE!

Anyways, sorry for the lateness of the blog, but I've been working a lot lately! I'm also uploading videos on Youtube, if you guys want to check those out.

And, yes, you are probably wondering about the rest of the title of this blog, "a cockroach bit me"... well, it did! It really happened! HONEST!
I woke up yesterday, and I was just about to leave for work when I spotted a "dead" cockroach upside down. I grabbed some napkins and put them on top of the roach, then proceeded to step on it (yes, I use the napkins so my shoes won't get stained) and then picked it up with another napkin, and STING! The little bastard bit me! IT WASN'T DEAD YET! As if the poison (our house has this awesome poison effect that lasts for the whole year and it kills roaches and ants) and the stepping on wasn't enough! So, I threw it to the floor and stepped on it, again, and again, and again, until I was sure it was completely dead.

I think that if the world really ends in 2012, the only living thing that's gonna make it through are roaches; I have no idea how they manage to survive so easily! But, they always do. Always.

My first car

2011-08-25T21:09:00.000-05:00

I had a really good childhood. I can't complain. We didn't have a lot of money, but my parents always managed to get us cool toys to play with.

The one I can remember the most was "Lalo", my first doll. He was a baby, like "Big Baby" from Toy Story 3:

Picture taken from http://geektyrant.com/news/2010/4/6/final-toy-story-3-characters-unveiled-big-baby-and-bookworm.html

Well, "Lalo" was my companion in all of my playdates and adventures. I say "adventures" because, as you may know, I wasn't an ordinary kid.
The thing is, having an ADHD 4 year old can be hard work. So my mom always had to find me something to do because I wouldn't stop jumping around, breaking stuff or wanting attention.
My parents' solution was simple: get little Mariel a Play School car.

Let me describe it with one word: EPICNESS!

That red and yellow car was the coolest, most awesome thing someone had given me. My reaction towards the car cannot be described in words.

I kept opening the door, getting inside, then getting outside, and closing the door, over and over again. I must have entered and left the car nearly about 40 times until my mom finally told me that I could use my legs to move from one place to the other.

So, next thing I did was open the door, sit inside the car, close the door, and start walking. It was AMAZING! I WAS DRIVING MY OWN CAR! Now I looked like me dad! I felt so stylish and "big", I wasn't going to be called "a baby" anymore. That car and me driving it (well, walking it) was even cooler than not looking at explosions.

My parents soon realized the huge mistake they had made: giving a CAR (toy, but still a car... it had wheels!) to an ADHD 4 year old.

In short: I NEVER LEFT THE CAR.

I would drive around with it to the kitchen, to the living room, to my room, to the garden (and taking dirt and mud into the house), to the bathroom, to my parents' room, to my brother's room... But it was just too awesome to not play with it.

Years passed and the car would still be my companion. Lalo would sometimes come along with us, making playtime even better.

I eventually grew taller than the car, but that wouldn't stop me from using it.

I loved my car with all my heart.

And then... that dreadful day...................

I came home from swimming class, all excited to play with my car and "drive it to the beach" (because of course you imagine that you're driving somewhere) and then I saw it.

My older brother's friends decided to climb on its roof all at once and broke it.

I mourned my car so bad; Lalo and I prepared a burial for it, we even dug a hole on the garden, but my parents caught us and made me go back to my room---without Lalo ('cause he was all muddy).

So, that's the story about my first car. I really don't know how my parent's got rid of the broken thing, but I sure know they didn't bury it.

I almost got killed... by a roof!

2011-08-16T19:24:00.001-05:00

A couple of years ago, my coworkers and I used to travel a lot... work issues, of course. Since all of us have family members in the cities nearby, we thought it would be cooler if we stayed at our respective parents' house instead of paying for an hotel. So girls would stick with girls, and boys with boys.

My parents live in a small border city, so every time we had to go there for a business meeting, Gina (a coworker) and I would stay at my parents' house; we would have awesome breakfast, cable TV, video games and a laundry room. Pretty neat.

There was this one time that we had to travel to the city where Gina's parents lived. So, we got there, left our bags and headed towards the meeting.

I remember that day very very vaguely (because I was tired... REALLY TIRED). Back then, one of my functions as a video editor was also working with the camera. And I'm talking about a BIG camera (well, "big" for me because I'm rather small and skinny). So, imagine a 23 year old skinny girl, with back issues (I have ankylosing spondylitis, but don't worry, I'm fine), holding a big video camera on her shoulders... Not cool!

I know the camera view is facing the other way... It's just more dramatic this way, right?

Anyways, after the big event finally ended, we headed towards Gina's home. It was close to 10pm, and she decided to take a bath right after dinner. So, since they only had one bathroom, I had to wait for my turn (I always, ALWAYS shower at night... my hair looks cooler in the morning that way). So, right after she finished, she went into her room and put the lights out, and I headed towards the bathroom.

I really can't remember how long the shower was, maybe 20 minutes (sorry world). Regardless, it was really late and everybody was fast asleep.
I put my pj's on and quietly opened the door to head towards the guest room. But... it was dark... REALLY dark. I couldn't see a thing. Good thing was I had a good memory and remembered how the corridor looked like; I knew there was a low table and a couple of chairs, a dresser and a lamp. But I also knew that on that table, there was some glass jars and a couple of ceramic figures (an angel, I think).

Do you remember one of my older posts that said I was clumsy? Well... this time was definitely not going to be any different. I was going to be tested.

I quietly picked up my dirty clothes and towel, and walked very veeeeeeeeery carefully between the very veeeeeeeeeery dark room.

I know what you're thinking: "TURN ON THE LIGHTS!". Well, I thought so too, but this wasn't my house, so a) I didn't know where the switch was; and b) I didn't want to wake anybody up.

Anyway, I continued my way through the corridor, almost reaching the room. And then........... *CRASH!*

WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?!?! I DIDN'T TOUCH ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!! I looked everywhere amidst the darkness but couldn't see anything! What did I just break?!?! And more importantly HOW DID I BREAK IT?!?!

You can imagine what happened next... EMBARRASSMENT.

Gina came out of her room and gave me the weirdest look ever.

Gina: What happened?
Me: I AM SOOOO SORRY!
Gina: What was that sound?
Me: I DON'T KNOW!
Gina: How can you not know?
Me: I HAVE NO IDEA! I SWEAR! I AM SO SORRY!

Then Gina's mom came out of her room.

Gina's Mom: What happened? Is everyone all right?
Gina: I don't know, mom.
Me: MA'AM! I AM SO SORRY! I-I-I don't know what happened!
Gina's Mom: Mariel, calm down. It's okay.
Me: NO! NO! NO! What ever I broke, I will pay for it! I promise! Please don't be mad!
Gina's Mom: Mariel, calm down. What did you break?
Me: I DON'T KNOW!
Gina: Well, it sounded like something definitely broke.
Me: I'M SORRY!
Gina's Mom: It's okay. Let's look around.

I felt awful. You have no idea. AWFUL. I couldn't believe it; first time they open their doors for a crazy girl to sleep in their house, and the crazy girl breaks their stuff. FAAAAAAAANTASTIC!

I obviously didn't move an inch. I was stumped. Shocked. Embarrassed.

We looked around the entire corridor, and nothing. Every jar and ceramic piece was there.
But what about the sound? And what about the pieces behind me? There were broken pieces of... of... of something, just a few inches behind my feet.

Gina's Mom: Everything seems to be fine.
Gina: Yeah, but what is that?

Gina pointed towards the pieces behind me.

Gina: Where did that come from?

It wasn't until I saw Gina's mom confused expression that it occurred me to look to where she was staring: the roof.

THERE WAS A HOLE IN THE ROOF! A FREAKING HOLE IN THE FREAKING ROOF!

Gina's Mom: OH MY GOD! Thank the Lord you're fine!

She hurried to hug me. I had no idea what just had happened.

Gina's Mom: I am SO sorry! We had some construction workers doing a job on the roof and they must have left this part unstable. Can you imagine what would have happened if it had fallen on your head?

And then it hit me (hahaha, lol, I just made a pun).

Sorry.

Hypothetically hit me: if I had been standing just a few inches behind, the cement would have cracked my head. And that would have been it; I would have most probably died or be left pretty stupid.

So, yes, THANK THE LORD I was fine. Just shocked, confused, still embarrassed for waking people up, and thinking about how short life was... but other than that, fine.

I can only say that I was very lucky that time, and that I thank God for making me walk the way I did that night.

Only thing is, I have never been invited to stay over at Gina's parents' house again.

MysteryGuitarMan wrote to ME!

2011-08-12T11:35:00.001-05:00

Yes... I couldn't believe it either, especially since it was TWO YEARS AGO and I just noticed!

I feel so stupid! WHY didn't I see that inbox!? WHY!?!?

Regardless, I feel pretty cool and somehow important! Hahahaha! I know it's stupid, but it's a WIN for me; I am a huge fan of MysteryGuitarMan, and I love his work. And for him to have noticed my Youtube channel back then, it's kind of cool, right?

Anyways, sorry for not posting anything else right now, but I got tons of work! I did, however (if you checked my vlogs on youtube) got my money back! YEEEEEEY!

For those who don't know, last Saturday I got robbed. Some guy cloned my debit card and stole 3,000 pesos (about 300 dls). So, I had no money, no gas, no food... NOTHING! AND I had to pay rent and bills.
Originally, the bank said that they had to file my report and with all the paperwork they would give me an answer 'til August 23rd, but I got a message today that the case had been closed. So I went to the bank and WIN! It was a favorable response and I got all my money back! WHEEEEW!

I am sooooo happy right now! MysteryGuitarMan AND my money back! THANK YOU GOD!

I guess that's it for today. I hope to have another post up during the weekend.

Thank you guys for all of your support! Have an awesome day and may the force be with you!
Bless you!

UPDATE: MysteryGuitarMan DID write back! He is awesome! He sent me a message via Twitter:

Zombie cat! (and update)

2011-08-07T01:26:00.001-05:00

I am not kidding! There was a zombie cat outside my house! I saw it just now!

Imagine a little white kitten, now put some dirt on it; now give it rabies; now make a zombie bite it and make it lose a couple of its skin and flesh... now put in some red eyes; and finally, add a creeper face.
There you go! You now have a brief description of Zombie cat.

I tried taking a picture and/or video, but it was too fast and got away every single time (sorry gremlins).
But you can imagine my surprise, at 12:20am, hearing weird noises coming from outside. And I had just been told by my neighbors that there have been a couple of break-ins at the neighborhood.

So first, I turned on the lights. The noise continued. I approached the window, opened the curtain, and nothing. I go back to my seat and continue watching some videos on youtube, and then I hear the noise again, like if someone was moving some paper bags or something.
I immediately grew a pair (forgive my french, but I thought my roommate was asleep and I'd had to become a big strong man to protect our house) and decided to open the window making a loud noise as if to say "I can see you, possible thief! Get out of my property or I'll grow a gun in my hand too!".
And surprise surprise, two cats jump out of our garbage can: a familiar orange cat I nicknamed "el gatito buena onda" (the groovy cat) 'cause he used to sleep on my car's roof and I would always find cigarettes (my roommates' of course), so we started joking around that the cat liked to smoke before he went to bed on the roof; and zombie cat, an ugly, disgusting, creepy little white/gray/flesh ball of fur with murderous red eyes and a purple collar.

Groovy cat escaped with haste, but Zombie cat... he just stood there, looking at me with those red eyes. He stood there for like a minute or so, and then WALKED away; no rush, no haste... nothing! Just walked away...

A few minutes passed and I heard the noise again, so I walked to the window again, and there he was... standing, even CLOSER to the window. Just looking at me, gazing his way into my eyes............CREEPY!
By now, my roommate comes out of his room and asks me what I'm doing. I point out to the zombie cat, and he's like "damn! he's ugly and creepy!" and I'm like "yeah... I think it's a zombie cat".

He opens the door and scares it away. But Zombie cat keeps coming back. So I begin to talk about it on my facebook and twitter, and my friends are like "take a pic or it never happened".

So now it's 1:30am and I still haven't been able to take its picture. Anyways, if I never get the chance to take its picture, just trust me, okay gremlins?
I may or may not try to draw Zombie cat; if I draw a respectively good picture, then I'll definitely put it up... If not, well, then you'll just have to read the previous description from above and imagine that poor kitten.

Anyways, have a good night (or morning, if you don't have ADHD and can sleep early)! Be awesome! And God bless!

UPDATE: Zombie cat is now dead! My neighbor next door found him dying outside of her house, and then it eventually died.
R.I.P. for ever Zombie cat. Please don't come back to life! Stay dead! Not that I hated you, but you were creepy, and evil looking, and a zombie... so... yeah...

I'm clumsy!

2011-08-05T21:55:00.000-05:00

Gremlins, I have a serious problem... I was taking a shower today and I realized I had lots and lots of bruises, and I couldn't remember how I got them.
I mean, I know I hit myself everyday with something, but this is just bad!

I remember when I was a kid my mom used to count all the bruises I had on my legs to let me know I was playing too rough, and that I had to behave more girly; sometimes, we would count between 20 and 30 bruises on each leg!

I suppose my childhood was harder on my mom than on me; I remembered I had lots of fun, but I also remembered that I got grounded a lot.
Since I'm a geek girl (and have always been) I used to hang out more with boys than with girls (and I still do), meaning I would also play sports with boys like soccer, basketball and even football, instead of playing with Barbies and other dolls with girls my own age.

And, to make my mother's life even more difficult, I had ADHD. I guess that's why my parents decided to put my brothers and I in different sports all day: tennis, swimming, golf, karate, soccer... you name it, I've played it. And since that didn't tire her little girl down, she also had to put me in art classes, ballet, jazz and other dancing classes. But it still didn't work; I would get home, get all my homework done and still have enough energy to play Nintendo for hours.

Yes. My mom's life must've been very very difficult with me around. Sorry mom!

As a result of my constant lack of sleepiness, I have become somewhat... clumsy. I always, ALWAYS hit myself with tables, chairs, beds and the occasional wall. My eyesight is perfect (I got an eye surgery two years ago) but I can't seem to measure the distance between the wall and me.

And not only that, but I always drop, break, burn or flood stuff.

When I was about 17 years old and was living with my grandmother, we (my older brother, a cousin and I) burned one of her tables. BY ACCIDENT! Don't get mad audience! Here me out: we were going to make a barbecue and we bought this easy, small portable barbecue grill that came with it's charcoal and fire and metal stuff; in other words, you opened it, start it up and began cooking the meat.
It looked like a great idea for a couple of teenagers, so we just grabbed a small table to put it on and took it outside so we wouldn't leave the house smelling like smoke ('cause she lived in an apartment). Smart idea so far, right? We wouldn't stench the house, we wouldn't use any of her cooking accessories, and she would never find out (because she had left on a trip).
But our stupid teenager minds did not think of the following:

Yes... we set the table on fire. BUT, we bought her a new one... So... don't get mad!

There was another time, when I was already in college, that my grandmother called me to help her out because she was going to move to the apartment below. I lived 40 minutes away, so I took a bus and got there as quick as I could.
My parents were already there (on vacation) and so were my brothers. Remember how I wrote about me not being able to handle boxes? Well, my family noticed and gave me other stuff to help out with.
One of those things was a basket filled with glass jars and vases. By this time in my life, I knew I was clumsy.

Me: Mom... Can I help with other stuff?
Mom: Why?
Me: Because I'm going to break these.
Mom: No, you're not.
Me: Oh, yes I am.
Mom: Don't be silly, just be careful where you step and it will be alright.
Me: Mom, you don't understand: I drop things really easily, even if I'm cautious. It's like a spell!
Mom: Honey, don't be ridiculous. Go and help your grandma with the basket.
Me: But mooooom, I don't wanna.
Mom: It's either that or boxes. Your pick.
Me: ...
Mom: Well?
Me: But I'm going to break them and grandma is going to get piiiiiiissseeeed!
Mom: Don't say that!
Me: Sorry, but it's true!
Mom: Honey, you'll be fine. I trust you.

She shouldn't have. I would have to travel, with a basket, filled with tons and tons of glass vases, down the stairs.

It took me nearly 10 minutes to walk down the stairs. My brothers would pass right beside me over and over again, carrying boxes, while I was stuck with a stupid basket, filled with glass vases and jars. But I was too scared, almost sure that I was going to fall and break everything, so I decided to take my time: tiny baby steps, one at a time.

Just as I reached the floor, I congratulated myself for not breaking anything. I was so happy, I actually began to think my mother was finally right; all her hopes and dreams about me being careful had finally come true. But as soon as I came close to the door... whoopsy-daisy!

I tripped over the door's step! A tiny door step! WHY WOULD A DOOR HAVE A FREAKING STEP!? All the jars fell to the floor, and grandma did get pissed.
See Mom? You should've listened to your daughter! But noooo, you had to go on believing in me, thinking I was capable of handling the glass jars. Oh mom... I love you for thinking I can do great things.

Anyways, just as I am writing this, I burned my breakfast. I forgot my toaster's timer doesn't work and it keeps toasting for ever and ever until you stop it. There goes my toast bread.
And this isn't the first time; when I was in middle school I almost burned my house down: I wanted to make myself a pizza, so I put it in the microwave and hit 30:00 minutes instead of 3:00.

Yellow smoke was what alarmed me (surprisingly not the smell), and I ran towards the kitchen, opened the microwave, burned my tiny hands and put all the crisped mass into the sink.
How have I managed to stay alive all these years? I have no clue. But I have to thank God for that; He's just awesome for letting me live!

Want to read another one? It's also about my grandma! (I'm amazed to see how she still manages to love me).
A couple of months ago, I went to visit her and my cousins (who also live with her and my older brother). Hours passed and everyone fell asleep, but not me (ADHD). So, I decided to take a long, hot shower to get my body all relaxed and ready to sleep.
I was in the shower for about 20 minutes or so, and when I shut the water off and opened the door... MADNESS! There was water all over the bathroom!

The thing about her bathroom is that it has two floor drains: one in the shower and one in the outside floor of the shower. They are both connected. And for some strange reason, the water went from the shower's drain into the outside floor's drain.

I quickly put some clothes on and opened the bathroom's door to go get a mop. And then, surprise surprise! There was even MORE water, all over the apartment's floor! And everybody was asleep!

It took me nearly two and a half hours to clean everything without waking people up. I was like a freaking ninja, a mopping ninja.

But, yeah. I have no idea why this happens all the time. My mom says it's because I don't pay enough attention to what I'm doing, but I blame my ADHD. It just has to be it, right?

Bachelorette parties and Terraria

2011-07-31T20:42:00.001-05:00

I was talking to some of my friends who are getting married or already are, and they were talking about how much fun they had during their bachelorette parties, which I honestly don't have any idea why they have them. I mean, you aren't going to die or anything, you're not moving away (if you are, then fine, but just call it a "farewell party" or something), and you are definitely not going to stop seeing your friends and family.

Anyways, whilst we were (woohoo for alliteration... is it? I forget...) talking about their parties, they asked me:

Friend: Omigosh! Did you have fun?
Me: (awkward)..... Uhm.... Sure.
Friend: What did you like the most?
Me: (even more awkward) Uhm.... everything?
Friend: (sparkly eyes) I'm so glad! Because I just loved it! Specially the wrap the bride with toiler paper! The dresses where so original!

Can you tell I was bored out of my mind? No? Well, I was. I'm not saying that it wasn't nice or pretty, I'm just saying it's not exactly MY kind of fun.
MY kind of fun involves video games, or comics, or movies, or a combination, or all of them.

Now, to the guys who read this blog, you are about to learn what goes on in bachelorette parties.

For starters, there are two kinds of bachelorette parties: the "good" one and the "bad" one.

THE GOOD ONE:

A lot of women (all ages) get together to talk, drink and eat. Usually there will be large tables for groups of 10 women to sit together (even if they don't know each other) to talk and work together as a team during the bridal games.
Bridal games usually are:
1) Dress the bride with toilet paper.
2) Play bridal bingo, with images with sexist stuff like "broom", "dish washer", "baby", "cook", "oven", "meal", "soap", "mop" and all the rest of things that women are supposed to do, work with or take care of.
3) Match the words, where you're supposed to match the alike words together (also, sexist stuff, like "foot-massage", "cook-his-dinner", "wash-the-dishes", but I never see any "tell-your-husband-to-get-out-of-the-couch-and-help-you-clean" sentence, because apparently we are still in the mid 30's and women aren't allowed to work).
4) Write a cooking recipe for the future bride-to-be (and I only know one, so I always stick to that one).

The games aren't that bad really. What I really hate is the small-talk you are forced to have with complete strangers.

Good thing I have a smart phone. I can be on Facebook or Twitter or Safari. If I didn't, I'd be lost. Completely lost.

Another thing the "good" bachelorette parties have is music. Music I usually don't know the lyrics to or can't dance to (that's actually my fault... I'm not such a good dancer. Every time I try to dance, I look like Johnny Bravo).

Crappy games, I can take. Small-talk, I can deal with it.
But there is nothing worse than complete strangers forcing you to play "naughty games".

THE BAD ONE:

I am not sexy nor wild or any of the sort; I don't go to bars or discos, I don't drink, I don't smoke. Fun for me is staying at home playing a video game or renting a movie. That's the perfect win for me.
So when it comes to flirting or any sex thing, I'm stumped.

The "bad" bachelorette parties usually have a stripper (a very bad looking one too... they aren't like the ones you see on TV or movies), or sex games (using fruit and rubber stuff, okay? I don't want to explain, my mom reads this).

When those games are about to start, I usually get an emergency call or something (again, thank you smart phone with awesome apps).

HOW IT SHOULD REALLY BE ACCORDING TO ME:

1) For starters, if my friends really wanted a stripper or something, I would make him wear a Clone Trooper outfit. Make it funny, you know? Spice things up so everybody would enjoy it.

2) My kind of games would be "Okay, you have to build a house in Terraria. Find the best materials in the world and make it look really good. But be careful with the zombies 'cause they could kill your NPC's, meaning your husband. Aaaaaaand START!"

3) Music? Easy: GLEE, Michael Bublé, Coldplay, Nightwish, Angela Aki.... or something you really can't dance to, but can enjoy.

4) I wouldn't sit people randomly around. I'd make a list and cards.
"What kind of person are you?"

Make the small-talk easy for everybody, you know?

I think my idea should be used more often: it really sums up all the things women should have and do during a bachelorette party.
No one would be stuck talking with someone they don't like, it would be funny and no way near embarrassing, AND it would be different and awesome!

Chatis: the unusual collector

2011-07-25T23:27:00.000-05:00

Do you remember my tiny half chihuahua half pincher dog? Chatis? Yeap, well this is her:

Well, my dog isn't the smartest nor the most usual dog in the world. I love her with all my heart, but I'm not blind. She has the strangest dog body I've seen, and she keeps hitting her head on the floor every time she jumps. Not. Very. Bright.

From the picture above, we can see all the different parts of her body that aren't quite usual for a dog.

Exhibit "A" shows us her non-chihuahua ears. Even thou she is part chihuahua (by her head that is), her ears never fully lift, but quite the opposite.
In fact, they are the ears of Dobby from Harry Potter:

Picture taken from http://bloghogwarts.com/?attachment_id=817

(It's creepy, I know... But you can see the similarity, right?)

Exhibit "B" shows us a lump on her back. According to the Vet, her column is too long for her body.

(Poor little quasimodo Chatis).
The Vets actually recommended me not to have her "hook-up" with other dogs. They're afraid that her possible puppies might not be "healthy".

Me: "I'm thinking about getting her a boyfriend."
Vet: "No. You don't want to do that."
Me: "Why not?"
Vet: "Well, her spinal column is way too long and crooked."
Me: "But she can still get it going on!"
Vet: "Uhm, yes, well---I-I don't know what kind of dog would be good enough for her."
Me: "Maybe a pincher, or a big chihuahua."
Vet: "Yes, well........... Let me explain things better: even if you get her the most perfect male dog, we can't assure you that the puppies will be okay. She is one of a kind."

"F" you man... She is awesome!

Moving on.

Exhibit "C" shows us her rat tail. It's way too skinny and long. If it weren't covered with hair, I could assure you it was a rats tail. Honestly.

Exhibit "D" highlights her unusually long legs. They are so long, that she has to sit crooked.
Her legs might not be easy on the eyes, but they sure let her jump high enough to steal food from the table. She's like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.

Another thing that lets me know that Chatis isn't entirely a normal dog is that she collects stuff. On her house or bed. She COLLECTS.
Cockroaches, tissues, socks, toilet paper, candy wrapping, food, rugs, towels, shirts, even shoes (and just as I am writing this, she took out some banana peels off the trash and took those to her bed).

If it's in her reach, she will collect it. And height isn't a problem for her; I think she considers it as an obstacle course.

I thought "well, maybe she won't be able to have puppies, but she can win in an obstacle course!" So I took her to a dog show.
We were both very excited. She didn't flinch or anything when I gave her her bath. I even put a little bit of perfume AND a pink bow on her back. She looked gorgeous!
I took the papers and filled the registering form with full haste. Then we went inside and took a sit. They called our names and I got up and carried her with me.

Woman: Mariel Garcia and dog Chatis?
Me: Yeap! That's us!
Woman: (looking at Chatis) And uhm... Exactly what kind of breed is your dog?
Me: Chihua--Pincher!
Woman: I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we can't accept her.
Me: WHY NOT!?
Woman: Because she doesn't look like a pincher.
Me: Did I say pincher? I meant chihuahua.
Woman: No, you said pincher.
Me: I sneezed.
(LONG PAUSE)
Woman: Ma'am, can you please not make this more difficult?
Me: I am not doing anything difficult, and it's "Miss" not "ma'am" please... I'm not your age.
(ANOTHER LONG PAUSE)
Woman: I'm sorry, but as I told you, your dog can't qualify for the competition.
Me: Why... You-You are a racist! A DOG RACIST!
Woman: Miss, that term doesn't even exist.
Me: Yes it DOES! And you're a hater too! She is crippled! Did you know that? Look at her back! LOOK AT HER BACK! SHE CAN'T HAVE BABIES! All she has left is jumping! JUMPING IN AN OBSTACLE COURSE! And YOU want to take that away from her! You MEAN, MEAN WOMAN! How can you be working in a place like this if you clearly hate dogs? Huh? How? HOW!?

And then I was banned from that dog show for life...

No Vet can tell me exactly what kind of dog Chatis is. They look at her and their minds go blank. They love her thou, 'cause she is really really nice: she doesn't act all possessive as other chihuahuas do. But still... My poor little Chatis is weird and not fully accepted in society.

She's crazy too. She's afraid of leaving her house, even if it's for cleaning.

So, between her phobia to leave her house and my OCD, it's a tough match to win.

One time, I saw the entrance of her tiny house filled with stuff. There was no way in, no way out for her. She was stuck inside her house, but she refused to let go of the stuff. Why she does this, I have no idea.

I do have a theory thou: she is part bear.

She is 2/8 chihuahua, 2/8 pincher, 1/8 bear, 1/8 Dobby, 1/8 rat and 1/8 rabbit ('cause she jumps way to high for any sort of dog).

OH MY GOD! I just realized! She is a chimera! ---A somehow dumb chimera, but still.
What do you guys think?

Have you guys ever had any pets like her? She is different, yes. But still, very VERY awesome (even if that woman from the dog show disagrees).

I feel old

2011-07-19T21:00:00.002-05:00

Have you guys ever felt old in your lives? I have. A lot of times. Specially today.

Remember how I told you I have been working since I was a teen so I could pay for my college? Well, one of my many jobs included being an elementary teacher for first and second grade.

I was an English teacher and I taught them Math, Science, English and Reading Comprehension.

I like kids, and I have good English skills so I thought "what the heck! I can totally do this!". Aside from the constant "like this, Miss Mariel?"

or "am I doing it right, Miss Mariel?" or "can I go to the bathroom, Miss Mariel?"

(...) my students were really cool. Every day I would get a drawing with "Yu ar teh bezt ticher Miss Mariel",

(...) or a drawing with one of my students dancing disco music (why? I had no idea since all of them were born after the year 2000, but apparently they had the disco fever going on). I would also get the most cliché thing for a teacher: an apple. I actually got an apple! Wheeew!

Turns out, five years later, some of my students are still adding me on MSN to chat with me. Don't get me wrong, I love that. But sometimes they start talking (well, writing) like "k, omG, lol" and so on. Of course, I'm a gamer and I KNOW about it because I write like that too while playing World of Warcraft, but my students seem to think otherwise.

Student: "omG, im sry xD, u probbly dont know it, but the :) is a smiley face, just tilt ur head and ull c it"
Me: "Of course I know it's a smiley head. Don't worry about it."
Student: "u sure? cuz i can write better if u want. the other teachers don undertsand sometimes"
Me: "Well, that's because they're older."
Student: "how old r u?"
Me: "I'm 24."
Student: "u R old!"
Me: "No, I'm not. Old is like mid 40's or something."
Student: "r u married?"
Me: "No, but what does that have to do with anything?"
Student: "oh, nothin, nvm"

It's GREAT to know that you're ex-students think of you like an old person. And even better when they think you're lonely and single because "you're old and you're not married yet". Just peachy!

But today.TODAY I felt even older than I thought.

My toe nail is getting this really weird color, so I thought I should see a doctor about it. I didn't know any Podiatrist in the town, so I had to ask around.
A friend of a friend recommended one. "She's really good with any feet treatment," they said. I thought, "well, this doctor must have a lot of experience if she is really good in what she does; all those years of medic school and her office is IN a hospital. She MUST be awesome. I must see her at once!" So I called her workplace and she kindly gave me an appointment at 4:20pm.

I asked my mom to come along and we arrived there at 4pm sharp. The office was neat, but it did had that "old doctor's office" look. "She must have years of practice," I thought.
We sat in the reception until our turn was up.

And then... "OH MY GOD, HI!" I turned around and there she was, this tiny pretty girl with a doctor gown on.

Me: "Hey, I know you."
Doctor Kid: "Yes!"
Me: "We were in the same middle school, right?"
Doctor Kid: "Yes, we were!"
Me: "But you're younger than me! You graduated a year after I did."
Doctor Kid: "Yeah!"
Me: "So... you're a doctor now?"
Doctor Kid: "Sure am! Now, come on in! What seems to be troubling you? Is your foot giving you a bad time?"

I went inside her office and, what do you know? She really was a doctor! She had all these diplomas on the wall and tons of papers and statues.

A kid. Younger than me. Was a DOCTOR! MY DOCTOR! I felt so confused and OLD.
And do you know what made me feel even older? She didn't charge me. Anything at all. Not even for the ointment she gave me for my toe nail.

I mean, I guess it's cool when they don't charge you any money, but I kinda felt it was because I was older than her. I know this because I usually don't charge older people for video editing or any designs or photo edits.

I feel old. And strange. And old. Very old.

PS.- On the "old" note, I'm turning 25 this week! So I feel even older because 25 is almost 30!

Anyways, wish me a happy birthday so I'll forget about getting older! Wheeew!

One of the most embarrassing moments in my life

2011-07-15T22:12:00.002-05:00

Ok, so I was reading a few of my very veeeery past emails, and I came across one in particular that made me laugh A LOT.
As you can probably tell by the title, this one is actually pretty fun and I decided to share it with you guys.

I've never been rich and I still aren't. Thing is, I graduated from a really good private university here in Mexico, but in order to pay for it I had to work (I had a good scholarship, but it was still a pretty expensive college).

If you read my older posts, you'll notice I moved away from my parents house when I was 15, but I still came back to town during vacation time. And I liked coming back; being able to sleep in you own bed, having your mom making super awesome breakfast, don't have any worries about paying rent or bills or doing the laundry... It was awesome! I had my own "get-away" vacations every six months. AND I LOVED IT! (I love it so much, that I am actually visiting my parents right now, hehehe).

College was fun, I still miss it sometimes; seeing your friends every day ('cause now everybody works and it makes it harder for us to get together in one place at a certain time), having only homework to worry about, being able to skip class sometimes and not have any trouble... It was fun.
What I DIDN'T like about college was that this college in particular was like living in a fashion runway, and being all fancy and important, the school was FILLED with rich snobby kids who didn't know anything about life and hard work; they took everything for granted, never studied or did their homeworks, always skipping classes and then getting mad at the teachers for flunking them, and always trying to make the average kids' life a living hell.
One of those rich snobby kids was------let's call him BOB. So, BOB, was always trying to show off and was one of the few (before he eventually had to drop out 'cause he was stupid) who tried to make MY life miserable.
I know, I know, it sounds very mean of me to speak like that about him, buuuuut I have my reasons: he really did do everything he could to make my life miserable, including using his media influences... but he FAILED!!! Mwuahahahaaaa!!!! Victory dance for me:
<( '.' )> <( '.'<) <( '.' )> (>'.' )> <( '.' )>

Anyways, college was cool in spite of all the snobby kids, but it was really expensive. So, every time I came back to town to visit my parents, I had to get a job to raise money to pay for the next semester's tuition.
One of my first jobs during college was being a hostess for a fancy restaurant. I was actually aiming to be a waitress, but the manager had a "only man waiter" policy, for no reason whatsoever. Ergo, I was stuck as a hostess.

At first, I didn't think it was bad, I actually thought it was a way better deal: I would receive customers and send them towards their table. DONE. Pay up.
But, as always, I was wrong. Very wrong. Turns out, part of my duties included:
1.- Cleaning tables.

2.- Cleaning the windows (and there were TONS of HUGE windows all around, including the doors which were made of glass).

3.- Taking out the trash.

4.- Cleaning all the menus (including the ones with baby drool).

5.- Take the appetizers to each table, or the food in case all the waiters were busy.
6.- Take care of the bills when the cashier was out.
7.- Give kids their special menu and crayons.
8.- Clean the bathrooms (both men and women), and boooy are people messy!

9.- Help out in the kitchen if they need help.
10.- And smile :)

So, yeah... I had to clean the bathrooms and do the dishes. FUUUUUN, huh?
Anyways, my shift started at 5pm, and I had to wear black suit pants, heals and a shirt that was too big for me 'cause they didn't have any of my size. In other words, a Large Male shirt. ORANGE. The manager said they would bring me a new shirt tomorrow, but I had to wear this one for now. I looked ridiculous. Ugly. Fat but tiny at the same time. It was awful.

The first couple of hours were pretty smooth, only old people would come to have some coffee and cake or pie ('cause the cake is a lie, of course). But as soon as it hit 8pm, it was CRAZY. The restaurant was full and people would still be coming, waiting in line for their table.
Babies were puking, kids would keep smudging the windows, people would spill their drinks, and others would scream angrily because their table wasn't ready.

The end of my shift was something I was looking for eagerly. The clock was just a couple of minutes before 1am. The last duties for me where to sweep and mop the floor, so I quickly got to it.

And then........... DUN DUN DUN!!! Who do you think walks through the door? Come on, try to guess. Come on. I know you can do it. Give up? Ready? Yes. It was the one and only BOB! BOB was visiting MY TOWN (my lovely and peaceful town) with a couple of his friends, and now they wanted to hit the bar at the restaurant.

Can you imagine my surprise? Picture this: you have been working really hard all day, in spite of all the people who were making it real hard for you, cleaning bathrooms (that's the pee of other people you don't even know), moping vomit from the floor, wearing a ridiculously huge orange shirt, with a messy hair bun, and looking forward to head to the safety of your home to take a long bath and then sleeping warm in your bed. Now, have all of that taken away from you and being punched in the face by a gorilla with shark teeth and sunglasses, wearing a pale pink polo shirt with the neck up, and his hair looking like a mango chupado.

(Mango chupado is a term my clever mom invented to try to explain the spiky-metro-upward hairdo men sometimes use... I guess you can translate it into sucked mango, it looks something like this:)

Here's a picture 'cause I really can't draw a sucked mango:

Picture from "Edible Tropicals" Blog
http://www.edibletropicals.com/2011/06/how-to-grow-mangoes-from-seed.html

Well, in any case, the feeling I got was worse than having someone deleting your save game just before you kill the final boss. I would know. I've been there.

I quickly tried to make myself disappear. But my boss was all like "why are you hiding in the VIP room? Go and get those people a table at the bar". How could he be so mean? So heartless! He didn't know! He couldn't understand! If BOB saw me like that, he would win the battle (but not the war thou, I don't go down that easily). And I like winning, well, LOVE winning, and I couldn't give this battle to BOB! So I quickly ninjad myself to the ladies bathroom and gave myself a little help by brushing my hair and my sweat off.
I came back, and they were still there. But now there was a spilled drink in the floor.

"Here, they told me to bring it to you so you could clean the floor. Sorry," a waiter said as he handed me a mop. And BOB was looking. Standing right there. Looking at myself with a mop, and a huge orange male shirt. FAILURE.

But then I thought, "alright, if I am going down, I will do it with glory and dignity". I took the mop and started moping. And I rocked it! I moped so awesome, sparkles began to show (hypothetically, but you get the idea).

I quickly finished and headed towards BOB and his snobby gorilla friends.

Me: "Hi, welcome to NAME I AM NOT GOING TO SAY restaurant. Table for how many?" I really should have ended that sentence with chimpanzees, but I was still on the clock.
BOB: "Six, please."
Me: "Alrighty then, this way please. Follow me." Yeah, you do that. FOLLOW ME. 'Cause you're so stupid you'll probably get lost in the way.
BOB: "Hey, I know you, you study in my school right?" YOUR school? I didn't know you freaking owned it. And great job pretending you don't know me.
Me: "Yes, I do."
BOB: "But you live here?" Uhm, unless I have a twin sister, I guess I do. DUH!
Me: "Yes, I live here. And why are you visiting us?" Yeah, what the 'F' are you doing here?
BOB: "Oh, well, WE got invited to join the Government speech group, and WE also got to attend a couple of conferences and see the inauguration of a new building, blah blah blah, I'm important and you're not, blah blah blah."
Me: "Wow, that sure sounds important." NOT.
BOB: "It IS! I am SO lucky to be apart of this. OH! I'm soooorry, I guess working here must be pretty darn cool too, huh? Aaaaaanyway, see you later."
Me: "Yeah, enjoy your drinks." They will be poisoned, just so you know.

I quickly left them and then BOB whispered something to his friends and they all began to laugh. Awesome.

And then my shift ended and I hated my job even more. Hahaha!!! Sorry, but I really disliked it 'cause of all the "clean the bathrooms" thing... I have freaking OCD. It ain't a walk in the beach.

But yeah, that was pretty awkward and embarrassing and silly.

Why I hate the smurfs and creepy tales

2011-07-10T01:23:00.000-05:00

I hate the smurfs. I'm sorry (no, I'm not). I really am (no, I'm really not). But I HATE the smurfs. Period.

It wasn't like this before. I used to watch their cartoons when I was younger, and I actually remembered that I liked it---heck, I even knew the song (la la la la la laaaaa, laaaa la la la laaaaaa, la la la la la laaaaaaa, laaaa la la la laaaaaaa). But not anymore more. Oh no. Nowadays, I won't even watch the trailer for the 3D movie that was made.

But there is a very, VERY reasonable explanation why I hate the smurfs: older kids ruined them for me.

When I was a kid (like 8 years old) I went to one of my older brother's classroom's Halloween party. Let me say that each year, they would always get together, dress up, and play all sort of things.

As the clingy little sister I was (and sort of still am), I had always dreamed about going to one of their parties. I wanted to be just like them: cool and awesome and older... 'cause back then, being older was the coolest thing ever.

Level of coolness:
1) Know how to dance.
2) Have an awesome scar.
3) Can pull wearing shades without looking like a douche.
4) People make way when you walk.
5) Never look at explosions.

Big kids were a "level 5". I looked up to them, I wanted to be included too, but my older brother NEVER invited me.

But this year, THIS YEAR, was going to be different. All of the parents decided to contribute to the party by organizing food, beverages, games and competitions.
My mom (awesome as she still is) obviously became one of the leader parents and came up with a lot of cool things for the party. Since my mom was a head in this new organization, WE (my little brother and I) were for the first time included ('cause my dad worked all day and we didn't have a nanny, so my mom was actually stuck with us). And not only that, oh no. I was also included as part of the show! I was the fortune-teller's assistant.

The game consisted in my mom dressing up as a fortune-teller, and letting each kid come inside our tent and she would take their hands and "predict" their future. I would do something stupid like hand over some cards to my mom, but I was reaaaally into it: I was finally a part of the coolest big kids' party ever!
My mom's game was the most successful one at the party 'cause she was right EVERY time! You know how some kids try to hide their feelings for each other? And how it is just stupid because EVERYBODY CAN TELL! (kids don't know how to hide their crushes... especially in elementary). And parents, well, it's not that hard for them to tell that his/her daughter/son has a crush on someone.

My mom picked up on almost every kid's crush (as all the rest of the parents do). So when she was "predicting", she was actually telling them what she knew. Every single kid was like "WOW!!! How do YOU KNOW!?!?!" Easy: MAGIC (and being smart enough to tell when a kid has a crush or not).

Anyways, after that game ended (that is, after each 10 year old proved their crushes right to my mom), we were going to take a break.

My mom went along to have her girl-talk with the rest of the moms there. But I had other plans. Now that the big kids new that I was cool (for being a "legit" fortune-teller's assistant, that is), I was sure they would now include me in their stuff.
I headed towards a girl that I knew pretty well because she hanged out with my brother a lot, and I asked her what she was doing. She said she was getting some chips for the group that was inside of the house. She IMMEDIATELY invited me to join them (that's a WIN, a "I'm finally as cool as the big kids" win). So I did.

We went inside, and they were all sitting in a circle. I sat next to her, unaware of why they were sitting like that.

"Ok, I wanna go first!" another girl said. "Once upon a time, there was a kid that had a dog. That dog slept in his room's floor every night. Every time the kid had a bad dream, he would put his hand down the bed and his dog would lick it. That made the kid feel safe.

Every night, he would start having bad dreams, but his dog would always lick his hand. One night, he had the craziest dream and he put his hand down. It got licked. Then he had another nightmare. He put his hand down, and again it was licked. And this went on for three hours. Until he felt little drops on his forehead. He put his hand down again, and it was licked. But the drops still fell on his forehead. He turned on the light, and looked up, trying to discover the source of the liquid on his forehead. He then saw his dog, tied around the ceiling's fan, DEAD!!! And his blood was pouring down on the kid's bed. The kid screamed in horror, as he wondered WHAT had been licking his hand all this time. THE END!!!"

Scary stories... Scary FREAKING stories were being told!!! And I was the worst person to listen to scary tales. I still can't watch horror movies, and I'm 24 years old!!! Imagine me, a little 8 year old, listening to scary stories, about kids in bed, hands being licked, and a dead dog on the ceiling's fan!!! I HAD A DOG TOO!!!!!!!!

I wanted to get out of there, but I had finally become "cool". I had finally become a part of the big kids' group, and I wasn't going to let my scariness ruin it. So I took a deep breath and stayed there.

The next story was up.

"There was this little kid, Timmy, who really loved the smurfs. He had tons of toys, a big plushie, and even blue curtains with the smurfs playing around. He would always play with his imaginary smurf friends. He would even take food into his room and say that it was for his friends. His parents didn't like this too much. They were scared that he would become obsessed and all crazy about them. So, one night, just before he went to sleep, they asked him to stop playing with his imaginary friends. They asked him to 'grow-up' and start thinking about other big kid things, like soccer and football. The kid was sad, and a little upset. But he loved his parents so much, that he said he would do it... he would act more like a big kid, starting from tomorrow.
The parents went to bed happy, feeling victorious and safe about their son. It wasn't until the next morning when little Timmy didn't show up for breakfast, that they sensed something was wrong. They went upstairs to his room, they opened the door and turned on the light. And there was little Timmy, dead, sewed to the blue curtains, only now, there weren't any smurfs in it... THE END!!!"

Let me just say, that THAT was the scariest story I had ever heard (it's been stuck in my head all these years, so yeah, you can pretty much say it marked me for life).

I also had curtains (with flowers, but still). What if that happened to me too? I looked around and everybody was laughing; just two or three other kids were as afraid as I was. I was so traumatized. I couldn't get the image of the kid sewed to the curtains off my head.

And guess what? ANOTHER story was up! Being with the big kids had taken away my mental health. I got up, and decided that it wasn't worth it. I rather be a looser than having constant nightmares with deadly handcrafting smurfs.

I got up, my brother looked at me and said: "What's wrong? Are we leaving already?"
"No," I said. "I think my break is over. I have to get back to help the fortune-teller."

I went outside with the grown-ups, and I ran into my tent of safety.

I've always thought about those scary kid stories. As hard as I try, I can never let go of them. I still won't put my hands down my bed. I'm scared. I'm scared that a demon or something is going to lick my hands and then kill me or my dog.
And the worst part is I KNOW that there is no such thing as a hand-licking, under bed, dog murderer demon, but I'm still scared.

Moral of the story: DON'T HANG OUT WITH OLDER KIDS!

My tiny pet gecko

2011-07-05T00:21:00.000-05:00

Most of you don't know I also have an older brother. We made our lives miserable when we were kids. Turns out we get along awesome these days (now that we both moved out of my parent's house actually... it must have made grown-ups out of us).

When I was in high school, I used to live with my grandmother because my school was in a different city from which my parents live (so, yes, technically I moved out since I was 15). Aside from her constant smoking, living with my grandma was a pretty sweet deal: I had my own room with my own tv, and I also had my own bathroom (I just had to clean it for myself thou).
One day, I found a tiny baby lizard (actually gecko, but I like how "lizard" sounds like) on my shower's floor. Forgive me, but when I was a little kid I used to watch "Henry's Amazing Animals" and I looooved Henry (a gecko and protagonist of the show):

So what did I do? I decided to adopt the lizard AND call him Henry.

Henry and I were very close friends (he used to shower with me, so yeah... preeeetty close). And our friendship lasted for almost two months. He never once came outside of the shower... he liked it there, it was his home. And I never dared to deprive him from that.

It wasn't long before my older brother decided to move in with us because he was going to start college. Now we had to share the bathroom. But I never bothered to tell him about my relationship with Henry because I knew he wouldn't understand.

So far, Henry was the smartest most amazing gecko friend I could have. He never got in my way, never asked for food, never made a mess or anything. And he knew how to be a ninja: he never came out to play with my brother, just with me.

It wasn't until a few weeks just after my brother moved in that he walked in my room and said those dreadful words I will never forget:

Brother: "Hey, I saw a lizard in your shower. Just killed it for you. So don't worry."
Me: "HENRY?!?!"
Brother: "What?"
Me: "HENRY?!?! YOU KILLED HENRY?!?!"
Brother: "Who's Henry?"
Me: "My pet lizard!!!"
Brother: "You mean you kept him as a pet? That's disgusting!"
Me: "Shut up!!! Where is he? WHERE IS HENRY?"
Brother: "I flushed it down the toilet! You are so weird."

I hurried towards the toilet, but it was too late... Henry was gone... My best-tiny-gecko friend was long gone.

I hated my brother for what he did, and I was tormented by the picture of Henry's corpse being eaten by crocodiles (yes, I still believed there were crocodiles in the sewer).

But there was nothing I could do, only mourn my friend's death.

Everytime I was going to play Gaia Online, I would remember him. Everytime I felt like singing in the shower, I didn't because there was nobody who could look up to me with big-lizard-confused eyes. My life was empty now that my friend was brutally murdered and then disposed of so easily and without care.

I decided to face my brother and give him a peace of my mind. I told him about how I felt, and that he was an awful person for killing such an innocent little creature. And then he made his point.
(OH! I forgot to tell you he's a doctor.)
He began explaining all the possible germs Henry carried with himself, especially from leaving IN a shower. And being the obsessive clean freak I am, I decided to leave it like that. I wouldn't want evil germ thoughts to replace Henry's dead corpse thoughts.
Things were clear now. Henry was now my scape-goat: he had sacrificed himself in order for me to leave in a clean environment. And I wasn't going to make justice for his honorable sacrifice, because he wouldn't want that; he would want me to leave in a clean place, right? He loved me, and he would only want the very best thing for me. And that was for me to be germ-free!
He was now a hero, and I would pay tribute to his memory by leaving his memory rest in peace.

Weird dreams: Part 3 - "Star Wars and another I don't know how to call it"

2011-06-29T15:08:00.002-05:00

Ok, last night I dreamt that I auditioned for a character in a new Star Wars video game... And I got it! The character's name was Kitty and she has a Russian accent. My costume was awesome and so was the paint and make-up! Wheeeeeeww!!!!

So it was a really cool dream... but not all my dreams are like that. I had another dream that, first of all, let me just say that the dream was really weird not only for what I'm about to tell and describe, but because I was like Ranma 1/2 (I was a man at the beginning of the dream, and then a woman at the end). Also, if you aren't really good with blood and stuff, then you probably shouldn't read it... AT ALL!!! (and for the same reason I'm not going to draw anything today... sorry!!!)

So, I (as a man) was in a whole underground, one of those tunnels that go all the way from a safehouse to another place and so on.
I was crawling my way to somewhere, and I see a frame that's hung on one of the walls (HOW on earth do you hang a frame on soil? no idea, but it was there). I take it down, and open it, and I find a map hidden in the inside.

I go back and crawl back to surface, and I head towards a restaurant that was in the desert. Apparently, THAT was our "secret hide-out" (also, apparently we were part of a kind of Colombian FBI or something). So I head towards the backroom (you know, where the high shots are usually playing cards or something), and there's my boss and his wing man. I give them the frame and map, and turns out the map had the secret location for all the crops of the bad guys.
We also find a watch on one of the corners of the frame, so my boss takes it and gives it to me. He tells me to try it on to see how it looks (yeah, REAL smart! wear the evidence of an important case JUST to see how it frikin' looks on you), but he was my boss, so I went along (and I'm a woman now).

Then, as we are talking about deciding where to start with the map, a music (and kinda gay music too) begins to play on the watch (like if it was your phone's alarm or something), and I try to make it stop, but it won't.

And then... it hit us... IT WAS A TRACKING DEVICE!!!! DUN DUN DUUUUUN!!!!!
So I take it off very quickly and throw it away, as we head towards the front of the restaurant, asking all the guards if they've seen anyone lurking around. And then, LOTS AND LOTS OF MEN jump through the windows and start punching people (our FBI people) around.
Then they start checking for the mark of the watch on people's wrists (apparently they have super senses to see who wore the watch).
They grab a woman standing beside me, and they go like "oh, THIS is her! she wore it!". And then I go like "NO! Leave her alone! It was ME!!! I wore it!!!" (always trying to be a hero).

So they throw her away and then grab me. They hold my wrist and put it on a table. Then I see a guy with a butcher knife heading towards me, and I think "this is it... I am soooo dead".
So they hold me down, while making my hand still on the table. The guy with the butcher knife finally comes up and says something stupid and cliché like "prepare to die" or something like that.
And......... HE CUTS MY HAND OFF!!!! HE FRIKIN' CUTS MY HAND OFF!!!! I'm in pain, and crying, and screaming, and then I realize he didn't do his freaking job right!!! My hand was still partially clinging on!!!!! THE PAAAAIN!!!! So, by now, I am just asking him to finish the job, to cut it right, and he starts chopping it off like when you slice a tomato, that you swing the knife back and forth... but this wasn't a tomato... IT WAS MY HAAAAND!!!!
He FINALLY finishes, and all the blood starts coming out, spraying people around like a bad japanese movie. So now I'm asking for mercy: cauterize my arm, PLEAAASE!!!!

And then I woke up... Fun dream, huh? ;(

Weird dreams: Part 2 - "Zombies, babies in boxes, Walmart, Dragon Ball"

2011-06-24T19:35:00.000-05:00

Most of my weird dreams involve zombies... No idea why. And this one is no exception.

I dreamed that a zombie had bitten my leg, but before my life would come to it's inevitable death and I would reanimate as a zombie, I had a quest to finish (too much Final Fantasy...): I would have to work alongside with another girl who had also been bitten, to try to save some babies that they had left behind in Walmart (nooooo idea why, but we just had to save 'em before we turned into zombies).

So we began our journey into the streets filled with zombies.

For no apparent reason, Walmart had NOT been overflowed with zombies and people were still inside, but the only way in was through the roof. So my new friend and I began to climb the metal stairs, and when we reached the top we cut them loose (with what because they were made of metal? No idea...) so the zombies wouldn't be able to follow.

We went inside, and people were just chilling, shopping, relaxing, like nothing had happened "Apocalypse? What? No! Yo' crazy girl!!!". So we began to walk "normal", like we weren't already bitten by zombies and were just about to turn on them to eat their flesh. And then one of the "How may I help you?" vest guys came up to us and we were like "we're fiiiiine... just looking, 'kay? THANKS!".
We turned around and head towards were they told us the babies would be at: the REFRIGERATORS!

NOW is the time where you just KNOW something is WRONG with my head... Why would there be babies hidden in the Walmart refrigerators during a zombie apocalypse? I have no freaking idea... My mind... It's crazy.... PERIOD.

So, anyways, we head towards the frozen entries, and we spot a suspicious box inside one of the refrigerators. We open the door and then the box and.... DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!!!!!! It's empty!!! It is freaking EMPTY!!! They lied to us!!!!!!!

*the butterfly represents sanity...

And then we lose control and we start attacking people 'cause we just turned into zombies and...

INTRO OF DARKNESS!!!!

My dream stops and then another one begins.

I respawn (still bitten, but not yet turned into one of 'em) but I am outside of Banamex (a bank). Turns out that Banamex was in fact the zombie's headquarters, and a friend of mine says that I should go inside and kill all the zombies and then destroy their base. Why me you ask? Because I had already been bitten and, according to his logic, they wouldn't attack me because I would eventually turn into one of them, and I had already began to smell like them (like that tv show "The Walking Dead", that they would use zombie blood and organs to cover themselves up and smell like 'em so they would be confused and not want to eat them? Yeah, that way!). So he reassured me that I was going to be fine, that I shouldn't worry about being attacked (just worry about turning to a zombie, thou).

Still, I am not convinced and I argue "I can't kill all the zombies!!! It's not like a video game!!! And I don't even have guns!!! What if they all gang bang on me? Huh? What will I do then? HUH?!?!?" and he says (you guys are gonna loooove this part): "That's easy! The best way to attack them is by singing the Dragon Ball theme song. Do you know it?" and then he starts humming the song. Crazy.

So, by no apparent reason, THAT convinces me that I will be fine, and I go inside and start singing the Dragon Ball theme song... And what do know? It works... It freaking works. No zombie attack whatsoever!!!

And then I woke up.

THE END!!!

My mind... it's crazy

2011-06-20T18:40:00.000-05:00

Be advised. People who are not "PG-13" or people who are sensitive or easily offended should probably not read this... 'Kay? Good!

I am a weird person. My mind does not work as it should... I have a few good arguments to prove my point:

1) I always think about the worst possible outcome of things, or bad stuff happening to people, honestly. For example, every time I'm driving and I see a person riding a bike close to my car, I think about what would happen if I opened my door... ALWAYS. But I never do it ('cause I know it would probably physically hurt the person).

I've talked to my friends and apparently they NEVER think about that (yeah, right); it's just me... crazy ol' me.

I'm not a bad person (or at least I don't think about myself that way), because I never do the things that my evil mind tells me to do----well, there was this ONE time when I did: a couple of people were leaning on a friend's car, and I had his keys, so I pressed the "PANIC" button and the alarm went off and the people jumped in surprise and confusion, and I went like "oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know what that button did!" and I gave my friend his keys back.... Does that make me a bad person? Because I thought it was hilarious!!!!!!

2) I have a little bit of road-rage... I always say weird things to the other not-so-smart-because-you-don't-know-what-the-green-light-means-car-drivers stuff like "YOU SUCK! And you know what you suck? Dick. That's what you suck. You suck dick. And you enjoy it. And you're not even gay, so that's making you feel weird and confused right now." (No offense to the gay community. I don't mean it like that... It's just funny for me to say it to awful drivers... We cool?............ AWESOME!!! HIGH FIVE!!!).
Is that bad? In my defense, they can't hear me. When I have a misunderstanding with people, I never EVER say anything to them, 'cause I'm a good person and I don't want to hurt their feelings. But still, I'm really worried that my mind is not working the way it's supposed to work.

3) I talk to myself, OUT LOUD, wherever I am. Be it in my office, my house, my car, parties, in the super market... I don't care. But apparently people DO care because they always stare at me, specially if I'm talking in a Russian accent (thanks Call of Duty: Black Ops).

4) I sing and act... Glee songs... while I'm driving (which some people consider to be dangerous, but I disagree... I'm careful and always look both ways, and wear my seat-belt).
Other drivers always stare at me. I guess they're saying that I look stupid and crazy, probably retarded, but I don't care. I rather think that they're saying "Wow! She looks like a professional singer. She looks like she is SO dedicated to her job, that she's even doing her rehearsal in her car! I am lucky to be one of the few who is actually seeing her perform. I am speechless." And it makes my day :)

5) Every time I'm alone ('cause I live with three other people) and there's no one to cook, I don't cook anything... ANYTHING. I know how to cook, but I never do it if I'm alone... I'm too lazy. I eat like a homeless person: water, bread, cheese... and cookies. You should see me buying food for myself. This is what my cart looks like:

That's: bread, lactose-free milk ('cause my hobo stomach is weak and it can't take the real thing), cheese, ham, cookies, toilet paper, paper towels (yes, not napkins... paper towels are bigger and cheaper), and tuna. Forgive me for not drawing every single one of my items, but you get the point.

6) I'm afraid of clowns. People like them, but not me, nah-ah. Oh no. I am teeeerrified. If I see a clown, I'd be like "GET ME OUTTA HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

HOW are you NOT scared by THAT? Clowns are evil!!! Did you not see "IT"? The movie? Well, if you haven't.... DON'T!!!!!! Honestly, every person who's seen it (as a kid) is afraid of clowns.

Mimes are the worst. If I see a mime, I will start crying. Seriously. There was this one time that I went to a wedding, and for no apparent or LOGICAL reason, the bride and groom decided to hire not one, but TWO mimes to keep the people entertained.

My reaction? Cry every single time the mimes would come close to the table where I was sitting. Thankfully, a friend of mine noticed my eminent terror and fear of mimes, and took me safely away from them to the dance floor. (8) It's murder on the dance floooooor, but you better kill the mimes, hey hey, it's murder on the dance floooor, but you better run away, dj, gonna burn this goddamn wedding right down (8).

7) I have OCD. Yes. HOW can a person like ME have it? NO IDEA! I just do. Every time I leave my house, I have to make sure the door is locked, and I check it over and over again, until my weird brain says enough. I also triple check my alarm. I have to live in a SPOTLESS, CLEAN, SPARKLING house, and everything has to be in the same exact place. I know when somebody has been in my room, I can tell: I know the exact distance and place of every single one of my things. And my clothes? Organized in type (shirts, dresses, jeans) and color (black, then white, then brown, then yellow, then green, then blue, then purple, then pink, then orange, and finally red). Yes. I am crazy.

I'm weird. Period. I am strange and bizarre. Nothing you can do about it...

Does that make me a bad person? What do you guys think?

Weird dreams: Part 1 - "Zombies and Superheroes"

2011-06-13T13:18:00.000-05:00

As you may now come to know, I'm not what society considers as "normal". And part of the awesomeness of not being normal, is that you don't have normal dreams.
People dream about their job, about their family and friends, about what they really want, or maybe that they're flying and stuff. But not me.

I usually dream about vampires, and zombies, and aliens, and explosions and weirdness, withOUT watching a horror movie before I go to bed.

Here is one of the weirdest dreams I've had. And no, I don't do sugar, or caffeine, or alcohol or drugs or whatever. These dreams are the work of my "normal" brain, while it's asleep :)

Turns out we were locked in a hotel room with no light. We were about 20 people, a group with the few survivors of the ZOMBIE ATTACK!!!! (Dun dun duuuuun!!!!!!).

And, as a typical movie, you have the old couple, the party dudes, the tough guy, and the lady who's all concerned about everybody.

Suddenly, we hear a knock on our door.
- Open up! - a woman screams.

We all look at each other thinking "should we open the door or not?", and then the old lady goes on her own and decides to open the door. BIG MISTAKE, MRS OLD LADY!!!! A group of zombies is trying to come in with the woman, and now we're all trying to push the door back.
Then, the tough guy throws away the mattress, and takes the bed platform to put it on the door. Now we're all holding the bed platform against the door, but the zombies seem to be SUPER zombies 'cause they're all strong and we can't take it. So, PANIC!

In that moment, the party dudes find a way out: a storage garage that magically appeared on the other side of the room. BUT, one of us has to stay behind to keep the zombies distracted. So the old man, realizing the huge mistake his wife did, decides to be hero and stay.
Nobody argues and now we're all running towards the magical storage garage.

And suddenly, DUN DUN! The zombies break through the wall and attack our group, but a smaller group makes it out to a hallway, which also appears magically to save us.

So we run all the way to the elevator (power is up again) and we get inside (just four of us now), and then a cheerleader (whaaaaat---?) appears, trying to get into the elevator too, begging us to hold the door for her. So now, I'M the one trying to be hero by clicking the button to leave the door open until she gets inside.

Now, EVERYONE is clicking the button to shut the door!!! *click* *click* *click* *click* *click*. The elevator shuts the door just before the zombies get inside.

We are safe.

- Now what do we do? - asks our newest party member.

So I click the emergency stop button, and everybody stares at me thinking "WHY DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!?!?"
And I explain that we should have a plan before we reach the lower level, because, think about it: it is very VERY probable that there are zombies in each floor.

FLASH FORWARD to something else 'cause I really don't remember what happened in between. I think that my dream just pressed the forward button as well.

Now we're opening the elevator's doors with our hands ('cause the power's out again...), and as I had guessed it: ZOMBIES! So we start shooting at them (we got guns now!), and then the zombies bite the cheerleader and another one of the group.

And now it's just three of us: my kid brother, another guy and me.

The three of us run towards a market as we try to figure out what to do if we run into more zombies.
Suddenly, I spot an old refrigerator. I open the door, and it's empty. And my logic is: big refrigerator = metal walls = safe!
But there's not enough room for all three of us (sorry other guy, but my kid brother is more important and I'm too young to die!), so I put my brother inside, and I follow. And then...

IRONMAN!!! Ironman gets there and stops the door.

- Why are you hidding? I told you I was going to protect you guys! I didn't get paid for nothin'! - says our hero.

So Ironman rescues us, and we go flying with him! *swooooosh*.

But there are still lots of zombies on the area, and Ironman can't shoot them all while flying with two people. And then SPIDERMAN gets here! (And I don't know why, 'cause I really HATE Spiderman... I'm more of a DC girl... SUPERMAN FTW!!!).

So Ironman hands us over to Spiderman. Ironman turns away from us and bids farewell as he continues to fight the zombies to save the world *epic music please*, and we swing away from all the infected area.

THE END!!!!

The one about the worst feeling ever: cardboard

2011-06-09T10:32:00.000-05:00

One of the weird things about me (other than ADHD and OCD) is that I get annoyed or scared of things that I really shouldn't.

Take cardboard boxes for example. Just writing the word "cardboard" gives me the chills... LITERALLY. I'm not saying it like "oh, yeah, I don't like cardboard or all the cool stuff you can do with it" because cardboard is actually pretty awesome and you can really make A LOT of things out of it (or with it).

You use them to pack old stuff, or when you're moving, or when you want to put some stuff away for the season, or when you just bought a small dog and you haven't got the time to buy a bed or house for your new pet so you just put newspapers and VOILÀ: a brand new house for your pet.

And THAT'S why I hate cardboards the most. Because I CAN'T FREAKING USE THEM!!
They are actually really cool and useful, but I can't even stand close to them when someone is grabbing one. Why?........ IT GIVES ME THE FUCKING GOOSEBUMPS!!!!

You know how some people get the chills or goosebumps every time someone scratches the blackboard?

Well, I get the SAME feeling every time someone holds/grabs/touches a cardboard.

And the worst part is that it doesn't even have to be on purpose or a strong grasp or something. It can be the slightest touch that will make me flinch.

I hate it!!! I really can't stand it!!! Even thinking and writing about it just now, gives me the chills.

Whenever I've had to move (and I've moved like fourteen times in the past six years), I'd just put all my clothes on the car, just like that... no packing no nothing!

Of course, people would see me and think "Oh, poor girl, she's too poor to buy cardboard boxes. Maybe that's why she's moving, because she's too poor to pay for rent." And then they would always offer to help me out by giving me some of their old cardboard boxes, and I usually don't have any trouble saying "Fuck no! I rather be set on fire and eaten by a unicorn (because they are magical and can eat stuff on fire), and then be pooped out with a rainbow on my forehead (SOOO magical, they wouldn't have to chew me) than hold a cardboard box".

But sometimes, just sometimes (and with MY luck, it's almost every time) a friend will offer his or her help, and then I'm stuck because I can never say "no" to a friend, even if they ask me to take care of their pet who is a veggie and can only live inside because it also happens to have asthma, so no outdoors for it, even thou I live in a really small house with three other people, and it's also a freaking Beethoven (like the movie) who poops the size of my own dog, Chatis, and they don't leave any food or money for me to buy their special and expensive veggie gay-dog food, nor explain how on earth I'm supposed to clean up their mess without a special broom or grenade launcher or poop-disappearing-magic-laser thingy.

I have good self-esteem and all, but I also want people to like me (specially my friends, which is wrong, because if they really are my friends, that means that they already like me), so I hardly ever (never) say "no" to whatever stupid or crazy or mind blowing request they may have.

And THAT gets me stuck with "Thank you so much for offering your help! Bring all the boxes you can and we'll finish even faster!" and then I'll start thinking WHY, OH, WHY DID YOU SAY BRING ALL THE BOXES YOU CAN!?!??! YOU'RE GOING TO DIEEEEEE!!!!

And I never do, but sometimes I wish I did so I wouldn't have to get all annoyed with the feeling of cardboard boxes... it freaking sucks.

The one where I save a new born Petey Piranha (well, kinda)

2011-06-08T21:06:00.003-05:00

I was working on tomorrow's blog, but I just had to post this one up first because of what happened today.... We have a new pet plant!!!!

If you have ever played videogames in your life, I'm sure you've played a Mario Bros game before, and surely you've seen the piranha plants coming from a pipe:

Later on, another type of piranha plant was introduced, and it had legs and somewhat a kind of hair, maybe? I don't know, but it's called Petey Piranha:

Well, those things really do exists in our life, like wild and exotic plants that lay still awaiting their pray, hunting, ready to strike at any moment! Kind of like a ninja, hidden in the darkness, just about to shuriken to death a pirate.
Anyway, turns out that piranha plants (not those exactly, but you get my point) ALSO come from water pipes!!!!

I live in a small house (two semi rooms, one bathroom) with three people, and we all take turns in doing the dishes.
Our house might be small, but the kitchen is what really makes up for the lack of rooms to sleep in: it's really big, with lots of closets and space to cook in, and it also happens to have two sinks joined together.
The thing is, we only use ONE of the sinks to wash the dishes in. The other one has a sink tray where we put all the clean dishes so they can dry off on their own, and we rarely (ok, never) remove it to clean underneath.

Today was my brother's turn to do the dishes, but before he could do them, I would have to clear the area and make room for the new dishes by putting the dry ones back to their places.

So I did...

I was just about to finish, when I dropped a knife below the sink tray, so I picked it up and the knife wasn't the only thing in there.
There was a plant, A PLANT!!!!! Growing from beneath our pipe!!!!!! See?:

I asked my brother if they've dropped some sort of food or something because I couldn't tell what it was at first, until I got closer and took a better look at it.
And to our surprise, it was this tiny cute little bean, growing beneath our sink's pipe!!!

Sure, to some of you, this might look gross and all, but you should see it in person.... it is sooooo adorable!!! We decided to take it out of there, and put it somewhere else, so it could REALLY grow healthy.

So, we grabbed a glass, put down a couple of damped cotton balls, and then placed little John (yeah, I named it John) in his new home :)

THE END!!!!!!!!

P.S.- I'll try to upload another blog tomorrow.

UPDATE: Remember I found little baby John on my water pipe? Well, since we put him in his new home, he's gotten taller!!! Look: