dear stranger on the internet, we should be friends

Mi papi chulo is in San Diego until Tuesday. This is really traumatic for me because I live in a city where I have no friends. So I've just spent about 3 hours reading strangers' blogs. These are my friends. Like sometimes I fantasize about hanging out with them, but the problem is that they don't even know how tight we are. I mean, they don't know I exist. #sad.

reflections on marriage

Eugenio and I are two months from our year anniversary. Despite my desire that we argue more, we're still going strong. Yay us. In commemoration of our being legally bound together until we're not, imma post reflections whenever they strike my fancy.

I just cleaned the bathroom so this one looms over my mind:

1. All of those dark, curly bodily hairs littering the porcelain eventually fade into the background.

2. Regular housekeeping is advised.

fashion face off

I'm no fashionista but my husband is un poco loco. This hombre who wears a gold chain and shirts that are borderline Ed Hardy says he dresses better than me.

Me: I can't believe you think that!

Husband: It's not that I think that; it's that it's a fact.

Me: Whatever! You're like Bruno. You're hilarious and confident but not self aware.

I'm either pointing out his delusion or my really, really poor fashion sense.

EDIT: If this sounds mean, note that I unabashedly wear grandma underwear from Walmart and happen to love Eugenio's necklace. I have literally (literally literally not Rachel Zoe literally) never seen him not wearing it. And Ed Hardy is pushing it. They're just shirts with questionable designs. I don't like to be mean. It messes with my self perception of being inherently an asshole but externally charming.

On Britney Spears

"She's my inspiration! She was in a mental ward, lost custody of her kids and let her body go. If she can get through all of that, I surely can pay off my student loans." - Elle

team lydia, what

I read Pride and Prejudice for the first time ever this week. My first Jane Austen book, actually. I'm not sure if that's surprising, but I feel like it might be considering how people wax poetic about her books. Or maybe that was a 90s thing? I'm what marketers (I know this because, for lack of direction, I majored in marketing) would refer to as a laggard, a loser who misses the boat most the time. I mean, I just joined twitter and all I want for Christmas is a web cam.

Back to the point. I read Pride and Prejudice and I liked it in the way that I like anything old timey with horses and carriages, but I had trouble following the story line with my post 19th amendment frame of mind. When the whole family was fretting over the whore of a sister Lydia for disgracing them by going off with that opportunistic asshole Wickham, whom they all hate, I thought her father and uncle were going after her to save her from marrying him. Like, I thought they loved her so much that, even though she's a twit, they wouldn't want her to marry that prick. When I realized they were running around the country to force him to marry her, I was like huh? Say what? I then turned to Spark Notes to remind me that back in the day it was unwholesome to hit it and quit it. Actually, it was unwholesome to just hit it period. So, the stupid whore Lydia was shaming the whole family by going off to elope, i.e. shacking up in hotel rooms along the way, with this dude that had no intention of marrying her anyway. He knew how to spot 'em. This character Wickham has stood the test of time. Lydia was stupid for thinking this guy really loved her, so I'll give Jane Austen that. But people fall in love super quick in this book/era anyway, so it's hard to blame Lydia for being so blind. Two people would be sitting in the parlor together barely making eye contact and the next day BAM! Engaged. As planned by the author, I didn't care for Lydia much at any rate because she was inane, but I didn't take kindly to everyone getting their knickers in a bunch over her harmless flirtation. Alas, Lydia was born in the wrong era. She would be living it up here and now. Her facebook page would display countless pictures of her all up in the club, flaunting bleached hair with boys pressed to her cheek, alcohol glasses in the air, in all her sorority face glory. Get it girl. Hopefully at one point she'd grow up and not be so vacuous.

Anyhoo. This isn't really a book review (clearly), and it wasn't supposed to be an in defense of Lydia post, though I'll go on record to say that I liked Pride and Prejudice despite the understandable, sign of the times, bourgeois morality. It was all early nineteenth century charming with dialogue and vocabulary that sent me googling, and with overriding themes that I could get behind. Speaking of morality, dialogue, and themes, it sure beats the hell out of that Twilight shit. (I probably just offended some people with that statement and I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have such bad taste.) What I'd like to point out though, which took me this many sentences to get to, is that I concurrently read Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life, in which she hilariously details her one night stands. So, class -- I dunno, I just got a vision of me reading this in front of a classroom -- what I'd like to say is this: the shameful whore of yesteryear can be today's smart and funny profiting heroine if she plays her cards right. Team Lydia represent.

honk if you love jesus

I've always wanted to honk at someone all like pinche cabron! But I don't do that because I think honking is rude, and everyone in Orlando honks at the slightest annoyance because people here are assholes, if I may so generalize. My favorite is when people with crosses and/or crucifixes dangling from their rear view mirror get road rage horn without a 'Honk if you love Jesus' bumper sticker in sight. WWJD, MF.

ANYHOO! Today I got to cross honking off my bucket list. It was my husband I was following who was sitting at a green light in the car in front of me like an idiot, but honking in public still made me feel like a boss lady. Really I could have sat at that green light all damn day because we were just going to Micky D's before taking his car to an auto repair shop, but I saw the opportunity and took it.

I know what you're thinking about this post. #keepittoyourselfnexttime

EDIT: After I pressed publish, a christian rehab center was the advertisement google suggested for this post.

what a pile of shit!

Sometimes when I hear myself say something or refrain from saying something in a social situation -- in an interview, to a coworker, to a stranger that insists on making small talk -- which betrays how I really feel, I hear my inner child, who happens to sound exactly like Elizabeth from Drop Dead Fred, say "what a pile of shit!" Then I smile, concealing my laughter, leaving the recipient of my social graces to assume that I'm so contented with the discussion at hand, rather than the one in my head.