Monday, July 27, 2015

Rachel's Mom vs. Rachel

     It's been a pretty long time since I've had a competition/contest/thing here. As usual, my mom has inspired one, by telling me stories. Here is how this is going to work:


  1. Only people in the United States can enter the contest, because I'm way too poor to ship anything overseas. Sorry! Everyone is welcome to comment, though!
  2. To enter the contest, you must clearly vote by either saying "Rachel is worse" OR "Rachel's mom is worse", followed by your reasoning.
  3. Voting gets you one point. If your comment makes me laugh, you'll get an extra point. If your comment is rude to my mother, you get negative one million points and a pissed off daughter coming at you with a vengeance.
  4. The winner will have a choice from three relevant prizes. (Note: Do NOT click these if you don't want any spoilers on what the stories are related to. Choice one, choice two, choice three.)
  5. The winner will be picked by a random number generator online.
  6. The winner of the contest and the winner of this poll (my mom or myself) will be announced next Wednesday! (Ordering the prize will be done at the end of next week, after I get paid.)


Rachel's Mom
     This is the story of the time that my mom was kicked out of Mexico.

     When my mom was about fifteen, almost sixteen, she lived in New Mexico. Every couple of weeks, she and her friends would go across the boarded too Jaurez, to get shitfaced. Even though she didn't have a license, it was her turn to be the driver, so she wasn't allowed to drink anything alcoholic for the night.

     When they got into the bar, her friend ordered for her (because he spoke Spanish). The drink was a green drink called Poison (the same green that the band Poison uses on their album covers). It was hot so she downed the first one. Apparently, it tasted like incredibly sweet Koolaid. She downed a second one and the friend who ordered for her decided to go to the bar next door to check it out.

     Somehow, this friend bumped into somebody and military training kicked in. The police got involved before anything bad happened, but the entire group were saying, "Let's go! We need to get out of here!" By this time, Momma was on drink number three. It hit her when she turned around, so hard that she stumbled and sprained her ankle. She couldn't walk.

     "No alcohol!"
     "She's drunk!"
     "No alcohol!"
     "She's drunk!"

     The friend picked up my mom but the police started yelling at them. "If she can't walk, I'm arresting her!" The friend put her back down and played it off like they were dating, trying to get her down the street. As soon as they were out of Jaurez city limits, he picked her back up. "Put her down! We will arrest her!" The police yelled. He put her back down and they made it to the bridge to cross over to the United States.

     He picked her back up. "If she can't walk across the border, we are going to arrest her." Said the guard.

     "Fuck you! My fucking ankle hurts and I'm drunk and I'm not fucking supposed to be drunk and he wasn't supposed to get into a fight and I'm trying to leave!" My mom was angry, drunk, and clearly didn't want to walk.

     "GET HER THE FUCK OUT OF MY COUNTRY BEFORE I HAVE HER ARRESTED!" The guard yelled.

     They got her the fuck out of their country before she got arrested...and went back two weeks later. The same guard was on duty and watched them like a hawk. Momma took her turn as driver and ordered water, because no alcohol.


Rachel
     This is the story of the time that I was kicked out of church.

     I actually have no recollection of this because I was two, so this is the story as told to me by my mother (like her story).

     When I was two, my grandma was big on the whole church thing. She used to take my aunt and me with her whenever she went, which my mom was totally okay with. My mom had stayed home to cut the grass, because my dad is a lazy fuck who didn't do it like he promised and they were getting in trouble on the military base for not having it done.

     Since I was a toddler, I went into the nursery Sunday school class thing. At some point, I found a doll. (Sherry, this is the doll that I mentioned in your blog post.) I later named that doll "Baby Girl Jesus", for reasons unknown even to me. My family gave me all kinds of grief for it because "Jesus is a boy" but "that's why she's Baby Girl Jesus". I remember that part, but not the actual story.

     The teacher ended up getting my aunt, during the sermon, who then called my mom in a panic. "Rachel just hit a little girl! You've got to come get us!"

     When my mom strolled into the church, she interrupted the sermon (she interrupted God's word and I'm still the bad one, apparently), wearing holey jeans and covered in cut grass. "Where's Rachel?" The congregation gasped. "I can't believe she's not on fire!" People looked to the sky, expected to see lightening crash down or the ceiling start to cave in. "She's in the nursery. Would you like to join us? We have room in the front row." The pastor/father/preacher asked. "No thank you. I just heard Rachel hit somebody so I'm here to get her."

     My aunt was still with me in the nursery, where I was holding the doll I had found in the church.

     Now here's where we aren't 100% sure what actually happened.

     My aunt had been in an entirely different room when the teacher had gotten her, because I was hitting somebody, but my aunt saw me hit somebody. What that means to us is that I didn't just hit her once (like I originally thought) but I must have gone after this three year old girl to the point that the teachers couldn't control me and then my aunt saw the final punch.

     So, not only did I hit somebody in church, but I kicked the ass of a girl who was a little older than me. We aren't entirely sure why, but we're pretty sure it's because she was trying to take the doll away from me.

     The church gave me the doll and said that I had to leave for the day, but I was welcome back the following week (provided that I wasn't going to assault anyone).

Sunday, July 19, 2015

How To Survive A Period (for guys and girls)

     This post was inspired by the fact I feel like I'm being murdered from the inside out.

     General Knowledge:
     A period is what happens when a female hasn't gotten pregnant for the last month and her uterus decides that she must be punished. The punishment includes bleeding out of the vagina, cramps, intense hunger or cravings, nausea, headaches, tiredness, moodiness, an aching body (particularly the back), upset stomachs, and probably more. These are honestly just what I go through.

     Periods happen, usually, once a month. Some times birth control or health factors cause that to change. The average girl gets her first period around 10-12 and gets it regularly until the 50's or so (when menopause starts- AKA living hell for everyone involved). Some girls have gotten them as young as five (the youngest pregnant girl ever was five- Google it) and some people don't get menopause until super late. Because nature is fantastic or something.

    Fun Fact:
     Not really fun but I only recently found out that a period cramp is actually a small labor contraction. It's caused by all the girly organs squeezing and saying, "GET THE FUCK OUTTA ME", much like when a baby is born. Only instead of a baby, it's the lining of the uterus. So, basically, you're giving birth to part of an internal organ.

     For Girls:
    Obviously, use something to catch the blood. You can do your own research on that because I'm not a medical professional and there are certain dangers with each thing. However, if you bleed on your clothes or sheets, run it under cold water and add detergent. Let it run and soak until it fades out. Once it fades until there's just no more change in color, wash it regularly in the laundry immediately.

     As soon as I see blood, I take ibruprofen because I have extreme cramps that have incompasitated me before. If I haven't eaten within the past hour, I go eat, to protect the lining of my stomach and my liver. I take the ibruprofen regularly until I stop birthing out my uterin wall.

     Heating pads on the back and stomach help force the body to stop contracting so it relieves pain. The same thing goes for hot drinks, like tea or coffee. The hot drinks can also help with the exhaustion because they usually have caffeine in them. It's super important to remember to drink regular water though or it will eventually damage your kidneys and liver, plus you need to stay hydrated.

     A lot of people say that stretching or exorcising work. It actually makes it worse for me so I tend to spend most of my time in the fetal position, wishing I had been born a man. Meditation does help some, though I lay down when I do it because I also get a lot of back pains so that helps relieve the pressure, instead of sitting up.

     Like basically anything, staying distracted is a huge help. If you can keep your mind of being in pain, you will feel better because the pain won't be the main focus.

     Remembering to breath is a big thing. I end up in so much pain that I just hold my breath automatically. Forcing deep breaths helps prevent you from hyperventilating and can help relax your body some.

     When I get hungry, I eat. I eat right away because my body is as bitchy as I am. If I don't eat, I'll feel like puking my guts out and won't be able to eat for several hours. Even if it's not a meal, I get a snack. I won't go anywhere anything with dairy products though because they upset stomachs easily.

      Fun Fact:
     One time, I was so hungry on a period that I ate seven plates of food and kept going back for more until my mom cut me off. She was scared I was going to throw up from eating so much. I never felt sick from eating all that food (though I wouldn't recommend it either).

     For Guys:
     If she wants food, buy her food. Especially if she is craving something. If she gets what she's craving, she will be less likely to scream at you for something stupid.

     If she gets super mad or depressed, understand that she knows she is most likely overreacting but the hormones in her body are making her crazy. Do not call her crazy. You'll have to wait it out and take care of the problem when she's calm.

     If you ask if she's on her period, you deserve whatever she does to you. Full warning: There is a 99% chance it will be violent.

     If she calls you, especially multiple times, answer her. There is a good chance that she's stuck in the bathroom and either needs you to go on an emergency trip to the store or to bring her some new pants from the closet.

     On that note, don't question why there is an extra pair of underwear next to the blood-catcher she has chosen to use. There is a high chance she will not like that.

     Also on that note, if you have to go to the store, go the the fucking store, you stupid cunt. Yeah. I went there. If she's bleeding out of hers, the least you can do is keep her from staining anything and everything she comes into contact with. Don't expect her to buy condoms if you can't buy a box of pads, tampons, or that weird cup thing.

     ^That would be an example of getting angry out of nowhere. I'm not changing it.

     If you want to be taken care of when you're in pain or sick, then you should do the same for her. Yeah, it happens every month, but that doesn't change how horrible it is to go through. We don't just "get used to it" and yes it is "as bad as we say". If you say otherwise, every woman who has ever had a period will form an angry mob with torches and pitchforks and track you down.

     In Conclusion:
     I'm going to go eat a horrible amount of Snickers and probably cry about something that happened 15 years ago, while laying in the fetal position and birthing out part of an organ.