...

You remain
My power, my pleasure, my pain.

To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby.

Eww...

No me gusta ver televisión… No me gusta verla aún teniendo Cable… y como mil canales..

Veo una que otra serie, en Sony o Warner pero de ahí no pasa…

La otra vez estaba de huevona en mi casa… cambiandole idiotamente de canal cuando de pronto había un monton de tipos en tanga bailandole a una chava…

Lo primero que pense fue… “Chin.. un canal porno,…” Pero Nah, ni madres, era Strip Search… Un monton de tipos moviendo las nalgas intentando realizar su más grande sueño… ser un Stipper!. (No me gustan los hombres con nalgas… sry! Soy rara XD)

¡QUE!

Un día sacaran un programa de un monton e viejas queriendo ser putas…

Oh un programa bien malo llamado The Bachelorotte…

El de una vieja solterona que esta viendo que se esta quedando para vestir santos… y hace un ultimo intento por tener un futuro que no tenga incluido un monton de gatos y un departamento apestando a orines… y sale en la tele buscando desesperadamente un hombre…

O hay otro “The Swan” Donde el raiting depende de mujeres que se humillan públicamente diciendo “Estoy fea y gorda y nadie em quiere” y Ahí disque la maquillan y la visten y cosas así para mejorarla…

En mi opinión no solo están feas y gordas si no PENDEJAS por degradarse de esa manera en televisión…

Que idiotez…

Por eso no veo televisión---

Sic transit Gloria... Glory Fades

Keep the noise low, She doesn’t want to blow it.
Shaking head to toe while your left hand does the show me around.
Quickens your heartbeat, It beats me straight into the ground.
You don’t recover from a night like this.
A victim, still lying in bed - completely motionless.
A hand moves in the dark to a zipper.
Hear a boy bracing tightagainst sheets barely whisper,
This is so messed up.
Upon arrival the guests had all stared,
Dripping wet and clearly depressed, he'd headed straight for the stairs.
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch.
Unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships.
(Up the stairs, the station where the act becomes the art of growing up.)
He keeps his hands low,
He doesn't wanna blow it.
He's wet from head to toe, and his eyes give her the up and the down.
His stomach turns, and he thinks of throwing up.
But the body on the bed beckons forward,  and he starts growing up.

The fever, the focus,
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself!
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathe,
But now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.

She hits the lights,
This doesn't seem quite fair.
Despite everything he learned from his friends, he doesn't feel so prepared.
She's breathing quiet and smooth,
He is gasping for air.
This is the first and last time, he says.
She fakes a smile, and presses her hips into his.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He's holding back from telling her exactly what it really feels like.
He is the lamb, she is the slaughter.
She's moving way too fast, and all he wanted was to hold her.
Nothing that he tells her is really having an effect.
He whispers that he loves her, but she's probably only looking for...
(Up the stairs, the station where the act becomes the art of growing old.)
So much more than he could ever give,
A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides,
He waits for it to end and for the aching in his gut to subside.

The fever, the focus,
The reason that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of
It used to be the reason that I breathed,
but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.

Up the stairs, the station where the act becomes, the art of growing old.

The fever, the focus,
The reason that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of
It used to be the reason that I breathed,
but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.

New

Como ven! aki andamos estrando karita!! ¿kmo kdo? apoko no sta ree chingon jajaja
A celebrar poniendonos ebrios... (Ay ese "alcoholik mode" tiene k dejar d salir...)

Me fui... (a dormir jaja)

Alonso y Chentecito: Gracias por su ayuda chikos! c sakaron un diez jaja

Tequilas y Mezkales..

En mi casa están empezando a imaginarse que soy una ebria de lo peor (¿yo? No jodan, eso no es cierto jaja)

Papá: Andrea de casualidad haz agarrado una botella de tequila?

Yo: No papí… ¿Por qué?

Papá: Es que falta una botella de tequila

Yo: No papá yo no tomo

Papá: JA! Si claro

Yo: Ay papa que mala onda… (pongo cara de indignada y me voy a mi cuarto)..

Si, me vole una botella de tequila por que al fresa de mi novio y a mi primo no les gusta el mezcal (jajaja pinche ebria barata yo…)
Y resultado de nuestras locas combinaciones de vodka, tequila, cerveza y mezcal Sali corriendo descalza por todo mi fraccionamiento a ver como mi primo rompia antenas de coches, destruía macetas. Hacia rituales con el demonio y volaba…(WHAT THE FUCK!?) Y me jodi el pie…

Tengo que aprender a tomar-…. JAJA!

Que viva el alcohol etílico (No jodan no tomen eso jaja)

Mañana no es hoy

(Temo que si diga algo, se arruine el post...)

I Love You!