Friday, December 31, 2010

Practically Children

Don’t let high school labels fool you, there are only two kinds of teenagers: teenage girls and teenage boys, and they are both made of the same image issues, raging sexuality and dramatic mood swings.

Exhibit A: The Teenage Girl and the Eternal PMS.

Long has been since my younger cousin rocked to the Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs tune; the only rocking going on nowadays takes place inside a lockdown room which she rarely leaves. During this Christmas break, I only say my 14 year-old cousin at dinner time; there, she just looked disgusted at her plate of food. She took two bites, her mother accused her of not eating right and hell broke lose, just like every single night: You just don’t see me eat, and what you don’t see must not happen, RIGHT? It’s always the same with you! I can’t take this anymore! Just leave me alone! I HATE YOU ALL!!

Don’t worry about us, though; my family has already survived four teenagers (and last one was me. Believe me, I wasn’t the adorable snowflake I am now). We just dedicated her half a minute of silence until someone cracked a joke.

Exhibit B: The Teenage Boy and the Adventures of the Penis.

One of my best stories. Kids, this is the story of how I discovered 16 year olds are adorable.

My big brother has a second roommate, who I haven’t mentioned because there’s nothing exciting to him… Other than having a rather cute 16 year old best friend. I could tell you the story of how our friendship blossomed but it’s generic as shit: we didn’t know each other, we talked and we got along great. You won’t believe me, but he truly doesn’t look or act as a 16 year old. Just a week ago I decided I had the hots for him (just like that, I’m very uncomplicated) and thought “this isn’t even a challenge”.

It wasn’t… And before I go on, legal age in Spain is 13. Look it up if you don’t believe me!

I swear I was planning of writing how incredibly adorable interesting it all was… But even I have my limits, and this kid’s integrity is one. I will, however, tell you two things: 1)I walked out feeling like all these years I knew moves not even Hugh Hefner dreams of and I wasn’t even aware of it. (OMG! What if I did invent blowjobs?) 2) It ended in a very cliché way: He smoking a joint while telling me what a goody goody he thought I was. If I had a nickel for ever time a guy has ever told me that… I’d have like two or three nickels, whatever.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Angels start Coming Out of their Boxes

Of all the things I rant about, Christmas is not one of them. Sometimes, when I’m in the mood, I even defend it from cynics. I heart Christmas.

I don’t get all the hate, really. I get it from teenagers, if they already hate themselves, poor little Christmas doesn’t even stand a chance. I’m pretty sure adults have different reasons to hate it; it’s one specific reason I don’t understand, probably the most in fashion nowadays: because it’s special.

People always bitch about the rest of us being hypocrites on Christmas; we are nicer, spend money we don’t have and make painful attempts to cook. Well, fuck yeah, we are. We are filthy hypocrites… So what? What would be the fun of the Holidays if we just did the same things we do on a daily routine?

A romantic may say we should be nice to each other the rest of the year. Yes, that’s very cute and I agree, but is that poor Christmas fault? I don’t hate Halloween because I don’t get to wear a costume the rest of the year and I surely don’t hate my birthday because people don’t give me presents the rest of the year. If someone is following my train of thought, what we should really hate is “the rest of the year”. Fuck “the rest of the year”.

The truth is, for the average person, being grateful, generous and lovable all freaking year is exhausting.

I can’t talk for everybody here. I find myself, most of the year, complaining about my dad treating me as if I still was a five-year-old, my mom’s endless list of questions, one brother’s lack of contact and other’s constant nagging , female friends’ slutty ways and male friends’ crappy jokes… I’m glad there’s a date when I’m pushed to face how much my life would suck without them.

Happy Holidays,
you filthy hypocrite.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Sensitive as a Goddam Toilet Seat

Remember my brother’s roommate? You know, The Roommate… The one I had such a pathetic crush on? Well, this entry is not about him.

(However, if you were wondering how that was going… We are passed that awkward stage and we now get along great. Every time I visit their apartment we stay late watching movies and talking. My brother even gave him permission to fart in front of me; permission he haven’t use yet, but he seemed rather excited about it. As if I didn’t have enough handling my brother’s delicate stomach… This entry is not about that, either)

Before I start with my real topic, I’m going to set this straight: I always try to write in a “general matter”, without mentioning anybody in particular; it seems like the nice thing to do, and you know me, I’m polite and shit. Since this is something of a “sensible topic” I have to make it personal, if not, it’d just seem like I think a lot of girls suffer from this complex.

I have two female friends that are very different from each other; different age, nationality, appearance and general attitude. They do, however, have something in common (aside from having boobs and a vagina… huh… See? This is why people can’t take me seriously); when I told them about The Roommate and how gorgeous and nice he was, I finalized adding with a defeated sigh “but he has a girlfriend”. Both of them answered me with a “So what…?”.

This is the moment where I warn you that I’m about to make a big deal about nothing, but I’m guessing you’re a recurring blog reader and you’re pretty much aware that’s what personal blogs are all about.

Well, I think those few words speak very low of both of them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized they’re weren’t that different from each other. First, I’m going to answer their stupid question with a simple ‘ There’s another woman involved, you selfish bitch’. Apparently all that ‘Girl Power” we like to brag so much about disappears when there’s guy in the picture.

In their sweet little minds, once the panties are off, dudes forget about everything else, including that things they call girlfriends. If you really think about it, it’s sad. That set of beliefs is still there because more than one guy has reinforce it. Of course I’ve met jerks, the world is full of them, but I’ve also met incredible guys. That includes my two big brothers (who are, both, currently very much in love) and my exboyfriend, that I always knew (except when I was PMSing) he loved me and respected me. Call me naïve, but I’m pretty sure that, even if he’s given the chance to cheat, not every guy will take it. That’s why ‘having a girlfriend’ is pretty much a deal breaker for me.

Maybe it’s because these two friends know I enjoy having conversations involving dicks and tits or they just have the need to brag about it; for whatever reason there is, I’m pretty much aware of all of their sexual encounters and, may I add, I’m also aware of all the disappointment and the why-hasn’t-he-call-me? those encounters lead to. They don’t understand why they can’t find a steady boyfriend. It’s funny, right? They’re looking for the kind of relationship they don’t believe in.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Old Enough to Know Better

After the constant phone calls to my mommy, the sudden need to lock myself inside my room and my lovely mood swings, I started wondering how much was I actually growing up. Right after the following thought popped into my head I no longer question that I’m 20 going on 16:

“Is everybody having more sex than me?”

All this started a couple of months ago, while I was having a not-so-deep conversation with an 18 year old girl friend, who isn’t exactly the sharpest tool on the shed, but I wouldn’t say she’s dumb… She’s sweet, really, most of the times. I guess that would be a really long nickname, so let’s call her “my tall friend” (yes, she’s tall… Didn’t I mention that?).

Tall Friend: […silly monologue you really don’t need to know as I can hardly remember it] but I’m pretty sure I don’t have more experience than you do.
Me: With how many guy have you been with?
Tall Friend: When you say ‘been with’ you mean actually fucked?
Me: Yeah… [If you want, make up something extra here, pretend I actually add something of value to the conversation]
Tall Friend: Eight.
Me: So I look like a girl who has fucked more than eight guys? That’s good to know… [and I meant every word]

From that point on it seems like everything I hear is how many fucks people have had in their lifetimes…

Unfortunately, from the first night I tried to catch up with those number I realized I have high standards … Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m just as surprised as you are.