I'll never get married if I don't learn to cook.
The title of this entry reflects the logic behind my New Year's resolution: learn how to cook. At some point in my life I would like to get married and I have decided that no man would put up with a woman unless she knows how to prepare a decent meal. I know this is a grossly general statement and that there are plenty of happy marriages in which this is not the standard, but I am Spanish and Spanish women always cook dinner for their husbands, no questions asked. It's about time I gravitate towards total self reliance, and that means being able to cook something beyond the power a microwave has to offer. Eager to begin my quest towards culinary prowess, I bought some frozen chicken and let it defrost overnight. All during my classes I imagined how delicious my breaded chicken would taste, especially after knowing I had made it. Finally the time came to prepare the meat. I coated the cutlet in egg and rolled it around in bread crumbs, then placed it in the frying pan, in the canola oil I had been letting simmer. It smelled great for about three minutes, and then the poultry gods had their way with me. The oil began to hiss and spit uncontrollably. The breading was beginning to burn but the chicken was still raw. Time was of the essence. I couldn't let the meat cook anymore because the breading would be reduced to a black crust and my roommates would be rather unhappy regarding the incriminating smell, but I couldn't eat the chicken as it was. Do I microwave it? Will it explode? If I bake it, will the breading continue to burn? I had no idea. Accepting my defeat, I scraped the not-quite-dinner into the garbage and threw something into the microwave. I was unnecessarily angry over this setback. There it was, the foul and burnt-smelling truth--I'd never learn how to cook and therefore never attract a man. I'd be reduced to a crazy spinster with seven cats, and hell, I'd probably cut myself on the cans of food I'd have to open for them. The injustice of it all. I called my mother and did my share of bitching. She told me the right way to make breaded cutlets, and, relishing in a burst of confidence, I took out another piece of chicken to thaw so that I can try again tomorrow. I don't care if it takes me a month, I am going to learn how to cook chicken.
Everything kills you.
We, as a race, have screwed up. We have spit in the face of nature. Everything we eat is laden with chemicals, the air we breathe is coupled with toxins, the cars we drive are turning our planet into a colossal swimming pool. Smoking kills, but even if you don't smoke you'll die just the same from breathing it. Our meat is pumped with hormones, our processed food the equivalent of a fifth grade chemistry set. Who are we kidding? None of us are healthy. We're all going to perish from the years and years of abuse we have laid unfairly upon the innocent earth which has bore us life; and when earth gives us a natural disaster we plead with God, asking him why it happened, but we forget that we are animals just the same and no better than the trees and squirrels who met the demise we are trying to avoid. We've taken to believing that we're too good for disease, that we can pick out the gender of our children, that germs and gravity somehow might not apply to us. But they do, and when they do there's no amount of college educated doctors who are going to stop it. I don't know why I am writing this. Maybe it's because yesterday someone told me that soymilk is bad for you, after I have been drinking it everyday in place of regular milk, thus adding a new item to the list of things which cause cancer/are unhealthy for consumption. It angers me to only see on TV how filthy and unsafe our world is, yet there's nothing that can be done about it. Kraft won't stop making their chemical ridden macaroni and cheese, farmers won't stop putting growth hormones into their livestock, people won't stop driving cars, so what's the point? We've tainted the earth that has been given to us, and no matter what religion you are, or if you are even religious at all, you have to admit that we messed up bigtime. I am going to the gym.
Can You Really Love Someone?
Can you ever really and truly love a person, even through boughts of vomiting and diarrhea, through arguments and failed casseroles? It's easy to love a man when he buys you dinner, but can you love him when his breath smells in the morning, and can he adore you when you're out of tampons and too cramped up to buy more? Does love really exist or is it just a ploy fed to us by greeting card companies and wedding planners? What if marriage is this huge blunder that we've been following since the beginning of time when in reality we are all just a bunch of animals with primal reproductive urges? When you say you love a person, do you mean it, or is he just in the right place at the right time? Could another have made you feel equally as elated? I don't know where this lack of faith in love stems from. The marriage of my parents? The fact that I've never been in a serious relationship? The fact that I can't imagine myself ever being dependent on a man to pay my bills and tell me it's ok when I'm sad? Maybe I am too self sufficient for my own good. Maybe all my drive and determination to succeed in life and get a good job which will enable me to afford a nice house, car, food, and healthcare repels members of the opposite sex, or maybe I'm just a crazy bitch. Whatever the reason, I still feel that love is this hyped up glamourized fix-all to everyone's problems, that it's impossible to love someone for the rest of your life, because there will always be someone prettier than you, funnier than you, someone more compatable with you than the person you are with. That's a negative spin on love, but hey, if it wasn't true, people wouldn't cheat. I am aware that these thoughts showcase my glaring insecurities, but I feel I have a right to be doubtful. It's just as easy to get a divorce as it is to order a cheeseburger through a drive-thru. What's a girl supposed to think? Is she supposed to believe that there's one man out there, just waiting for her, and they'll run off into the sunset but once she pops out a couple of kids and gains a few pounds that he'll fuck his secretary while she cleans eggs off a frying pan? Are we in search of something we'll never find, or are we not looking hard enough?
Must Read!!!
I'm bored... i got this from my sister's blog.(
http://im-a-rockstar.blogspot.com) soo funny! haha I love you Anne!!
How to be a slutty bitch!1.Tell every girl their new haircut looks nice, even if it looks like a slaughtered rabbit. Then suggest getting the same one yourself next time you go to a salon.
2. Act really, really, atrociously stupid. Never raise your hand when the teacher asks a question, and when you are called on, immediately get this dumb look on your face like you so totally weren't paying attention at all. It would help if you had your cell phone, lipgloss, or highly priced purse beside you to aide in this display of stupidity. After the teacher has called on someone else to make up for your idiocy, whip out your phone and instantly begin text messaging the first 300 people in your phone book. You should have at least 500 numbers. If not, then you're unpopular, and everyone probably hates you, you shit. hehehe!
3. Wear exceedingly short skirts, then drop something on the floor and slowly bend down to pick it up. You may also want to stand in front of a vent and then act "surprised" when your see through thong is exposed for entire civilization to see.
4. Eat bananas and ice pops seductively in the cafeteria, then sit next to the football team and complain about how much your boyfriend sucks.
5. Do not buy clothes that are on sale, discounted, or ones that come from non-brand name stores.If you pay less than $50 for any article of clothing, you are disgusting and everyone is going to comment on your poor fashion sense. Sales are for losers. Also, do not wear the same shoes two days in a row. Repetition is also for losers.
6. Be any of the following for Halloween: a french maid, a hooker, a slutty fairy, or any other costume which reveals as much skin as possible. Do not under any circumstances eat any candy. Instead, unwrap it like you are going to eat it, then complain how fat you are and toss it to the side. Then open a beer.
7. Only discuss the following things in public: boys, hair, nails, Lindsay Lohan, purses, the OC, Ashton Kutcher, tofu.
8. Go to a tanning salon until your skin becomes an orangey-purple hue. When you get to the point where you think you've tanned enough, then tan some more. Only stop when you can peel off your entire face, leg, or arm. Pale skin is for failures.
9. Do not form your own opinion unless it has been approved by Teen People or any other trendy magazine. Opinions are for dorks who shop at K Mart and grow up to fat and pale. If someone asks your opinion of something, say you don't really care one way or the other and smile.
10. Everything you eat must be low carb. Everything. If you cannot find any low carb foods, then eat nothing, even if it means starving for days. If you are fat, you have failed society and no guys will ever date you. You might as well go into a spider infested corner and die.
11. You must be prettier, trendier, and smell nicer than everyone. If someone attempts to be better than you in any way, then you must automatically loathe them and scribble furiously about them on the bathroom wall. Don't stop until they attempt suicide.
Some people were born to piss me off.
Today I sat next to the most obnoxious human being. I just wanted to strangle her. First of all, it's a lecture class and the professor never takes attendance so you don't have to go if you don't want to. This bitch comes to class with no notebook or anything, just a newspaper to read during the lecture. Then she starts talking to the guy next to her while I am trying to take notes. Look slut, if you're going to show up, not pay attention, and have a moderately long conversation with the kid next to you, then why don't you fucking stay home and paint your nails? I'm trying to learn. I'm not paying tuition so some skank ass can sit next to me and bat her eyelashes. Then she starts making these comments which are supposed to be funny. For exmaple. The two lovebirds were discussing softball and the guy was like, "I hate softball" and she responds with, "Softball hates YOU." Good one, dick breath. That shit isn't funny.
I'm a bitch
When I stand up for myself and my beliefs, they call me a Bitch. When I stand up for those I love, they call me a Bitch. When I speak my mind, think my own thoughts or do things my own way, they call me a Bitch. Being a Bitch means I won't compromise what's in my heart. It means I live my life MY way. It means I won't allow anyone to step on me. I embrace the title and am proud to bear it.
When I refuse to tolerate injustice and speak against it, I am defined as a Bitch. The same thing happens when I take time for myself instead of being everyone's maid, or when I act a little selfish. It means I have the courage and strength to allow myself to be who I truly am and won't become anyone else's idea of what they think I "Should" be.
I am outspoken, opinionated and determined. I want what I want and there is nothing wrong with that! So try to stomp on me, try to douse my inner flame, and try to squash every ounce of beauty I hold within me. You won't succeed. And if that makes me a Bitch, so be it. I embrace the title and am proud to bear it. And now I love bein a bitch!!!
Why does everything have to be so damn AWKWARD?
Pienso que tengo un problema. Cada vez que consigo implicado con un monstruo del individuo I hacia fuera. No se manejar cosas. Muy bien ellos estoy hablando con, colgando hacia fuera con ellos, lo que, pero una vez que las cosas vayan mas alla de esa, Juro, Pienso que mi cerebro comienza a derretirse. Me siento como soy la unica persona con este problema. Mis el resto de los amigos de muchacha son atractivos y no se parecen preocuparse de esta clase de cosa. Debo ir en el Dr Phil show.
haha i feel like writing in spanish... sorry guys! haha
