“The Gothic Bride” by Bhumika Sharma (Spring/Summer 2016)
Model - Varsha Gopal
“The Gothic Bride” by Bhumika Sharma (Spring/Summer 2016)
Model - Varsha Gopal
1. There are plenty of ways to enter a pool. The stairs is not one of them.
2. Never cancel dinner plans by text message.
3. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.
4. If a street performer makes you stop walking, you owe him a buck.
5. Always use ‘we’ when referring to your home team or your government.
6. When entrusted with a secret, keep it.
7. Don’t underestimate free throws in a game of ‘horse’.
8. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
9. Don’t dumb it down.
10. You only get one chance to notice a new haircut.
11. If you’re staying more than one night, unpack.
12. Never park in front of a bar.
13. Expect the seat in front of you to recline. Prepare accordingly.
14. Keep a picture of your first fish, first car, and first boy/girlfriend.
15. Hold your heroes to a high standard.
16. A suntan is earned, not bought.
17. Never lie to your doctor.
18. All guns are loaded.
19. Don’t mention sunburns. Believe me, they know.
20. The best way to show thanks is to wear it. Even if it’s only once.
21. Take a vacation of your cell phone, internet, and TV once a year.
22. Don’t fill up on bread, no matter how good.
23. A handshake beats an autograph.
24. Don’t linger in the doorway. In or out.
25. If you choose to go in drag, don’t sell yourself short.
26. If you want to know what makes you unique, sit for a caricature.
27. Never get your hair cut the day of a special event.
28. Be mindful of what comes between you and the Earth. Always buy good shoes, tires, and sheets.
29. Never eat lunch at your desk if you can avoid it.
30. When you’re with new friends, don’t just talk about old friends.
31. Eat lunch with the new kids.
32. When traveling, keep your wits about you.
33. It’s never too late for an apology.
34. Don’t pose with booze.
35. If you have the right of way, take it.
36. You don’t get to choose your own nickname.
37. When you marry someone, remember you marry their entire family.
38. Never push someone off a dock.
39. Under no circumstances should you ask a woman if she’s pregnant.
40. It’s not enough to be proud of your ancestry; live up to it.
41. Don’t make a scene.
42. When giving a thank you speech, short and sweet is best.
43. Know when to ignore the camera.
44. Never gloat.
45. Invest in good luggage.
46. Make time for your mom on your birthday. It’s her special day, too.
47. When opening presents, no one likes a good guesser.
48. Sympathy is a crutch, never fake a limp.
49. Give credit. Take blame.
50. Suck it up every now and again.
51. Never be the last one in the pool.
52. Don’t stare.
53. Address everyone that carries a firearm professionally.
54. Stand up to bullies. You’ll only have to do it once.
55. If you’ve made your point, stop talking.
56. Admit it when you’re wrong.
57. If you offer to help don’t quit until the job is done.
58. Look people in the eye when you thank them.
59. Thank the bus driver.
60. Never answer the phone at the dinner table.
61. Forgive yourself for your mistakes.
62. Know at least one good joke.
63. Don’t boo. Even the ref is somebody’s son.
64. Know how to cook one good meal.
65. Learn to drive a stick shift.
66. Be cool to younger kids. Reputations are built over a lifetime.
67. It’s okay to go to the movies by yourself.
68. Dance with your mother/father.
69. Don’t lose your cool. Especially at work.
70. Always thank the host.
71. If you don’t understand, ask before it’s too late.
72. Know the size of your boy/girlfriend’s clothes.
73. There is nothing wrong with a plain t-shirt.
74. Be a good listener. Don’t just wait for your turn to talk.
75. Keep your word.
76. In college, always sit in the front. You’ll stand out immediately.
77. Carry your mother’s bags. She carried you for nine months.
78. Be patient with airport security. They’re just doing their jobs.
79. Don’t be the talker in a movie.
80. The opposite sex likes people who shower.
81. You are what you do, not what you say.
82. Learn to change a tire.
83. Be kind. Everyone has a hard fight ahead of them.
84. An hour with grandparents is time well spent. Ask for advice when you need it.
85. Don’t litter.
86. If you have a sister, get to know her boyfriend. Your opinion is important.
87. You won’t always be the strongest or the fastest. But you can be the toughest.
88. Never call someone before 9am or after 9pm.
89. Buy the orange properties in Monopoly.
90. Make the little things count.
91. Always wear a bra at work.
92. There is a fine line between looking sultry and slutty. Find it.
93. You’re never too old to need your mom.
94. Ladies, if you make the decision to wear heels on the first date, commit to keeping them on and keeping your trap shut about how much your feet kill.
95. Know the words to your national anthem.
96. Your dance moves might not be the best, but I promise making a fool of yourself is more fun than sitting on the bench alone.
97. Smile at strangers.
98. Make goals.
99. Being old is not dictated by your bedtime.
100. If you have to fight, punch first and punch hard.
the hotter it gets the more i realize i only fuck with the summer superficially and in concept
First of all,
it’s Mom and Amá,
Dad and Apá.
It’s drinking chocomíl for breakfast,
horchata for lunch,
y una coca for dinner.
El paletero on weekends,
los raspados in the summer,
y elotes anytime.
It means eating mangos on a stick,
churros after Mass,
“Chaqui Chis” after Catechism
(y jugando en las maquinitas).
It means going to the buffet for special occasions,
drinking “Chocolate Abuelita” when it’s cold,
and don’t forget el café con leche
en la noche con el panesito on the side.
It’s learning your alphabet
en Mi Libro Majico
y Sesame Street
(pa’ que aprendas tu espelin muy bien).
It means parents working in factories
while going to night school
con la ticher, pa’prender mas inglish
and the constant demands of “traduceme esto.”
It means being 15-years-old;
a woman too young for everything
and too old to look back.
It’s growing up with la Chilindrina to your left
And la Malinche to your right.
It’s La Virgen de Guadalupe on your nightstand,
A Rosary in the car
y persínate when we get on the freeway.
It’s the comforting smell of endless candles
on the altar en el pasillo
(especially the green veladoras of San Judas)
and the 3 or 4 almaneques around the house
to make sure we remember to call relatives
en el día de su santo.
It’s Vicente Fernandez on the radio,
Juan/Ana Gabriel in your dad’s tocadisco
And Maná in your CD player.
It’s growing up singing to los “Biros”
Los Bukis and Luis Miguel.
It’s Grease on DVD and Vaselina on VHS.
It means laughing at Cantiflas and Jim Carrey.
It’s life according to novelas
And love en blanco y negro, like Pedro Infante.
It means inflating la pisina till you’re out of breath,
then filling it with cold water from the green manguera
when it’s warm enough outside,
and enjoying paletas de limón con chile
y red bolis en el summer.
It means carne asada with los tíos (every weekend)
y unas frias en el refri.
It’s uncles having too much to drink
and giving your primitos money to dance
to the tunes of old rancheras and banda.
It’s my primos en el Army
And my brokenhearted tías waiting by the phone (por si
llaman).
It’s going to la tienda de los Chinos
and buying three calling cards para llamar a la familia).
It means Día de las Madres el 10 de Mayo and
Mother’s Day on the second Sunday in May.
It means scraping your knees
to fight for the bolo at your primita’s baptism
and standing in line (shortest to tallest)
to get your bolsita de dulces.
It means staying up to finish los recuerdos
for your sister’s quinceañera
and your prima’s wedding
(which is followed by the comforting nudge of
“no te preocupes, you’re next”).
It means buying the materials in el suapmi
and stopping by the yard sales
(pa’ ver las chacharas).
It means an assembly line for Christmas:
preparing maza, soaking las hojas, guisando, stuffing, wrapping and tying.
Then eating them en la Noche Buena
as we wait for Santo Clos and el Niñito Dios
to come at midnight so we can open our presents.
It means road trips con el lonche en la llelera:
papitas, sanwiches, y sodas,
with five to seven people in the car
(y el portabebé in the middle)
on the way to visit los abuelos for vacation
and everyone saying “que grandota estas” once you get there.
On the way back it means carrying cartones con mecate as luggage
and paquetes de queso if they search you en la pasada.
It’s a new baby in the family every year
(y vamos a la Ross para comprarle algo bonito).
It means Dad and los tíos going to Home Depot
to buy madera for the new fence or tejaban
and living on the same street as your primos.
It means a good spanking
(con la mano, with the chancla, or the leather cinto)
when you’re travieso
prefaced by “te va ‘parecer Juan Diego cuando lleguemos a la casa”
and concluded with “te voy a pegar si sigues llorando.”
It means té de manzanilla,
mejoralitos y penicilina.
Vicks vaporú,
Sana Sana colita de rana
y vamos a que te soben
when you’re sick.
It means blessing before you go to sleep
(pa’ que no te agarre el cucuy cuando hagas mímis)
y que sueñes con los angelios.
Tan tan.
–Evelyn I Soto
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️🇲🇽🇲🇽🇲🇽🌶🌶👍🏼
Please read. Memories will start flashing non stop.
This legit made me shed a tear. Me pego justo en la niñez
Feels
Is summer still a thing ? Does warm weather still exist? Will it ever come back?
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. he wasn’t the only one. there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was
in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time. one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.
in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.
when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.
in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention. i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes. there’s no room for nice guys like me.”
i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?
he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. being friendly. i thought we were friends. but then, how many times had i thought that before?
how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?
how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”
there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.
when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.
i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me. he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.
"don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?"
when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say
when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.
but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”
they were
"she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her."
so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:
put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. that he just wanted her for a relationship. a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.
maybe she friendzoned you. but you girlfriendzoned her, first.
Is summer still a thing ? Does warm weather still exist? Will it ever come back?
It snowed yesterday and it’s spring!!! Fuck you Chicago!!!
Jk ily
But really….
ADELE BROKE THE GRAMMY IN HALF SO SHE CAN SHARE IT WITH BEYONCÈ
This is literally what happened

