BAnD aID(EA)

Apart from watching "The Real Housewives of New York City/Orange County/New Jersey", I have another bad habit - and that is picking my zits. Gross, I know, but I hate bumps on my face and somewhere in my delusional mind, I think by popping it, it'll magically disappear - like all the chocolate around the house. However, I've had a pretty stubborn one for the past month. It hid itself so well that I gave up and didn't bother touching it for a month. However, 4 days ago, it grew weak and l I had it wrapped around my (soaped, washed, clean) fingers - with a piece of tissue paper of course. It was such a stubborn zit that I couldn't get it all out in a day. Results? My cheek is now officially red, angry, swollen and raw from this bacteria bump. 


This all happened on Friday and I thought it would be better by Monday when I have to face the world outside of Facebook. Didn't happen. And my anxiety for it to heal quicker by applying creams just dried my skin up more. So, not only is it red, angry, swollen and raw, feel free to add flaky to that shit list. 


I woke up Monday morning with two options. Skip classes or go for plastic surgery. I wasn't allowed either, so I came up with a brilliant idea. I found clear square mini band aids in the cabinet and decided to apply cream and cover it up to save my classmates from the horror that is my face while 'treating' it at the same time. The only reason why I didn't mind doing this was because this volcano was situated on the inner side of my left cheek, so my hair would be able to conceal it nicely if I walked with my head tilted slightly to the right like a retard.


Here's the problem. As I was walking in to school, the wind started billowing gently like I'm auditioning for the role of Asian Pocahontas. Because I was walking against the wind, my face was exposed and my retard walk failed. My patch has seen daylight! I started walking like a new kind of retard. The 'paranoid on LSD' kind by lifting the folder all the way up my face like if I can't see them, they can't see me.


I kept telling myself that I only have two classes today and to just get by and leave. Doesn't sound too difficult, now does it? Wrong. The fire alarm went off while I was waiting for my second class. Ignoring it crossed my mind -high possibility that it is only a fire drill. As I see kids scampering off toward the exit, I felt compelled to drag my feet and face out the door.


So there I was, standing in the middle of a fucking field with the WHOLE school. Of ALL days. All I wanted was to get through the day with just two classes by camouflaging a patch on my face with a walk I so carefully crafted.


Thanks Murphy. Look, I'm sorry I stole your boyfriend. I guess we're even now.

We, The Confused Creatures.

I use the term "I want it, but I don't want it" quite heavily and every time I use it, I receive stares. Stares that say "What the hell's your point?!" But really, it's not like you've never experienced it before. It's a sort of confusing and indescribable emotion. Like your period. You don't want it because it is inconvenient in so many ways, but when you're late, you behave like someone died.

You know how malls have these model agency kiosks that are supposedly looking for potential talent? We know for a fact that these scouts are nothing but scavengers. They make you sign up but you have to pay in order to get gigs or 'training' to be more model-esque to raise your chances to get picked for gigs. Here's the thing. I know what their deal is, and I try to avoid eye contact when I'm within the vicinity. But when they don't approach me, I'm thinking "This is fucking insulting! Why? Are you calling me ugly? Who do you think you are? Am I not good enough for your pathetic establishment? What?!"

Then you walk into a designer store, where the left shoe is $350 and the right shoe is another $350, and skins of dead Italian cows cost $1500. I'm not hating on designer labels, I'm just bitchy because I can't afford. So I walk into these stores to smell expensive, touch luxury and look at what my life is missing out on. (Is it just me or do you find closed glass entrance doors intimidating?) So, I walk in with the intention to window shop and when the sales person comes up to assist me, I feel the pressure, the guilt and the poverty. I pray they don't come up to me and ask "What are you looking for?" Because I don't like questions I have no answers to. So, I avoid eye contact... again. But then, when there's no one in the shop and 5 salespersons decide that rearranging bags and folding scarves are more interesting than assisting me, I begin to think "What the fuck is the meaning of all this? Why? Are you calling me poor? Who do you think you are? Am I not good enough for your pretentious establishment? What?!" 

It's the weekend and you go to a bar with your girl friends. You see a hot guy. He's with his bunch of friends. Some hey hey and some nay nay. They notice a group of girls and decide to be friendly. So, they ask if they can join you and your friends. So you notice the hottest guy and it doesn't take long before you realize he's a smooth talker - your regular player. You're done dating men like that. You've sworn them off. You've had your fair share of heartbreaks. You're disgusted by their lack of respect for women. So, you talk to his friends and do what you do best - avoid eye contact. Then you realize he's talking, joking and laughing with all your friends BUT you. You start to think "That gay motherfucker! Why? Are you calling me unattractive? Who do you think you are? You manwhore, you!"

  

However, if he did try to make his move on you, you'd be thinking "What an asshole! Why? Are you calling me easy? What do you think I am? You manwhore you!"

So what do I have to say about all this? I guess I kinda know but I don't really know either.

It Wasn't Me

I have an hour or two between classes daily and I like to sit alone in the waiting area with my home made sandwich in one hand, cellphone in the other while listening to rappers grinding their behinds up some hot shawwwty's fine ass on my iPod.

I have this thing about eating alone in public. I mean yes, I hate eating without company but what I mean is, I'm the only one eating away in a waiting room. I find the need to offer everyone else a bite of my sandwich. So, I try to be discreet when I'm munching away on my sandwich. But do you know what fucks it all up? Plastic bags and aluminum foils. The scrunching sound of the plastic bag just wakes up the whole neighborhood. Now everyone in that room knows I'm having a sandwich. Awkward! Once that's done, I have to unwrap my sandwich and the reflection of the aluminum foil just landed Air Force One. So now I just use a sandwich bag.

Next, I need to take a piss before my class. This is another pet peeve of mine. I do not like the idea of someone listening to me taking a leak. It bugs me that they know how much piss I have been holding in. What if they came in later and finishes off before me? So I usually flush to mask the sound of nature's waterfalls with man made whirlpools. This is why I love public restrooms with music playing in the background. Or, toilets in clubs, where no one is sober enough to hear you.

Okay, what about doing a number two? I avoid that all together because I love taking my own sweet time and I release better when not under stress. However, I know I speak for many of you out there when I say you wait for someone to turn the hand dryer on before releasing a load. Or, you flush while dropping a bomb. Next, you pretend and wait five minutes hoping the ventilation fan above sucks all that foul stench you created so the next person who walks in won't know what you did. Because she or he's seen what you look and you might have to kill her. 

Lastly, is it just me or do you get offended when someone walks into the cubicle you just walked out off and leaves right after two seconds to the next stall? AND you didn't even take a dump in that one! That bitch!