Maribel shared her ENTP-ness, so I thought I’d do the same and give you my personal prison that is an INFJ… A brief description:
I –tend to be quiet and reserved. They generally prefer interacting with a few close friends rather than a wide circle of acquaintances, and they expend energy in social situations. N – tend to be more abstract than concrete.
F – tend to value personal considerations above objective criteria.
J – tend to plan their activities and make decisions early. They derive a sense of control through predictability.
The good stuff:
Inspiring and Convincing
Determined and Passionate
The stuff that could drive you insane:
Always Need to Have a Cause
Can Burn Out Easily
Me at a social gathering:
When plans are canceled:
When I make a mistake and others noticed…my internal self:
My verbal process:
If I had a kid, I’d share the news like this:
So between being an INFJ and a Scorpio I could be perceived from the outside world as a weird quiet awkward bitch? If that makes sense…My life, it’s adorable.
Talk the talk, boo. We had something similar on I Heart Shiny Things, but of course, that was one million years ago. If you want to sit down with us over nachos and wine, you have to be down with the lingo. It’s still a lot of pop culture references mixed with English and Spanish. You will also see old words we have posted, deal with it.
Power Puerca (Noun):To nourish thyself with food until the point of asking God for forgiveness. *Puerca means pig in Spanish. Some may be familiar with the term already. $Cruz and I used to have what we called, “Power Puerca Fridays” – which meant that we could eat WHATEVER we wanted. It’s a better and less basic way of saying, “OMG Becky, it’s my cheat day.” No, Becky, I am going to eat like a pig on steriods, so get out of my way before I eat your face off.
How to use in a sentence:“I’m going to be a power puerca when we go eat sushi. I don’t give a fuck.”
Party Fat Ass (Noun): To nourish thyself with food during a social gathering. I remember when this term was invented. It was New Year’s Eve and we were at a house party. A friend and I were being judged for eating food instead of drinking. In my defense, eating before drinking helped me ring in and remember the New Year. I created a maxi pad of food in my stomach for my booze to be absorbed. It’s called being, “responsible.”
How to use in a sentence:“Oh my god, I went to this networking thing after work. I couldn’t stop eating these salmon cake things. I was being a total party fat ass.”
MC Hammer (Noun or Verb, mostly Verb):To blow thy money away. We all know MC Hammer was 2 Legit 2 Quit. However, he was not 2 Legit with his finances. I am pretty frugal most of the time, but every once in a while, I like to be a big spender. Because any purchase over $50 makes me feel like I’m going to go bankrupt (eff you Sallie Mae), the term MC Hammer seemed fitting.
How to use in a sentence:“I know you just got your tax return. Please don’t MC Hammer it away.”
Chones (Noun – rhymes with “bones”): Thy undergarments. *Derived from the Spanish slang term, “chonis”, which is underwear) I don’t remember the backstory behind chones. We just butchered it for fun.
How to use in a sentence:“How can you forget to pack underwear? So you’re only working with what you have on right now? It’s like your playing game of chones.”
Monkey Butt (Adjective for humor): To describe a person’s basic, lackluster, uninspired humor. One of my old co-workers was trying to play a prank on my supervisor. He wanted to take magnets and spell, “you smell like a monkey’s butt.” I was appalled at how not funny he was and told him, “That’s not even remotely funny, say something about his mother.” Ever since then, Stefanie and I have used the term to describe unfunny people: Family Guy lovers, Dane Cook fans, and people who enjoy America’s Funniest Home Videos – especially the non-Bob Saget era.
How to use in a sentence:“So this guy and I have been texting. I can’t do it anymore. He’s so monkey butt with his jokes.”
Napkin-Twisting (verb): The reaction and anxiety one gets when witnessing someone do something cringe-worthy. Usually when watching someone make an ass out of themselves. I’m pretty sure Stefanie came up with this one. If you’ve ever experienced the feeling of crawling out of your skin as you watch friends and family make fools of themselves, usually through some sort of ‘artistic medium’, then you know what napkin-twisting is.
How to use in a sentence: “oh my god, he made us sit there as he read his poetry out loud. I was internally napkin-twisting the whole time.”
“What do you think I am, una gringa? Because that’s how los gringos are, they don’t have any morals. They all have dinner with each other like it’s nothing. “That’s because we’re civilized,” a turista once explained to me. What a barbarity! Civilized? You call that civilized? Like dogs. Worse than dogs. If I caught my ex with his “other,” I’d stab them both with a kitchen fork. I would!” – Caramelo, Sandra Cisneros
Let me just preface this post by telling you how lovely I am. I’m an absolute peach, I swear. However, if I have been crossed,betrayed, or wronged, I am the ultimate grudge holder. The older I get, the more I am willing to let go of these useless feelings. Resentment, anger, and sadness will make you rot from the inside out. In my late teens and early twenties, I didn’t know how to harness any sort of emotions, good or bad, because I hated to feel anything at all. When feelings of rage popped up, I had a tendency of hopping on them like a cowboy at a rodeo. I think the worst feeling is having someone break-up with you for good. They know everything about you, and they still do not want you. After a break-up, they walk around armed with your darkest secrets and a list of your insecurities. This is why they must be destroyed.
Below is a list of things I have done in the past as a less-than-friendly-ex-griflriend. Most of these malicious acts occurred in my late teens and early twenties. I’m sharing these experiences with you all because I can laugh about everything now, even though back then, it felt like the end of the world.
MySpace! Talk about #TBT! The original social platform that destroyed relationships and lives! Way back when, I broke into my ex-boyfriend’s Myspace profile and added some colorful information to his profile. You see, the “About Me” section in your profile was important because it hooked people into sending you a “friend request.” This fool’s About Me section was paragraphs long; he thought he was the greatest person ever. I decided, that it would be fun to include things like: “I used to be fat, but now I’m making up for lost time.” In my defense, this was true, and the public had a right to know this information. I also changed his sexual orientation status from straight to gay. It gave me a pang of satisfaction whenever I checked his MySpace and saw that he hadn’t realized what I had done.
You’re wondering how I broke into his MySpace? He asked me to create an e-mail account once while we were dating. With that same e-mail account, he had created his MySpace profile. Since I already knew his e-mail password, I simply clicked, “lost password” and had it sent to his e-mail. Have I scared you yet? Oh yes, and I also kept tabs on his messages for awhile. His outbox was full of thirsty messages to the girls of MySpace, and because they were so sad and pathetic, I was able to move on.
I barely remember my own phone number now, but back when I was dating this other fool, I knew his number by heart . When we broke up, I was stuck with this useless combination of numbers in my brain. After one night of dancing and drinking downtown, my friends and I were approached by Arab gentleman. One of them demanded: “give me number.” I then gave him this random combination of numbers that all of a sudden became useful. He then asked, “why isn’t phone ringing?” and I said, “well it’s dead, but text me ‘sexy’ in a couple of hours so I know it’s you.”
False Claims of Gay Behavior
The following statements have been said by me after relationships:
“I don’t know, he said he felt safe enough with me to admit that he was sometimes attracted to dudes.”
“He said when he was about 14, he kissed one of his friends. Like they did it sometimes, to practice or something.”
Both are false, none of these statements actually happened. However, one guy did say: “Brokeback Mountain is a beautiful love story.” This didn’t have anything to do with homosexual tendencies, he was trying to come across as socially progressive.
Back when I was way more immature, being with me was like being part of a two-person gang. If you wanted “out” of my two-person gang (also known as a relationship), you had to go through the gang-disassociation protocol. Instead of enduring an intense beat-down by your old clicka , you had to put up with my secret wrath. Now, the older I get, the lazier I am. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s on you, boo boo. I’m too fierce for most people anyway.
My cultural identity is on a constant Kinsey scale continuum–some days I’m exclusively American, some days I’m exclusively Mexican (*Some of us, like my friend, who I’ll call “Tiffany News”, are not Mexican. Tiffany is Salvadoran*). One day, I’m all about listening to Selena, and the next day, I’ll say something super-white like, “hell yeah, I love 80’s music.” Truthfully, the whitest things that has ever crawled out of my mouth has been, “Yes, Frasier is funny.” Culturally, I’m always DTF…Down To Fluctuate.
Although I am able to stand my ground as an adult, it was hard for me growing up. I’d try to pick up a hobby, or like certain music, and I’d be accused of being, “too white,” or “too Mexican.” There was no winning! Weird Brown girls that love Dawson’s Creek and Telenovelas get no love!
I’d like to also note that there was an underlying class issue here. My parents were poor, therefore, I was poor. I didn’t have access to many things because of this. For example, I get accused of being too white for being into yoga. Yes, people practice yoga in Mexico, but of course just like yoga here in the United States, people with money can afford yoga classes. Yoga is a luxury. I just hear George Lopez white-voice saying, “OMG, LMAO, BFF…”
Venturing into unknown territory is extremely frightening. I would throw myself into things without knowing anyone who may have pioneered the way before me. Various questions run through my head like, “Am I going to look stupid if i fail miserably?” or “Do they see me and automatically think about how different I look?”
Below is a list of things I have forced myself to conquer, regardless of what anyone else thought– including myself:
I’ve been practicing yoga sporadically since I was 18 years old, but it wasn’t until about a year ago that I decided to get a little more serious. Since I’m still a beginner, I had to self-talk myself into taking a class in the Pearl District. I was afraid of walking into a class full of ripped housewives that took yoga and pilates classes on their husbands’ dime. I remember standing in front of the yoga studio, taking a deep breath, and thinking, “You are privileged enough to do this for all the weird brown girls that can’t.” And I did it. It was like pulling a mental band-aid. Sure, I walked into a class full of hard-bodies that casually said, “Oh, I’m taking this class as a warm-up to my Ashtanga class after this,” but I was there to do my thing. Namaste, mija.
I was introduced to sushi in high school. My best friend at the time really enjoyed it and taught me how to eat with chopsticks. Of course because I was a newbie, I ate wasabi like it was candy and instantly regretted it. It was like eating 1,000 jalapeños at once. I didn’t know what wasabi was, but now I know what to do when I want my sinuses cleared.
Since we are on the subject of seafood, its only fitting that I incorporate the Red Lobster story. Stefanie Tiffany and I were extremely broke after college, and were collecting money to leave her sister’s house. One day, we decided to splurge on some makeup and a delicious meal. Neither of us had been to Red Lobster, or had lobster, so we decided to boldly go forth into the world of fancy seafood. Because we are both wound up like corkscrews, we both began to panic because we didn’t know to actually eat the lobster. My mind raced back to an episode I had watched of Queer for the Straight Guy; the one where the straight guy looked like a moron in front of his lady friend as he used pliers to eat lobster. When we sat down to eat, we YouTubed “How to eat Lobster” on our phones. True story. Below, you will see a how to eat lobster, because I love you enough not to make a pendeja/o out of yourselves. I like how the guy in the video calls the lobster cracker, “ubiquitous.” He’s like, “Oh, this old thang? pfff no big deal. I ate lobster Gerber as a baby. I’m about this life.”
College/Advanced High School Courses
My only window into the world of college was the show Felicity. I was twelve years old, and I thought that everyone’s college experience must be universal. Everyone gets a job as a cool barista in between classes, right? Her biggest problem was switching from pre-med to art, and going back and forth between two guys (Team Ben), sign-me up! What I didn’t realize was that Felicity was a white girl with money. Felicity didn’t have a dad with a pick-up truck that helped her move into her dorm, and a passerby never called her a “country bumpkin” as she was moving her shit into her college apartment. Nope, that didn’t happen to her, but it happened to this girl.
Felicity had the luxury of looking like her classmates, and partaking in the collective cultural atmosphere. It is the loneliest feeling in the world when you notice you are the only person of color in your classroom. It’s like being dropped into the sea with only your floaties. Unfortunately, the journey to actually get into college was so daunting, my classes then intimidated me. I figured if it was so difficult to get in, the classes must be hard! Nope. Everyone’s kind of an idiot. I always had to self-talk myself in class sometimes before I realized: I am just as smart as everyone else, and I have a lot to contribute. By my fifth year (See, felicity didn’t even have a fifth year) I was not contributing my opinions in class, I was barking them. It was very DMX, not so much Felicity.
Traveling/Airplane Etiquette/Fancy Hotels
Stefanie and I will forever be the two old ladies that arrive way too early. We’re like the two old muppets, Statler and Waldorf. When we would travel in a big group, we’d be the ones on time before anyone else, with our purses on our lap like viejitas. Everything has to be perfect to avoid delays, missing flights, and looking like a total idiot. Our parents immigrating to the United States doesn’t count as “jetsetting,” or “globe trotting,” so we don’t know how to travel without having our butt cheeks clenched the whole time.
My favorite part of traveling with my friends is the reveal of the hotel. Its like we were all part of the Make a Wish Foundation and our dying dreams came true. Immediately, one girl will be taking in the view, another will be walking around with a plush white robe for no reason, and then there’s one girl who will ruin it with, “you guys, I have to go to the bathroom…”
As you can see, I dive in head first to these new experiences, sin miedo. I’ve had to adapt as best as I could.
When TLC sings, “Stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to,” I feel that this is applicable to my social life. Simply put, I need to not think I’m a young bad bitch– I’m an old bad bitch that’s had her fun. I’m now used to sitting, drinking, talking, and judging other people. I’d rather sip wine and have a great conversation. The days of taking two hours to get ready while trying to flounce around in high heels are done, and I need to tattoo this on my forehead. Due to some shitty fucking life circumstances and my partner in desmadre gone, I’ve become the ultimate hermit. However, I did make an effort a couple of times to put on nice clothes, some lipstick, and pull myself together.
Given my shitty life circumstances I mentioned, my brain decided to purchase a one-way ticket to a mineshaft. I have been the proverbial wet blanket; the sad clown smoking and talking about his “bitch of an ex-wife” in front of the kids at a birthday party. When I am in these places in life, alcohol and I are like Bobby and Whitney (RIP, girl). I also grow a “DO NOT PRESS/SELF DESTRUCT” button that somehow gets pressed anyway. At one recent outing, someone decided it would be a great idea to load me up with free vodka. Free. Vodka. Superman would also consider free vodka comparable to kryptonite. Anywho, I said and did some dumb shit to some random strangers. And just like that, the bouncer shooed me away like a stray cat. At this point, I feel I may need a face transplant before I can go back.
The second time I went out, I was lured out with the promise of a free drink by my gal pal (see how “free” is a theme?) I got semi-fancy, wore some heels, and was armed with the desire to go with the flow. I walked into the venue and felt like I was an alien that crash-landed on earth. Naturally, I drank to make that feeling go away, but not to the point where I made an idiot out of myself. In non-chronological order, here is a list of things that happened that night that re-affirmed I was a senior citizen:
My friend was doing the Roger Rabbit dance in the middle of the dance floor and kept saying, “Bitch, we’re getting Taco Bell after this.” When you care more about getting food afterward over talking to cute guys, that means you’re old.
Cute guys were all 23 and under.
If you go into the middle of the dance floor, someone always has intense “fresh-cut onions” body-odor. Always. Portland doesn’t believe in deodorant.
Someone ALWAYS farts. The heat created by people dancing doesn’t help this situation.
I saw a really well-dressed guy at the bar, and just as I was like, “Oh hey boo,” he began to twerk on another guy. My gaydar is mal-functioning.
There is a plus side to this situation. I drank and didn’t pop-off, so that’s great news! I’m not a complete Amanda Bynes mess! I’m just going to own loving wine and chillin:
When I find a new TV show that is amazing, I fall into a trance. I eat up episodes like crazy. Netflix was created for people like me. Those that say “limits? what are those? I’m gonna watch all season TODAY.” There have only been a handful of television shows that have blown me away, crafted perfectly and keeps my attention. And I’m not talking straight up comedies, those are too easy to take in and watch over and over again. I’m talking more hardcore drama/dramedy types that suck my soul. I’ve lost sleep over the following:
Six Feet Under (I watched this via Netflix discs, the day I’d get new discs I would not sleep. I went to class in a hoodie and glasses)
The first season of Roswell (changed my life in 8th grade! Still the same magic when I re-watch it on Netflix)
Dexter (love the concept and the tragic soul that is Dexter. I need to catch up on seasons and wrap this bitch up…as it’s now in it’s final season)
Weeds (also another Netflix binge. This show has the sense of humor I love, a little on the dark side).
Mad Men (the mess that is Don Draper is one of the best things on TV).I kept seeing ads on Netflix for the new original series “Orange Is the New Black.” All I saw was “prison” and “from the creator of Weeds.” I was sold. All 13 episodes are available online, since July 11. I literally watched all 13 episodes in one sitting, I saw the sun come up.
This show is in one word AMAZING! It has a blend of everything I love: tragedy, sarcasm, complex characters, unique storylines, and flawed protagonists. There is something for everyone who watches this, you’ll find the characters you root for and how you identify yourself and the ones you hate.
This show is great in that it’s a show made by a woman, with the majority of the cast being women. Women of all backgrounds, a truly “diverse” group.
The show is based on a memoir written by Piper Kerman, basically a story about her time in a women’s prison. The show’s lead character, Piper Chapman, has to serve a 15 month prison sentence in upstate New York. She basically gets caught moving drug money for her girlfriend, who is an international drug cartel. After many years, post-drug and post-girlfriend time, Piper is engaged to Larry (a dude) and has a new life…but then is summoned to prison to pay her debt for her past.
Piper enters prison and from there, we meet a bunch of interesting people. Everyone from a Russian cook, a transsexual woman, a mother and daughter both locked up, an uber Christian, “crazy eyes,” a sick and twisted officer they call “Pornstache,” and tons more. One of my favorite things that the show does, is the flashback scenes. So each episode they take an inmate’s story of how they got to prison. It gives the viewer this extra peek into each person’s life.
The show is beautifully done, and I’ll be counting down the days for season 2 (which it has already been renewed). Not only is the story, characters, writing, everything the best, but also I fell in love with one of the correctional officers. When you watch the show just remember BENNETT. He’s a peg leg CO with a heart of gold and falls for one of the inmates. TRUE LOVE that is flawed…those are the love stories I root for, fuck that Notebook shit.
I CAN’T OBSESS MORE OVER THIS SHOW, THAT’S WHY THIS IS IN CAPS. WATCH THIS SHOW AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT THEN YOU PROBABLY LIKE STUFF LIKE BURN NOTICE THAT NO ONE COOL WATCHES.
Stefanie had previously posted her goals and plans for this summer. There will be a lot of shenanigans, adventures, and drinking. As a self-identified Northwest gal, I go NUTS when the sun goes out. I get drunk with happiness and say “yes” to life. If I could kiss a Portland summer on the mouth, I would. Because of Summer, I understand Taylor Swift songs. How I feel about summer, because summer can get it:
Below is a list of self-care and summer must-have things I will need. All I know is Northwest life, we don’t see the sun here. If I get too over-heated, I might melt like the witch in The Wizard of Oz. It is important I stay on my game with these life choices:
Stay hydrated like a boss. Drink water with lemon, mint, and cucumber. This is a nice detox remedy and it tastes fabulous. Regal people drink water like this, and so should you.
Sunglasses. I have an array of sunglasses, but I always get ones that compliment my face shape. I have a round face so I stay the hell away from round frames. I get angular ones that make my face look less like the moon. Always stick with brown or black. They go with erry’thang.
Vitamin D- As I had mentioned before, I take lots of Vitamin D. One of the wonderful side effects of taking vitamin D includes being darker. That’s right. I’m a shade or two darker. Vitamin D makes your skin absorb sunlight. Take advantage of the sun being out and proud!
Vitamin B12– I’ve heard there is evidence this helps with hangovers. Let’s keep it real, I will be engaging in day-drinking. We have a Vegas trip planed, and best believe I will have dranks, on dranks, on dranks. Get the chewable kind so it is absorbed better by your body.
Go-to colors I’m feeling for summer: Sky blue, lavender, black, yellow. I don’t know why. I’m just feeling it, and they look dope against tan skin.
A legit playlist for cruising with your friends.
Nacho supplies. All of my lady friends eat like hungry, hungry, hippos. I love them, but it’s true. I include myself in this as well. Being hungry makes people grumpy, and I don’t want any fiesta-ruiners.
BB cream– Evens skin-tone WHILE blocking the sun for you! A+! Lobster skin isn’t attractive!
Denim Jackets– For the occasional breezy night.
A group of gal-pals you trust. They will be honest with you (“no girl, he’s ugly”), or hold your hand if you get too drunk and decide you can’t walk to the car in your heels.
Summer dresses, by far the most liberating pieces of clothing I own. A dress, undergarments, some cute chanclas, y vamonos! You’re good to go! Fabulous and effortless all at once!
Large quantities of alcohol. Costco sizes are preferable. If you know you’re going to drink, might as well be fiscally responsible. Oh yeah, and responsible. Period.
Portable alcohol– Get the water bottles ready!
Delete your ex-boyfriend or ex-romantic situation. There is an air of romance to summer. You’re carefree without a jacket, booze is flowing, you’ll be feeling good. Then drunk you will think, “it would be great to enjoy this with a significant other. I wonder what (*insert pendejo’s name here*) is up to.” Dial responsibly ,girl. Don’t make your friends deal with your drunk and crying ass. That beautiful summer night will turn into dark winter rain.
I hope all of you find my suggestions helpful. These are my summer rules for myself. I’m sharing them with you all because I care about you, kid. Now be safe and have tons of fun! WOOOOO!