Monday, July 30, 2012

SOME FOLKS NEED A GOOD SMACKDOWN



I can’t with this whole thing right here.     


I love Mondays. Hard to fathom, right? There’s just something about the start of a new week—ripe with possibilities and new opportunities to cross things off the smug to-do list that taunts me mercilessly on my desk—that fills my soul with glee. I wake up brimming with ideas, eager to get started on the MOST PRODUCTIVE DAY EVER.

My enthusiasm starts to wane though as my priorities inevitably shift. And smacking a random idiot senseless suddenly moves to the very top of my list. 

Because there are folks in this world, who test my limits daily, working my frail nerves until they’ve drained every ounce of human compassion from my body. I know, I'm not alone here. Ever share the road with a lycra-wearing, Lance Armstrong wannabe, who refuses to stay in the bike lane? Or suffer through co-worker small talk about morning commutes? Kill me now. Or stand behind someone at the express lane paying with a check…in 2012…who makes a mistake and HAS TO START OVER! Sweet Jesus, SAVE HER. You want to slap the annoying right out of these possessed fools. 

Often times, a bad hair cut and my vain fear of a potentially tragic mug shot going viral are the only things stopping me. Or perhaps, it's that tiny voice telling me, they ain't worth it. Stop letting stupid things bother you so much. I try. But it's really hard.   

Maybe if I vented, rid myself of any lingering hostility, I can sustain this Monday high? 

With that in mind, allow me to share some of the silly stupid stuff that annoyed, aggravated and just plain irritated me....henceforth known as...

TOP TEN BITCHES I WANT TO SLAP

--POP UP ADS. I was right in the middle of reading an article! Arrrrrggggghhh!!!! 

--People who say "ir-regardless". *smack*

--PINTEREST. I want to slap everything on it...Well, except for this. And this is also pretty awesome.

--FAMILY DRAMA. I've been there. And it's never pretty.   

--I wanted to slap the crap out of this MUSIC VIDEO. Until I caught J Lo's new video. The neon. The harem pants. FLO RIDA?! That's just a tall glass of nothing good.    

--CANCER. A talented actress. And a kind, generous soul. Lupe will be missed. 

--The world's WORST HAIRCUT. A distant cousin of this tired bitch.

--The guy at El Torito's who ordered a happy hour margarita with salt..."ON THE RIM, PLEASE." *smack* 

--TWILIGHTMELTDOWN 2012. Get. A. Grip. Twihards. Listen to NuttyMadam, the sole voice of reason and the only good thing to come out of this whole sad, sordid affair: LEAVE. ROBSTEN. ALONE.

--JUSTIN BIEBER. I had to really think about this one. I couldn't figure out why this kid annoyed me so much. Is it his music? No, I actually like some of his songs, though I'd never admit it publicly. Is it the hair? Not so much, now. His face? That's just mean. Is it his...swagger? Oh my God, YES, thank you! It's the damn swagger. I'm just not buying it. First of all, you're 18. You have no swagger. Sorry, Biebs. It's a fact. Plus you're White, HELLO. There are very few White people can pull off swagger. Eminem: absolutely. Timberlake: astonishingly, yes. Justin Bieber?! Nope, sorry. I find your attempts at swagger personally offensive, and honestly, a bit insulting. You're not some hardened criminal, out on parole, who has been through some real shit. You’re a kid. From Canada! Who sings bubble gum pop. You have not EARNED your swagger, young man. Pick up your pants. And have a seat. The streets thank you in advance.

Wow, I feel SO much better. Thanks for letting me get that all out.

And now, a moment of Zen to start the week on a happy note. Enjoy.... 



Wednesday, July 11, 2012

CONVERSATIONS WITH MY FLABBY GUT

 
Every morning, I drag my lifeless, uncaffeinated body to the bathroom and stare with contempt at the flabby mass spilling over my granny panties in the mirror.

Maybe I’ve seen one too many Disney movies. But I truly believed the evil gelatinous creature holding my carved abs hostage would’ve been vanquished while I slept by some mystical, benevolent force. Like fairies. Or night elves. Or a guardian angel who after witnessing my pathetic attempts to NOT EAT ANYMORE FRIED FOOD CRAP, along with my minimal yo-let’s-not-go-crazy workouts, takes pity and asks God to grant me a “flat abs miracle”. Because shit stopped being funny and grew sorta sad.
 
But the flabby bitch refuses to leave, like an overly clingy friend, who doesn't quite get that I don't enjoy her company. She smiles up at me, excited at the prospect of a new day filled with sugary sweet possibilities. I'm glad one of us is happy... 

Flabby Gut:             Good morning, sunshine!
MS:                           Why are you tormenting me. GO. AWAY. 
Flabby Gut:             Hey, let's have donuts! You know you wanna.
MS:                           I hate you so much right now.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

MY HAIR IS HAVING A BAD DAY

I want my freedom!
 
I am having the most dreadful hair day. I just can’t seem to do anything with it!

I blame my hairdresser and her unwillingness to accept my curly hair's defiant nature. Like most of her colleagues, she operates under the false belief that with enough “product” or the right straightening tool, she can tame the frizzy beast and torture it into submission. I’ve got news for you woman. You can’t tell a Latin woman’s hair what to do. She is a shady, unruly bitch. AND. SHE. CANNOT. BE. TAMED.

Anyway, she gave me this God awful choppy-layered cut that clearly would’ve been better served on the head of a cool, edgy Asian chick with pin straight hair. 

On my head, well, let’s just say it ain’t pretty...

The hell you looking at, bitch?!

After many lost battles with a flat iron, I’ve given up any feeble attempts to style it. So I decided to just let it dry naturally last night and do its own thing. I can’t say what greeted me in the bathroom mirror this morning was a vast improvement. 
 
Good Lord, my hair is HUGE!... 
I look like a 70s disco queen.
All I need is a bright orchid over my ear and some shiny plum gloss.
 
But I refuse to let it ruin my day. In the words of Indie Arie: I am not my hair.  

So I’m owning it. And I'm gonna rock this massive, tangled mess of curls with brazen confidence, like a trailblazing brown-skinned sparkly diva. I’m bringing this look back. 


 
 
Note: This is how you own a bad hair day…with a defiant stare...and serious attitude.


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MOVIE STILLS & QUOTABLES: 

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

SH*T WRITERS SAY

To begin...To begin...How to start?
 
So I’ve been M.I.A. for a while, which has got folks asking some serious questions:

….Are you o.k.?
….What you up to these days?
….Did you die in that tiny, sad apartment?!
….Why. You. So. SHADY.

These are the worrying thoughts that show up most frequently in my inbox and neglected Facebook page. Mostly from well-meaning friends with genuine concerns for my welfare. And a few sad bitches, awaiting news of my demise, so they can celebrate with a victory parade down the streets of L.A., where copious amounts of shredded paper are thrown exuberantly from high office windows as Mayor Villaraigosa hands them the key to the city and proclaims, “YOU win, bitch. Happy?"
 
You know who you are.
SO. STOP. FRONTING.
Those Deepak quotes on your Facebook page ain’t fooling nobody.

The truth is that I’ve been busy writing. Or at least, that’s what I like to tell people. 

Most days, I just think really hard about writing, as I sip a glass of wine on my sofa. Or I read a lot of blogs on the subject. Or engage in numerous other "productive" activities, like making daily writing schedules. Or re-organizing my desktop folders. Or watching Oprah’s Lifeclass clips for inspiration. Or catching up on my reading, because hello, WRITERS NEED TO READ. Or. Googling. Endless. Random. Topics. That. I. Might. Eventually. Want. To. Write. About. Someday. In. the. Near. Future.

It’s exhausting. And it leaves me little time for any actual writing. But judging by this video, it seems I am not alone. It’s all part of the creative process. Or at least, that's what I like to tell myself.

Note: This is what my writing days look like. Without the fur. And a lot more naps.



I'm gonna get back to work now...savoring this juicy-ass burger at my uncle's July 4th BBQ...and think really hard about all the brilliant writing I am going to get done...
 
MaƱana.
 
Happy 4th of July, ya’ll!!

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MOVIE STILLS & QUOTABLES: