I'm Westernicated. But in a super fun way.

I received my first hate mail.

And it. was. HATEFUL.

I can't copy paste the message because it is too vulgar and I am a classy bitch. But here is the gist.

You are the very reason why I do not even consider dating American women. Your blog paints a picture of a classless, trashy, racist, subhuman feminist monster. You are going to cheat on your husband, never learn how to cook or clean, never want children, gain weight, and take half of any man's money. All American men should quit wanting women like you and get a real woman, like an Asian woman. You don't hold blankety blank blank blank to an Asian. Your second toe is longer than your first and your breath smells like tacos. (also insert the word "western" in a lot of places. He liked this word as though it was synonymous with disease-ridden and gingivitis)




When I found this guy on Facebook and wrote him a message, he wrote me back and told me I was very pretty. Now I'm confused, yet flattered. I don't mind being subhuman, as long as people think I am attractive. That's the most important thing, right?




Here are some reasons I am glad that I am me. (and by me, I mean Western Man-Destroyer Devil American Blonde)



1. When I was 11, I auditioned for the role of Annie and got it. It has been my dream role for as long as I could remember. If you are a fan of Annie, you will notice I say all the lines identical to the little girl who originally played the role in the movie. It's a few minutes long, but I get my ass kicked at the end. Could I have done something so amazing if I wasn't such a westernized and American bad-ass? I think not.

 
 

2. The Beatles. The best American band in history.

3. When I was 8, we went on a trip to the Guadalupe River. Here is a picture we had our river guide take.




Dad Brother Mom Sister and Me. Thanks for not giving me a body, Ma.



I loved the rafting trip in the spots where the river didn't look like a river. Any kind of rushing water and I would scream like someone was killing the Smurfs. I'm sure everyone else in my family's excitement over the increased speed was tainted by my little girl voice screaming cuss words at the "rapids". Once I accepted we weren't going to be maimed by moving water, I turned my fear to something else. We were being followed by little baby ducklings. They had blood on their minds. And maybe bread crumbs. Every time they would scream something intimidating at us like "quack quack", I would shout at everyone to save themselves and start trying to hit the young poultry with my oar. When my parents told me I was being ridiculous and ducklings more than likely wouldn't ravage my throat, I pouted at their insensitivity for the remainder of the rafting trip.

Could there be a Guadalupe River in another country? I think NOT.

4. Do you think anyone in Ft. Walton Beach, Japan would give their kid a haircut this awesome? Or a swimsuit probably bought at Walgreens that says Pina Koala? Again, no way.

5. Accidentally taking a video when I mean to take a picture. I have at least 12 of these in my phone and they make me look like the biggest idiot. Which make them fun. And Western.

                                                        (me and my niece, Heather)




In case you can't tell, I really just wanted to write a whole bunch of random stuff and this was my way of organizing it. I opened it with the explanation of my first hate mail, in hoping that you will all flood the gates of my blog with reassurance, sympathy, and money.

*He didn't really say anything mean about my breath or toes. Everything else was said.
*I know the Beatles are actually from Scotland.
*I know the Guadalupe River probably goes through Mexico, because of the name. (this doesn't make a racist!)