I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!!

Birth control is weird. Technically, I'm taking it to help clear up my acne, but it's also supposed to be helpful in controlling annoying periods and preventing pregnancy (kinda).

Unfortunately, Yaz has some undesired side affects. Like making me sleep all the damn time. Or have periods between my periods. Or gain weight in places I don't want it (like my stomach). Or make me crazy.

I sleep a lot normally, but even since I started Yaz, all I've done is sleep. I wake up in the morning (so not feeling like P. Diddy), go to practice, go to work, come home at noon, and sleep until 5. Then I wake up (again, not feeling like P.Diddy), go back to work, come home at 9, eat dinner, then go back to sleep. Repeat 5 days a week. Saturdays, I wake up at 6 AM, go to work until 2:30, think about sleeping, then usually go party with friends 'til ridiculous hours of the night, then sleep until noon the next day. I come home, run errands with padre, nap for an hour or two, go get dinner, then go home and sleep. Moral of the story, it's not natural to sleep this much.

The whole periods between periods thing is just plain annoying. I mean, I know spotting is supposed to be normal, especially if you decide to go and skip your period, but I've been spotting for the entire month of June. Highly inconvenient, especially if you're in the mood for poor life choices. I started taking Yaz to stop my whole getting two periods a month problem, so what the fuck, Yaz? Work with me here.

I've been (unsuccessfully) trying to lose weight in my stomach for a while now. Ever since pledgeship ended, I haven't had a strict workout that I've been forced to do, and I'm not entirely motivated to work out on my own. So, ever since the middle of April, I've been steadily losing that flat stomach I earned during pledgeship. The birth control hasn't helped. It's made it difficult to lose any weight anywhere. The only plus to the whole weight gain thing is that my boobs are getting bigger. Yay!

Then comes the crazy. Before B.C., I didn't really get mood swings outside of PMS. Now, I get depressed or angry at a drop of a hat. Don't get me started on how horny I am all the time now.

So, in conclusion, please Yaz, I want to continue taking you, really I do. But I need you to start working with me. Stop with the negatives and let me get on with the poor life choices, dammit!

You know what they do to guys like us in prison

First, a haiku:

I love sisters

But sometimes they are stupid

And get arrested.

My pledge sisters mean the world to me. They're some of my best friends, and I really do think of them as sisters. But they can be total dumbasses.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm perfect and have never done stupid things. I do them all the time, be it drinking too much, saying or doing something stupid, taking off clothes at parties, or making poor life choices with boys that I really shouldn't make poor life choices with.

But I've never done anything that could warrant jail time.

I have a kind of situational ethics-outlook on things, but I generally have a no-no on theft. I can overlook a friend staling from the school store or from supply closets, because we pay a shit-ton of money to go to our college, we might as well milk it for all it's worth. But I tend to draw the line at shoplifting from businesses.

One of my sisters (forever to be known here as Dancing Bull) stole us matching bracelets from Wal-Mart. I didn't care too much, because they were cheap string friendship bracelets, and they were only a dollar each.

Two more of my sisters (Lost in Translation and Heart Droppin') stole a bunch of paint pens from a hobby store earlier this summer. I don't really care about that either, because I want to freaking paint pen.

But today, I got a text from a sister (Bond S3) saying that Naked Eyes and Crispe Bacon! were missing, and probably got arrested. Bond asked for a vote from all the sorority members if they were okay with using our sorority funds to bail them out. At the time, I had no idea what had happened and assumed the worst, like they got in trouble for drugs or alcohol, which seemed likely. I was all for using the sorority money. I wanted my sisters safe.

Then, after texting my other sisters asking if they knew why Naked and Bacon! would get arrested, I get a text from Dancing Bull saying they got caught stealing over $50 worth of merch from Wal-Mart. My opinion about using sorority money quickly changed. If they were gonna be stupid enough to try and steal that much crap from Wal-Mart, when they both had jobs and could most likely pay for their crap, then once we paid to bail them out, they had better plan on paying back the cost of bail. I'm glad that they are now free (as of 11:20 PM), but I would like to start the school year with money in the sorority funds, and I don't want to pay a shit-ton for semester dues.

Especially when our treasurer is a bitch who still doesn't like me.

EDIT 6/28/10:

Just found out they were caught with their new roommate trying to shoplift over $150 worth of merchandise. Again, dumbasses.

Don't touch mah purse!

They say that a woman's purse is sacred, a holy relic that holds the most important things to a girl. Supposedly, you can tell a lot about a woman by the contents for her purse. If that's true, I have no idea what mine says about me.

1) Supernatural: Bone Key -- I get bored easily. Sometimes, when I make it to work more that 15 minutes early, I need something to keep me occupied, because sleeping on the metal benches isn't comfortable, and I don't really want to watch the club swim team practice. Plus, I really love the show Supernatural.

2) Coaches Time Sheet -- This is how I get paid. There's two of them here, because I wanted to be paid every two weeks and you fill out one sheet per week. Unfortunately, it's easier for my boss to pay me monthly, so I get to hold onto these, plus two others so he can't lose them. You can't really read it from here, but I worked 29.5 hours in 5 days on the top sheet.. That is too much time near a pool.

3) Hair ties -- I think that is self explanatory. I get hot easily and need to put my hair up. Sometimes I break the rubber bands, so I always carry extras.

4) Corner Bakery Cafe receipt -- Obviously, I need to eat. And I never remember to throw my trash away.

5) Ray Bans sunglasses (Wayfarers) -- Because, sometimes when I'm driving and trying to see despite the sun, I like to look like a hipster.

6) Cell phone -- I use it to communicate, hold short notes, and constantly check the time when I am coaching, counting down the minutes 'til I'm done.

1) Receipt from the City of Van Alstyne Municipal Court -- Proof that I can sometimes be responsible and take care of tickets/defensive driving.

2) Birth control -- For controlling unwanted birthing and having two periods a month. Also helps with acne.

3) iTouch -- Because I need music when I drive/work out/go anywhere. This is usually plugged into my car.

4) Lip gloss -- Sometimes, I need my huge lips to stand out even more and draw attention to their kissable-ness. In actuality, it kinda just makes my lips sticky and annoying. Plus, it doesn't taste good.

5) Receipt for MG's -- Home of the second best burger place I have ever eaten. Located in Sherman. There are all you can eat burgers on Saturdays, which the swim team and I make a point to go to after a Saturday practice. I can usually down two.

6) $80 -- this is supposed to pay to get a new sticker thingy for my car. Obviously, I have yet to do that. I'm waiting for my dad to break and get it done for me. It's his money anyway.

7) Chap Stick -- Because I have chapped/dry lips.

8) $0.53 -- Left over from buying snacks at the vending machine during work. Peanut M&M's cost $0.65. I don't remember where the pennies are from.

9) Sunscreen samples -- from when I worked at the Byron Nelson Championship in May. I haven't really cleaned out my purse in a while...

1 & 6) Travel toothbrush and toothpaste -- Because sometimes, when you wind up waking up in someone else's house, you don't want to have morning breath. Also, I sometimes don't have time in the mornings to brush my teeth at home, so I do it at work.

2) Allergy eye drops -- Because I am either allergic to summertime or my cat, and my eyes get swollen, burn-y, dry, and itchy.

3 & 5) Purple lighters -- I don't actually smoke (usually). I was lighter pledge for my sorority, so I always had to have a lighter on me. Number 5 was the one I carried during pledgeship; number 3 I found when I went to Lake Campus earlier in the summer. It looked cool, and it was purple. It was only natural that I steal it.

4) Sunblock -- Usually, I burn extremely easily. Another by-product of inheriting all of my dad's whiteness. This summer, I've managed to tan, but I still get a bit sunburnt, so I try to remember to slather a bit of this on to avoid that. Usually it's on my left arm, because I drive with my windows open, and always wind up tanner/more burnt on that side.

So those are the contents of my purse. Please, let me know what they tell about me.

The Snow Cone Lady can cause she mixes it with love and makes the world taste good

So in the town I live in, we have this person called the Snow Cone Lady, and she's kind of a big deal. Everyone knows the Snow Cone Lady (unless you're not from here, like me, and didn't find out about this delicious goodness until the eleventh grade). I think her real name is Mary, but everyone knows her as the Snow Cone Lady. She's got kids in college and in high school. She's got hundreds of flavors of snow cones, and they're ridiculously low priced: a small snow cone costs $1.25 and a large costs $1.50. She used to operate out of a wooden little shack behind this gas station/country store/diner thing, but now she's upgraded to a little brick building a few blocks down the road. The line and sitting area is still outdoors, the snow cones cost twenty-five cents more, and the parking lot is still a rocky dirt field, but she's got to make over half a million dollars a summer, easy. I'm pretty sure she's managed to put some of her kids through college based on snow cone money alone. There is always a line at least twenty people deep outside of the window you order from, and she's always quick with the orders. She's open weekdays from 3-10 and weekends from 2-10, unless there's a storm/rain or it's a holiday. She's a town tradition and has been around since the 1980s. Summer starts when she opens for the season and ends when she closes.

This summer, because I started with practically no money, I've only been able to go to the Snow Cone Lady twice. Today, I managed to scrounge up $1.50, with every intention of buying a large strawberry snow cone to reward myself for not killing any kids during morning practice, and to put me in a god mood before the evening practices. I left my house early so that I could go to my dad's, let his dogs out, and make it to the Snow Cone Lady with enough time to get to the pool by 6:30. I sped all the way through a 30 mph zone and passed 2 cops all in order to get there in time.

And then I turned down the street her brick shack was located on.

The parking field was conspicuously empty.

The pop-up tents she used for shade were missing.

There. Was. No. Line.

The warning signs were all there, but I ignored them for the futile hope that maybe, just maybe, she was open. I mean, there weren't a superfluous amount of ominous rain-bearing clouds around. It wasn't a holiday. It was 6:15 PM on a Tuesday. She had to be open.

I drove past the building.

The green door that covered the window was closed, and I knew then, my fears were confirmed.

The Snow Cone Lady was closed.

Dejected, I turned around and drove off to the pool.

I got pissed during my first swim group (granted, I did get all of the annoying eight year olds), and I wound up making two of the middle schoolers swim a 200 fly.

It was not a good night.

Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder!

I love the original Star Wars. Not just because they are far superior to the prequels, or because they are just plain awesome.

Han Solo was my first crush.

When I was little, I spent hooouuurrrss pretending to be Princess Leia, traveling the galaxy in the Millennium Falcon, exchanging witty quips and making out with Han Solo (i was a very sexual 6 year old, apparently). My favorite movie was always The Empire Strikes Back, solely for the kiss scene in the Falcon, and all the love between Leia and Han. The scene where Han is about to get encased in carbonite and Leia tells him she loves him? I WANTED TO BE LEIA. I WANTED TO KNOW THAT HE KNEW THAT I LOVED HIM. When she had heartfail over him being frozen, I had heartfail. Their love was the love that I wanted: funny, dysfunctional, but pure and true.

Recently, I started watching the original trilogy again, mostly because I keep hanging around guys who would watch Clone Wars on TV, or would quote the movie often. Plus, SpikeTV would often have a marathon of all six movies. I'd rather watch them without all the commercials. And watching them has rekindled my love for Han Solo.

I want my own Han Solo. I want a scoundrel who can give as good as he gets. I want a stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder.

I wanna dance with no pants on

I liked clothes. Really, I did. They covered my body, and made me seem more modest than I can sometimes be, plus, they can be super cute. And then I went to college.

Dorms at my school are divided into clusters. My cluster was crazy. Like, seriously crazy. We traveled in packs, we were super loud, and no one liked to wear clothes. People on campus knew us as "The Cluster" when going out to parties. Now, because my cluster was so crazy, I often felt super-uncomfortable, especially first semester, because I was (and still am) socially awkward. People made me nervous. So living with 12 other crazy, loud, horny, and (usually) half-dressed girls was extremely shell-shocking. I hung out with the swim team a lot (which is strange because they were usually less dressed than my cluster on a regular basis...).

Anyway, being surrounded by people who walk around the dorms in their underwear eventually rubs off on a girl. I started to party more, and would usually be incapable of putting pajamas on at the end of the night. I got used to sleeping in my underwear, but that stayed in the privacy in my own room. I even covered myself with a blanket for modesty's sake (plus, I never wanted my roommate's 'visitors' seeing me in my under-roos).

And then, JanTerm came around, and with it winter weather.

Now, you may think that cold, freezing weather would make me want to wear more clothes. That, combined with the fact that I could not shave for swimming would make anyone think "she must wear pants and whatnot all the time." Well, yes, I did wear pants, and leggings, and tights, and basically anything to cover my hairy, hairy legs as much as possible. But my dorm does not have climate control in each of the rooms. Ah, the joys of living in the oldest dorm on campus. No, the entire building was set to the same temperature all winter: 88 degrees. And the awesome thing about my room was that you could not close the vents to adjust air flow. So my roommate and I had the heat blowing 24/7. I cannot stand heat. It makes it impossible to sleep. I have to be in a freezing room with a bunch of blankets to sleep at night (or any time, really). So we spent the entire winter with the window open. Or I slept in the study room. Regardless of my slumbering location, I slept in a bra and pants.

And then I could shave again. And pledgeship started.

I pledged with most of my crazy cluster, the ones who most vehemently disliked clothes, plus a few other girls who also did not care for the constant wearing of clothes. Except for during our Hell Weeks, I didn't wear many clothes to bed. I was just too damn tired. After a while, the 12 of us got used to seeing each other in various stated of undress. You have no idea how many times a bunch of us would just sit around in one of the girls' rooms in towels because we had either just taken or were about to take a shower. And then came the "Naked" parties with our Sweethearts. I don't think they ever saw it coming. Twelve girls, recently kidnapped (the first time), all topless. There were happy boys that night (and a happy me, but that's a story for another time). I don't really know how we lost our shirts the second time.

But, regardless, I joined my pledge sisters ways of not wearing clothes all the time. But I still liked clothes.

Now, it's summer in Texas. It's hotter than balls at any given point of the day. Heck, it's 83 degrees out when I leave for practice at 4:45 AM some days. And I hate, hate, HATE being hot and sweaty. It's not right to start sweating the moment you get out of a shower! So now I spend my days between work lounging around my house in my underwear. If my brother wasn't home all the time now, I'd be naked. Okay, no, I'm still not comfortable with myself enough to go around naked, but! I do understand why my sisters/cluster dislike clothes. Sometimes, they're just inconvenient. Like, when you're too drunk to put clothes back on. Or they're on the other side of someone's room, and really, why would you want to leave the bed in the first place, especially when who's in it is just so pretty. Or you're at a swim meet, and they're just gonna get wet if you wear 'em. Other times, they're just fucking annoying. Like when it's hot. Or they're gonna give you weird tan lines. Or you're fat and bloated from your period.

Besides, underwear and bikinis keep all the important stuff covered anyways.

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

My brother is 17. He likes video games, XBOX, Taco Bueno, Family Guy, doing impressions, talking in weird accents, and generally being an annoying little shit. And since he moved rooms since I've been away for college, we now share a wall. Thankfully, it's not the one I sleep next to, but we have a communal wall, none the less. Because he is an annoying little shit, he does his very best to try and make my life hell when we are both at home at the same time. Nine months out of the year, I can happily forget that I have a younger brother, and pretend that I am an only child.

Unfortunately, I have to come home for the summer.

That communal wall we share? He's got his TV next to it. So, since three days out of the week, I have to get up at 4:30 AM, he thinks it's funny to blast Rock Band, Halo, or Call of Duty all freaking night long. He doesn't go to bed until 4 AM, and wakes up at 1:30 PM. I get home from work at noon, and I go back to sleep at 1:30. What does he do? Plays his goddamn XBOX. I would very much like to take a sledgehammer to that stupid game system. Unfortunately, we don't own a sledgehammer.

I'd live at my dad's house if it wasn't for the fact that my dad literally has no food in his house, and I don't really want to share living space with my 25 year old cousin. It'd be a different story if he'd buy me liquor though...

My job makes me want to sterilize myself

I coach a swim team. Well, I'm one of 8 coaches anyway. We have six different practices, because there are over 500 kids on the team, and I'm usually stuck coaching 8 & under swimmers. Sometimes, this isn't bad. I usually get the more experienced kids who at least know how to swim. Four of my six classes aren't that bad. They act up every once in a while, but they're good kids, and I can have fun with them. My 10 AM and 6:45 groups however...

One of these days, I'm going to beat every last one of them with a kickboard.

The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big, Round Things

Image is everything, especially when you're a hormonal teenage girl. Or a female of any age really. People always say, "Beauty is only skin deep" and "It's what's on the inside that matters." Well, I say, bull-freaking-crap. When you are a shy, socially-awkward, nineteen year old college student who hasn't had a date and/or boyfriend, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with the way you look.

Now, don't get me wrong, by no means do I think myself ugly, monstrous, or horribly disfigured. But I do find things wrong with me. Who doesn't?

Basically:

I have a HUGE ass. I am told this all the time, by my teammates in the locker room, my neighbors in my dorm, and my pledgesisters. I am told this is not a bad thing, unless I'm on the wrong side of town at night. But when your waist says you're a size 9, but you've got to buy an 11 because you can't get your pants past your humongous hips, you've got a problem. Shopping depresses me, because no one wants to be reminded that they don't look like the Victoria's Secret models. I never know what size I am, because not only does sizing vary by designer, I never know if I should try to buy clothes based on my waistline or my butt. I always have to wear a belt with my pants and shorts, because I don't feel like flashing the world my underpants when my butt invariably drags my pants down. And a word from the wise: getting pants tailored is expensive.

So thanks, Madre. The only Latina genes you passed on to me turned out to be a curse, especially since you did not give me awesome Shakira hips to go with my giant butt. If I could dance, I would accept this a bit more. I could blame my dad for the large tush, but, even though most of his side if the family is a bit on the heavy side, their backsides are all as flat as a brick wall.

Speaking of genetics...

I am indeed half Hispanic. My mother is Puerto Rican, Cuban, and Spanish. My dad is German and French. Guess who I took after? Yep, I inherited white-girl dancing and a distinct inability to tan well. My brother took after my mom. He's super-skinny AND he can tan (bastard).

And thus goes the introduction to this blog-thingy. It's basically the space where I can bitch about things that I can't bitch about on Facebook, because I'm friends with my family, and I'm paranoid that, even though my entire profile is blocked from them, they still might see something I don't want them to find out about.