Thank you Spielberg


Duh duh. Duh duh. duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!


That was me singing the Jaws theme song, if you couldn’t tell.


I have been really busy the last few days, which would be my excuse for my lack of presence here on the interweb. But I’m back on this lovely morning with plenty to be happy about.


To begin with, I had my first good nights sleep in over a month, thank you ambien. I don’t take it very often anymore, but I do take it enough to know that I have to go through a strict regimen to ensure that there are no adverse effects (or injury to myself and/or others.)


Directly after I take the pill, I have to ask my roommate to hide every ounce of alcohol in the house in a very secure, preferably locked location. I then must hand my cell phone off to someone for safe keeping. I must make sure that my computer is turned off and unplugged. I close my windows tightly, hide any art materials; sharp materials; make up; electrical devices; food that must be chewed, and of course-my car keys. If I had the tools, I would devise a bed with very complicated chains and a bed chamber to ensure that I would stay put for the entire night.


I know it sounds extreme, but I have every reason to take precaution. Once, after going to bed completely sober, I woke up on the floor of my living room  to the sound of my roommate’s (at the time) blood curdling scream. After rubbing my splitting headache and opening my blood shot eyes, I got up to see what the problem was.  After only a few seconds of investigating I quickly  found that I had polished off 2 1/2 bottles of wine, half of which somehow was splattered across the ceiling. The kitchen was covered in shards of glass from not one, but 2 of our new wine glasses. Every light in the house was on and every door was open. Luckily, my roommate’s Cocker Spaniel must have been too amused with watching my late night activities to run away. I went out on the back porch to see that I had attempted to smoke every used cigarette butt in the ashtray. I went to the front porch and down the stairs to find several pools of purple wine colored vomit. That wasn’t even the worst part. I went to my computer to find a slew of instant messages that I had written to a guy I had just recently started dating. The conversation history looked something like this.


Carissajade: alskdjapaskldjalk;sadkja jksal;dalkkkkkkk iii h

Carissajade: Wherrre arees you?

Carissajade: jelhelllllllllooooooooooo

Carissajade: Alkaj  all the other peoplee sayyy hiiii!!

Carissajade: alskdjalklkj jhe’lllllpooooo

Carissajade: alksdj whhhy not here? adkj  djkl

Carissajade: its a psakd its a partity!

Carissajaded:  akdlk thisss isnnt carissoa its someee otherr perssonn

Carissajaded: juusst kidiong maybeee

Carissajade: Thpe paparazzi was at my dooor annd I toold themmm I loove u andd nw evry one is goin to noo!!!

Carissajade: ajksld;alsdkaj jk hellop

Carissajade: I loovvve u ajdkl;adk

Carissajade: Thhiiss isn’t Carissaaa someonne elsee putt thatt i dont knoww whoo


There wasn’t an easy way to explain that one.  Turns out the quickest way to ruin a relationship is a little bit of ambien, a midnight cocktail, and three little words that I can assure you I didn’t mean.


I will admit that sometimes my actions following ambien are completely my fault, as I do not follow directions correctly… namely the one that says “do not take with alcohol.” I also feel compelled to stay up because I hate feeling left out, and my roommates just get so much more funny once I’m sedated.  Which is not saying much since I also have been known to amuse myself by watching the “bobbling heads” on a still photograph. I don’t even know what that means. Still I should know better by now. I’ve had one too many late night swims and near drownings that I don’t recall. Last night, however; I did it right… and I feel great!


Another thing that’s got me happy today is that it’s my Birthday week! I know, there really isn’t a reason to be excited about turning 27, but I can’t help but getting a little antsy about a whole day that is dedicated to me. I will admit that the feeling has waned just a bit since I realized I’ve probably passed the age where my mom will come to me and tell me that I am actually a witch and I will begin to start noticing powers. Oh well.


I think though, I’m actually most thrilled about it being Shark Week on Discovery channel. There is nothing that I love more than learning about sharks, except for maybe hearing about shark attacks. Each year there are only 50-70 reported shark attacks world wide, with fewer than 20 of those being fatal. ..so it’s a little difficult to understand our nation’s  fascination with sharks. I bet more people die every year by accidental (or non)  ingestion of poisonous berries, and I haven’t seen a whole week dedicated to that. Still though, there is something intriguing about the notion of human flesh being torn to pieces by a fish.


I wonder, had Jaws never been made, if people would still get that heart pounding sense of dread when they realize they have  floated a little too far out into the ocean. Would every beach goer still scan the water in hopes of  seeing a dorsal fin, not knowing whether they would feel excited or shit their pants if they actually saw one? Would there had  been a justification for dedicating an entire week to educating the general public about a species of fish? I think we can safely thank Steven Spielberg for inadvertantly giving us Shark week.

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