I don’t know about you, but the last few years as my thirties have been looming over me, I’ve had to face a few harsh realizations. I’ll never learn to do my “nine” times tables without using my fingers, my left knee will always forecast the weather better than Al Roker, and unfortunately; I’ll either have to work out until I’m 65 and don’t care anymore- or I’ll end up working in Vegas as a Rosie O’Donnell impersonator.

I’m weird about working out. I do it in spurts. For months at a time I’ll get on a kick where I’ll be getting physical more than Olivia Newton John- and then I’ll get burnt out and my hard core workouts will slowly trickle into slow walks around the block. Or mosies, as I like to call them.

For years, I hated going to gym more than I hated doing algebra. You couldn’t pay me to enter a building where people wore tight clothing and made faces like they were having sex as they lugged huge pieces of metal and ran on a machine with no destination and when no scary person was chasing them with a gun. A gym used to be nothing to me but a sweat sauna. I thought that I would walk in and everyone would stare at me and judge me for my rolls of fat and for not being enthusiastic about doing sit-ups. I hated that there was a place that encouraged people to do sit-ups. A gym, in short- was my version of hell.

Now I see things a bit different.

Don’t get me wrong, I still despise going to the gym. If given the choice, I’d rather sit on the couch and watch a Hannah Montana marathon, but as I said before- I don’t really have that choice at this point in my life. I can still complain about it until my face turns blue- and I could will throw tomatoes at Tony’s stupid face on the TV screen if you make me do P90X, but that doesn’t change the fact that it has to be done. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy it. I will say that I still enjoy dancing and I love the way yoga makes me feel, but everything else? Is for the birds. If someone says that they truly love spin class, their pants are either on fire or they are freak-flying over the cuckoo’s nest.

I will say this though, as much as I hate going to the gym- I have learned how to thoroughly enjoy myself once I get there. And since I love you all so much, I’ve decided to let you in on my secrets.

1. Be better than someone.

Whether you are a newbs at the gym, or a novice at pumping iron- I can promise you this: there is always someone there that you can beat at something. My gym is full of older people and women who use the gym as social hour…there is always someone I can beat at working out. It may sound a little mean, but let me tell you- you get on a treadmill next to someone who is about the same level of in-shape as you, and keep a close eye on their treadmill to make sure that you are going a tiny bit faster and burning a few more calories- and it’s no longer a workout- it’s a competition. Within a few minutes you’ll want to break out in a full-on run just to prove that you can.

That’s kind of why I like going to aerobics classes. The minute that I want to keel over and die, I simply look around for someone who is half-assing it more than I am, and then turn it up just a tad bit. It doesn’t mean you have to work a whole lot harder. Just enough to feel good about yourself that you can do more sit-ups than an 80 year old man. Win. And it’s always fun to win.

2. Pretend that it is all a performance.

This may sound a little weird, but if you change your frame of mind a little bit- it’s a guaranteed good time. Rather than thinking of my work-out as simply a time to burn calories and firm up my jelly, I prefer to play a character. This will probably be a little easier for those of you with a flare for the dramatic, but if you can get there- I promise it will change your life forever.

As I mentioned before, I have always loved to dance. More than that- I love to be on stage and role-play. I do it in all other facets of my life, so why not at the gym? If I’m in spin class, I pretend that I’m actually a biker on get-away race. If I’m swimming laps, in my brain I’m actually in the movie Jaws, trying my damndest to out-swim old sharp tooth. When I’m in aerobics class, I am performing in an aerobics video. When it looks to you that I’m lifting weights, in my head I’m actually starring in a sports movie-montage. The music you choose to listen to plays a key role in the tone and mood of your performance. It’s your soundtrack, so choose wisely. Bob Dylan is grand- but he doesn’t make well for a well- played character, unless you want to go all Clint Eastwood in the gym. Not only does role-playing take your mind away from what your actually doing, but it also helps you to achieve a damn good work-out. You don’t think Natalie Portman lost 20 pounds by just sitting on her ass, do you?

3. Make it all a performance.

Sometimes, playing a role in your head just isn’t enough. In fact, once your in character- often times, you can’t help but letting it out a little bit- and it feels good. It might be a little daunting at first, but a lot of people do it. Just look around. Those dudes don’t HAVE to make the grunting sound when they’re lifting dumb-bells. No. They are letting they’re inner Sylvester Stallone show through- and you should too.

It doesn’t have to be overly obvious; you can just take it as far as you feel comfortable. For instance, when your walking on the treadmill and listening to a Hilary Duff song on your ipod that you don’t know the words to, mouth them anyway. Nod your head. Don’t be afraid to dance a little. This is the only time in your life when people won’t know that you don’t actually know the words that you’re faking. Even sing a word out loud now and then. People around you will feel jealous that you are having so much fun, which once again- makes your workout a win.

If you happen to be in a Palates class, don’t be afraid to stare at yourself seductively in the mirror. If you’re in weight aerobics, add in the hip shakes and shoulder bounces when you feel so inclined. Focus on yourself in the mirror, and just know that everyone else in there is focusing on themselves as well. If you’re running on a track, stop and do a silly dance. If you’re lifting weights and Bohemian Rhapsody comes on your ipod, stop and use the weight as a microphone for a moment. Stop caring what anyone else thinks. Working out doesn’t benefit anyone but you, so you should only worry about yourself while doing it.

4. Point and Laugh.

This is going to sound completely hypocritical after all that I’ve said before about feeling self conscious at the gym and how everyone focuses on their selves while working out; but your just going to have to accept the fact that I am, actually a bit of a hypocrite. But I would be even more so if I said that I didn’t enjoy making fun of people in my head a little bit. And believe me, if you follow my advice about roll-playing and making your work-out a performance, I can promise you that people will be making fun of you in their heads too, so just think of it as pay-back. And payback is always a bitch.

Besides, other than Six Flags, there is no better place in the world to people watch than the gym. There are all kinds of interesting people who have to work out just like we do. People wear weird things to the gym. They make weird faces. They talk to their friends about interesting personal matters. They do weird things with their mouths when they think no one is watching. They wear gray pants so it looks like they have peed when they get crotch sweat. So watch…. and laugh quietly to yourself as you do your own weird things. It makes time go by so fast, and it will get your mind off of thinking you are going to pass out.

5. Mix it up a bit.

Everyone always says to mix up your workouts so that you won’t get bored. That is not what I mean at all. Although I do have to say that that works too.

What I’m talking about though, is something entirely different. As much as you might mix your actual workout up, it’s still a workout. So to make things interesting and entertaining- you have to really think outside the box and change the other factors that play into your workout.

Try listening to something out of the ordinary on your ipod. I use my exercise time as music exploration time. Yesterday, I listened to nothing but jazz. Last week, I listened to history podcasts. When I do choose to listen to my same old mix, I have to keep myself on my toes somehow, so I decided a while back to put Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You up” in my work out mix several times, only I went into my itunes and changed the title and artist as another band that I put on my mix so that I will effectively rickroll myself at least once a workout. It never fails to make me laugh.

I also decided that since the girls who wear sports bras and other ridiculous work out attire, are so entertaining to me- that I would join them in making my outfit enjoyable to others. I try to always wear ridiculous t-shirts to the gym. I even cut the arm-pits out of an old NSYNC shirt, because it makes me laugh.

If your really brave, try wearing an early 90′s thong leotard paired with lycra leggings and an exercise belt. Then you’ll really be able to role-play flash dance! Perhaps the next time your in aerobics and your teacher decides to put on techno-music, you should get up and flick the lights on and off to make it like a gay-bar. Why the hell not? Your paying for it. What are they going to do, kick you out?

Well maybe…. But regardless, working out sucks balls- but I hope that I could be of at least a little assistance in making it more fun for you.

Shine and Marie have had a wonderful idea. They have called for women such as me, to write, today, about an issue that affects women. This was all inspired by the fact that the Criminal Homicide and Abortion Amendments bill was passed a few weeks ago in Utah, which I could write a whole post about, but I’ll spare you.

This is something that I’ve addressed briefly in the past, but feel needs to be addressed again is fact that there are still so many women dealing with body image issues and eating disorders.

A while back I wrote a post about my personal struggle with weight-loss. Although I didn’t go into the details about my eating disorder, I was floored at the number of responses via comments and emails from people who have gone through similar situations. I didn’t realize that there were so many women, (and men) who have struggled with eating disorders. I’ve rarely spoken about my eating disorder to the people in my life-much less the people on the internet, but my brief mention of it on this blog took a huge weight off my chest. It made me realize that if I had spoken up about it years ago or had been more educated on the subject- my own situation wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.

Personally, this is something that I’ve battled since I was about 8. I don’t blame anyone in my life and I don’t blame magazine covers or actresses. I’m not sure how or why it happened to me, but even at such a young age I was constantly thinking about the way my body looked and what I ate.

I started dancing at an early age, and I was always comparing my body to others. I know that it wasn’t intentional, but I did have a little pressure to be thin put on me by members of my family. I remember being offered a new bathing suit if I would lose 10 lbs and being coughed at at the dinner table if I reached for an extra roll. I also looked up to a cousin who was heavily involved in pageants. Everyone was always gushing at her beauty, and I thought that being thin had everything to do with it. I wanted to be able to borrow her cute clothes and for people to view me as “beautiful” too. I wanted to be a size 2 like my friends, and not a size 7.

It didn’t help that I developed fairly early. Most of the girls that I danced with were rail thin and had no chest. I was curvy and chesty- and I didn’t have a grasp on the concept that everyone was different. I always thought I was doing something wrong… whether it was eating too much or not exercising enough. People were always talking about dieting, but no one ever told me that I was normal. Back then, I didn’t have an understanding of a “healthy” lifestyle… the way I saw it -you were either dieting or you were fat.

By the time I was in Jr. High, it was already an obsession. At the age of 12, I was waking up before class to exercise on top of my dance rehearsals. I would spend my lunches meticulously picking off the grains of salt from pretzels, and eating about 8 before I decided I was “full”… and I felt proud that I had eaten so little.

When I started throwing up, I knew very little about bulimia or the various health effects it could cause. I’m sure we touched base on it in health class, but at the time, nothing mattered except for being thin. I was praised for my weight loss- and that was all the encouragement I needed to continue throwing up.   It went on for nearly 5 years before anyone found out about it. It probably would have gone on forever if I hadn’t been caught.

When my parent’s found out about my eating disorder, I know that they felt guilty for not recognizing that I had a problem and for praising my weight-loss, but it wasn’t their fault. If they had known about it earlier, they would have done anything they could to prevent it. If they had known that there was a possibility that I had a problem, they would have done their best to educate themselves on the disorder, and had a conversation with me about it- just as they did when they found out. But the truth is, there is no way that they could have known.

It was only through the support of my friends and family that I was able to finally seek help and put a stop to that particular problem. It’s been a long journey, but in the years to follow I gained over 100 lbs, and then more recently, lost over a hundred lbs by learning to eat right and exercise. Though I still have body image issues, I have finally gotten to the point where I have stopped obsessing about my weight.

I finally realize that there is no perfect, but I am perfectly content with that. I just wish that I had realized it earlier.

The shocking statistics: Approximately 8 million people in the United States are affected by eating disorders, 7 million of those are women.  4 out of every 100 women suffer from bulimia. 33% of these eating disorders present themselves between the ages of 11 and 14.

Eating disorders are rarely talked about because like myself, most people are embarrassed or don’t realize the extent of their problem.This has to change.

There may not be an easy solution for this, but the fact is- it should be talked about more. I can’t say for sure that being better educated on eating disorders would have prevented my disorder, but I can guarantee that it wouldn’t have gone on so long had it been discussed. There are always going to be societal pressures to be thin, but we need to do more to educate our youth about what it means to be healthy. Eating disorders need to be more than a paragraph in a health book. Children need to be talked to about the dangers of these disorders and how harmful they can be.

Talk to your children. Talk to your friends. Don’t be afraid to talk about it.

(Turn and face the strain)

Ah yes… David Bowie. I love that man.

I really do love David Bowie. I have so many memories as a  child dancing around to “Rebel Rebel.” I was a little scared of him when I realized that he was the same baddie from The Labrynth, but really, that “What Babe, the Babe with the Power” song really makes it hard to see him as a bad guy anyway. Then of course there is my all time favorite Bowie classic “Space Oddity.” It’s one of my top 10 favorite songs to do impression style, and I do have to say I’m quite good. (If you don’t have ears.) (That comment makes me feel a little guilty after yesterday’s video post.)

Anyway, the real reason I bring him up is because David Bowie is solely responsible for the fact that I cannot say the word “Change” without getting “Changes” stuck in my brain. I don’t mind really, except for it leads to sudden outbursts in the middle of serious conversation. I guess it could be worse. At least it’s a good song.

So change… There’s been a lot of it in my life lately. I moved. I have a new roommate, LA, who is actually an old roommate and it seems to working out fabulously so far. I’ve met a lot of cool new people lately, which is always refreshing. I’ve had to adapt to ants all over my house and in my cereal, which is not so awesome.

But most recently? I got offered a new job. And I took it!

I’m really excited about it. I’m really gonna miss the peeps I currently work with, and it’s not that I’m unhappy or anything… but change seems to be a good thing right now. Plus the new gig is about a mile from my new house (vs. thirty) and my crazy hyperchondriac ass is finally going to be able to rock some health insurance. This is a really really good thing when you consider that I do things like get  recreationally tasered or stair surf on a regular basis.

Then again there are some things that never change.

For instance.

*This weekend I saw Hot Tub Time Machine. Amazing. I’m still in love with my boyfriend John Cusack, even more than ever… Plus I got to see his ass for a split second which made my life pretty much complete. Also, if you’re on the fence about seeing this one, it really is hilarious. All things Cusack aside, even if he wasn’t in it- I would recommend it to you. I would probably even reccomend it to you if Greg Kinnear (who I think is the bee’s elbows, or whatever the opposite of bee’s knees is) played JC’s role.

*I may have told you this before, but I’ve been disappointed on every single birthday of my life. I always think that this will be the year that my mom tells me I am actually a witch and that I have powers. It hasn’t happened yet. But I have taught myself tarot, (half assedly) and I have tried to tune up my psychic abilties… but thus far I think I’m a failure. This past weekend I went to a Medieval Fair (in Sucklahoma) and even though it was cold and rainy, I got so excited when I saw all the fortune tellers. I didn’t actually get my fortune told, but it did remind me that my REAL goal in life is to have witch powers. So if there are 3 ladies out there who want to join my coven, I’m game. We can be those weirdos and go “Craft” on all of our enemies. Or at least give them a bad case of ringworm.

Ever since I’ve moved I have been a major-la-dee-slacker when it comes to working out. My drive home from work  is nearly 45 minutes, and by the time I get home I’m so tired, irritated with traffic, and hungry that all I want to do is eat a few chips and salsa, or what ever I can find in the pantry that’s not covered with ants (I miss my gay roommate’s cooking!!!!!) and veg out.  It seems to be a little bit easier to be lazy now that I’m living back with LA.

Back in college LA and I were constantly fighting for the chance to out-laze each other. We always did that thing where one of us (usually LA) would act like she was dying and needed help. I would sit in my room pretending that I couldn’t hear it for a good twenty minutes, until the yelling finally made me a little worried, so I would run to her room just to find out that she wanted me to turn off her light or hand her something that wasn’t in arms reach. Over the years, I ‘ve learned how to play this game as well. You might say that the grasshopper has become the master… or however that saying goes.

Tonight’s events were the perfect example. After 90 minutes of not being lazy in Bikram Yoga, we decided to celebrate our recent activity by watching “Brothers.” I actually prefer to say we were watching “Jake Gyllenhall,” because that is frankly all I cared about.  We were both already settled on the couches when we realized that the remote wasn’t working. Of couese neither of us had the energy and were too stubborn to get off our asses to push the play button on the dvd player. So we sat listening to the most depressing menu song in the world for a good 40 minutes. We didn’t even talk about it out loud. We did so via facebook status updates.

Eventually my need for a snack broke me and I said something to the likes of “FUCKSHITDAMNIT YOU LAZY FOOL I”LL MAKE SOME POPCORN.” LA said she would get up too since she had to pee. So after a dramatic count of three we both got our asses off the couch, made some popcorn and then got settled again, only to realize the damn “play” button STILL NEEDED TO BE PUSHED!

So yeah.

That’s how my night played out.

Next time I’ll win. It’ll be epic.

For more stickies, be sure to check out Supah Mommy’s page!!!

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I am still planning on posting about each of them, but I figure I’ll start with the one that was both asked the most, and the one that will be the most difficult to recount.

So here it is for those of you who were curious: the story of how I was almost a contestant on The Biggest Loser (though it is not nearly as exciting as it sounds.)  I really hope I’m not gonna have NBC on my ass for talking about it, but I’m pretty sure that I’m in the clear after all this time.

I suppose I should start this with a little background. This is pretty much the story that I had to tell a million times during the audition process, so I suppose it is pretty pertinent.

I was never one of those kids who could eat whatever they wanted. I started watching my weight around the age of 10, and even more so when I got more into dance. It wasn’t that I was ever really “big” per se, it just didn’t come as easily to me as it did to others, or at least that’s the way it felt back then. I remember being in dance class and having to wear two piece outfits and feeling completely uncomfortable.

The older I got, the more uncomfortable I was with my body. We had to do monthly weigh-ins at dance, and there was nothing that plagued me more than the thought of gaining a pound or two and having it announced to everyone. Eventually my body image problems escalated into a full-fledged eating disorder. I am not going to go into details now, that might be better fodder for a TMI post, but let’s just say that eventually it got out of hand. Right before college I decided it was time to seek help.

I started out college as a dance major, which meant that I spent a lot of time in front of mirrors. At the same time I was trying to put a stop to my eating disorder, which consequently (and rightly so) made me gain weight. I knew that if I wanted to quit being destructive to myself, I would have to stop spending so much time examining myself.

I quit dance. I pretty much quit exercising altogether. I started eating and held it down. I learned to enjoy life without worrying about food and exercise and what people thought about the way I looked. I drank a lot. I ate horribly because I grew up being a terribly picky eater and really didn’t know any better.

And you know what? I had a fucking blast.

I was conscious, even at the time, that I was gaining weight at a rapid pace, but at the same time- for the first time that I could remember- I was really happy. I found new passions and I met people who didn’t talk obsess about their appearance. I found out that people liked me for more than my appearance.  I am aware now that I switched out one destructive behavior for another, but looking back- I really have no regrets. I don’t think that I’d ever be where I am now without going through that stage. I wish it could have been avoided but it wasn’t, and I’m a better person for it.

My first year after college, things started to get a little more difficult for me. I knew that I had gone to the other extreme, and I knew that I had to do something about it if I wanted to be healthy or if I wanted to live, for that matter. I noticed that people started treating me different because of my size. People can be really mean, and although I usually held my head high and shook it off, it hurt. Bad.

I’m a relatively small person (5’2″, or 5’3″ if you’re looking at my driver’s license) and when I went to the doctor and found out that I had reached 250 lbs I went into shock. I had completely avoided doctors and scales for the last 6 years, and although I knew I was big, I had no idea it was that bad.

I was working as an intern for a local on-line newspaper at the time, and when I learned that The Biggest Loser was holding auditions across from my office, I joked that I should try out. I had never seen the show, (it was only in the second season at the time, but I have still never watched it!!) but most of my friends watched it religiously. With a little encouragement from my closest friends, I decided that “all jokes aside,” this might be a good opportunity for me. After all, I did always want to be on tv (though not necessarily in a sports bra) and I knew that gut wasn’t going to lose itself.

When I walked into the first audition, I really didn’t know what to expect. I had filled out 20 pages of questions about myself, and was told that there would be a group interview. I remember walking into the restaurant (Dave and Busters, of all places) where it was held and being completely overwhelmed by all the… well the extremely large people. The majority of the people there trumped me in size by at least 100 lbs. I waited in line for nearly 3 hours before the first round of interviews.

They finally called my group of about 20 people into the “interview” room and sat us in a circle. I remember  being squished between two people and I was afraid that I wouldn’t be seen. They asked questions to the group and I was intimidated by all the loud, overbearing, (for lack of a better word) people fighting for attention. I didn’t do anything to stand out, I just sat back and waited for them to ask me a question directly, and when I answered I was nervous as hell.

And then after the interview as I was leaving the room, I tripped and fell, taking about 3 chairs down with me. I laughed and said something awkward, I’m sure… but afterward 2 of the casting people started laughing and talked to me a little longer.

A few weeks later I got a call that they were interested, and they asked me to make a video showing a glimpse of my life. I had no idea what to do, how to make a video, or how I should come across. So I got out my huge old camera and basically tried to do just what they asked. I filmed a little bit of my home life, some clips of me rapping at a bar, and made a spoof of an NBC “The More You Know” public service announcement.

After I sent my tape in I didn’t hear anything for another month or so. When I did, they asked me to go for another round of one on one interviews at a local fitness club. During this interview they had me tell my story and wanted me to cry a lot, which usually comes easy to me, but when put on the spot, it was nearly impossible. At one point the even wanted me to “dance” for the camera. I fell during this portion too… Not cool Carissa.

After another month that was full of phone interviews, background checks, and more paperwork- I was asked to go spend a week being sequestered in LA. I had to sign  (what seemed like) a thousand page contract and was not supposed to tell anyone where I was going. I was supposed to pack for 3 months, in case I got cast for the show.

The time I spent in LA turned out to be the most boring week of my life. They put me up in a really nice hotel room, but I wasn’t allowed to talk to any of the other contestants. I couldn’t leave without the accompaniment of one of the production assistants. Other than a 10 hour physical where they did everything but drug test my hair, and a few interviews and psychiatric evaluations- I spent the majority of the time dancing in my room with the air conditioning vent blowing on my hair whilst pretending I was in a music video. I started to convince myself that I wasn’t there for  The Biggest Loser after all, but for a reality show about the crazy things people do when they are trapped in a hotel room.

Every day they sent home more people. The production staff and casting directors all told me that the producers were digging on me, but I had no idea what to really think about any of it. Eventually the last day came around, and I was told that morning that in a few hours they would come to get me to take cast pictures and so I could get my t-shirt.

I waited…

and waited….

Finally, after several hours of pacing I called one of my favorite casting directors to see what was going on. She came up to talk to me in my room and I could tell it wasn’t going to be good. She basically explained that at the last minute they decided to go with another contestant. One of the producers was worried about the stigma that would come with having someone on the show that had previously had an eating disorder. She said that they really liked me and that there was a really good possibility that they would put me on the next season.

And yes, I basically went through the same process a year later… only to be told once again that “my story” wasn’t right for the season. I even got told at one point that if I could find a “bigger person” for the couples edition and make up a story about my relationship with them, that I would for sure get on.

The more this shit drug on, the more angry it made me. I am all about a little cheese and even a little drama, but I wasn’t going to lie on television. I also got sick of fake crying about my situation. I have been through a lot, but while I was a bigger person, I was still happier than I had been when I was sick.

To make a long story short, while the whole experience  pisses the hell out of me…  I still think I owe the majority of my weight loss to the Biggest Loser. After the last audition process, I grew really tired of waiting on someone else to fix my problems for me. I knew that if those people on tv could change their lives and lose  a ton of weight, then I could do it to… with or without Jillian Michaels.

And I have.

People ask me all the time “how I did it.”  I get really nervous every time I see someone that I haven’t seen in years because I know the question is coming. It makes me happy that people have noticed the changes that I’ve made, but I still get really flustered when it is brought up. I am proud at what I’ve achieved, but at the same time it kind of bothers me that it is such a big deal… even though I know it is.  I wish I had some magical answer. I hate when people say that their weight loss was just a result from working out a few times a weak and cutting down on cheese. I also get mad when people assume that I have had some sort of surgery or that I take diet pills.

The truth is, it wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. There are days when I feel weak and want to take the easy way out. There are days when I want to skip the gym. There are days when all I want to do is eat a pound of Reeses Pieces. And there are days that I do fall off the wagon and eat a good amount of Reeses Pieces, though now they are few and far between.

I’ve lost over a hundred pounds the last 2 years and there are times where I will see myself in the mirror and not recognize who I see. I’ve changed on the inside too, but all in all, I’m still the same person. I’ve been at both extremes and sometimes I am confused at where I stand. I still get really annoyed when I hear people making fun of  “fat” people, because in a way, I’m still that person. I can also now talk for hours about how addicting a healthy lifestyle is, and how much it can do for your mental state. I’m not sure I will ever be done with this journey. I don’t think it’s necessarily even a journey of weight loss, so much as it is a journey of figuring out how to make the most out of my life.

And there it is. Thanks for sticking with me throughout this ridiculously long post.  I actually feel better having talked about this, even though I don’t usually do so…. I think I’ll stay away from the serious for a while though. It hurts my head. Happy Humpalicious day people!

Alllright, allllright, allllright….

That was supposed to be in Matthew Mcconaughey-hey’s “Dazed and Confused” voice, just in case you didn’t catch that.

It’s Tuesday, and once again I’m posting for the first time this week. I don’t know what has gotten into me and Sunday nights, but I just haven’t been able to get any Monday posts done in a while. Oh wait, yes I do know what has happened. Sunday Fundays were invented by some friends of mine as a way to extend our weekend, and let me tell you-we really do have fun.

So I apologize for being a slacker on both blogging and commenting the last few days… but don’t blame me, blame my friends. And me too a little, I guess.

Before I get started on the oh so fabulous post-its, I have to touch on a couple of  things.

#1. Who in the hell designed Central Market and how were they able to make a grocery store into a freaking Bermuda Triangle? They put this fabulous little “healthy” grocery store right next to my gym that is determined to bust both my gut and my wallet.

I stopped in today just to get a loaf of rice bread, and an hour later I exited carrying 4 giant paper bags full of wine, a variety of smelly cheese, blood oranges (I have been dying to try one ever since I saw one at the beginning of Dexter,) pita bread, 2 types of hummus, home-made corn tortillas, luna bars, and of course a $10.oo pre-made salad. I literally cannot just walk into that place without spending $70.00.

GRRRRRRR

#2.  I saw “Day Breakers” this weekend and I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed it. I walked in not knowing much about it except that it was about vampires and that it had Ethan Hawke in it, and I left feeling completely satisfied. It was quite scary, had a few laughs and a whole shit-ton of gore.

If you haven’t seen the trailer, you may do so now. I grant you permission.

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Some may argue that William Defoe’s character “Elvis” may have stolen the movie, and I do have to say he did an excellent job.

But more importantly, Day Breakers also stars Ethan Hawke. As a vampire. This man was simply made to play a vampire. I don’t think he’s the most attractive man in the world (that would be my **boyfriend, John Cusack,) but this man is just chock-full of sex appeal. He’s the perfect mix of grunge, baby face, and sexiness… and the way he talks? I dunno why it gets to me so much, but I guess if I really wanted to get down to the source, it would be Reality Bites.

I could probably write a thesis on my obsession with Reality Bites and the effect that I’ve let it have on my life, but alas… I won’t go there. Not today at least. But really people. I can’t be the only one who is totally obsessed with the fictional character of Troy Dyer. The older I get, I have started to see the flaws in Troy, but I can’t help but still love him. I’m pretty sure his character uttered the greatest line ever recorded in film history…

“This is all we need… a couple of smokes , a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation . You and me and five bucks.”

Every time I hear him say this (which is NOT at least once every two weeks) and Lainie DOESN’T kiss him back, I want to smack her in the face. Hard.

But at least  she makes up for it later on. Sighhhhhhhhhhhh.

OK please excuse me while I change my panties. Just kidding. Kinda.

And now for some post it’s! For MANNNNY more awesome post its check out the host of this lovely blog carnival, Supah Mommy.

I’ve been thinking a lot the last few weeks about what I want my New Years Resolutions to be. I know, I know… once again I’m super late- but it’s better late than never, right?

So I’ve been thinking of a few goals/things I want to do/things I want to do less of in 2010.

Here we go:

*Drink less. I don’t mean anything drastic like quit or anything… because come one look who you’re talking to. But I do want to lead a healthier life style, and in order to do so (both physically and mentally) I figure I need to start to make more mature choices. Or rather not do as many stupid things. Because as funny as I think it is that I fell off the stage doing karaoke, even I know that is not something a 27 year old should be boasting about on the internets. However, I don’t intend to stop singing in public. That’ll never happen. Butttttt I am kicking off the year with a week of not drinking. Not at all. I’m no alchy, but I do enjoy my glass or two of wine a night. I’ll be completely honest, I probably wouldn’t start so drastically if it weren’t for the antibiotics that I am on, but it was an incintive to actually get started!

** I must note, so that you can anticipate, that very soon after my week of non-drinking is over- my new pal Austin over at Fake British Accent (check him out) and I are planning a very special blogging/drinking adventure. It will all be documented here. and there. More details coming soon, but it is certain to be an adventure.

*Read more. I have always been an avid reader, but somewhere along the last few years I have really been a slacker. I’m not even trying to set lofty reading goals here… I’ll be happy if I can get a few Jane Green or Dean Koontz novels in a month. Or if you have any suggestions for books that you love, feel free to share.

*Stick with the diet. You guys, I have really come so far. 112 lbs lost now since September 2008. I’m actually happy with my weight now, for the most part. Now I want to tone up, tone up, tone up! N0one likes a pair of saddle-bags, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been sporting some silly since my weight loss.

*Go to the frickin dentist. I won’t even admit to you how long I have been putting this off. I mean really, I am a disgusting person. I take good enough care of em, I mean I always brush at least  once twice a day and I floss every night, but still… I know for a fact I have at least one cavity. In all other areas of my health I’ve grown to actually like going to the doctor to put myself at ease. Like last week, when I found out my cancer was just a cold. Stuff like that. Maybe I’ve just seen “Little Shop of Horrors” too many times and have developed a severe case of dentistphoobia, (woah spell check didn’t tell me that word is wrong) but I need to kick it now!!

*Learn to drive these Chev-rolegs. I walk, do the elliptical, and even do spin class pretty regularly, but I’ve never been a runner. Nor do I intend to be… but after cheering on my friends at their half-marathon a few weeks ago, I figure I at least have a 5K in me.

*Get John Cusack to recognize the fact that he has no choice but to be my boyfriend. You may be getting tired of this, but I’m not gonna stop until I’m at the top of the google search for “John Cusack’s Girlfriend.”

That’s enough for me to fail at I think. Actually I think these are mostly doable. Except for maybe the running thing. The John Cusack thing is totally doable.

Oh, and one more thing that I think is gonna be kind of a toughie. I know I’ve said it before, but for the most part- I really don’t care what people think of me. I know I’m a big weirdo and people either love or hate me and that’s fine, but I think I gotta work on this crazy head. Near the end of last year, (you may have noticed from a series of debbie-downer posts) I went through a bout of semi-depression and woah’s me talk. Along with a bunch of shit that’s been goin on in my life, I started to get a little insecure with the way my life was going. I have never been like that. I started getting upset that I haven’t met any of my long-time life goals (becoming a SNL writer) or that I don’t even really have a clear plan. I’ve started to see a lot of my friends get married and have children, and they all seem to know exactly what they want out of their lives. I swear I’m not jealous of where they are or what they are doing, but I am a little jealous that they KNOW what they want to do.

I have come to the realization that maybe not having a plan is my plan. I think it is my path. I know I do need to keep with goals, but I also know that I would probably freak out if I got into a career that I couldn’t get out of. Maybe this sounds silly. Maybe it is silly. But it makes sense in my crazy head!

On top of that, I also have to realize that everyone just thinks differently. I think I spend too much time trying to get into people’s heads and figure out why they do what they do, or don’t do the things I want them to do. Just as I can look back at my last year and question some of the decisions and choices that I made, I know that I won’t ever be able to figure people out. People do what they need to do at the time, sometimes without a rhyme or reason. I guess they are kind of like piss in the wind.

And I think I can come to terms with that. Whatever will be, will be. Whatever happens, happens. And the 4o other ways there are to say that. I’m gonna learn to be cool with it and not let it drive me nutso.

So yeah, not sure if that makes sense, but I had to get that out there.

So here’s (cheers with my water) to a New Year. A successful one. One full of laughs and not so many tears. To you new friends and old ones to!

____

And on a completely different note, I’ve been thinking a little bit about the future of my blog. I’m  close to 200 posts and will hit my 6 month bloggaversary in a few weeks, and I want to try something a little different. I have often been told that I have a story for pretty much every subject (that’s just my life) so I think in order to get me writing about things other than John Cusack, I would like to ask you to do a little blog assignment.  I give you dear readers, the task of asking me any questions you want to know about little ole me (and I will answer with complete honesty unless you’re a dick) , stories you would like to hear extended versions of (My 100 things post might give you some ideas,) or any other subject matter that you would like to know my opinion on (or a poem about)…. and if I don’t have an opinion on the matter, I’ll get one!!! Just send an email to me at carissajade@gmail.com, or pop it off my comments. Thanks and I love you guys!

I also plan on doing a giveaway in the next few weeks, so keep your eyes open. I promise I won’t be giving away one of my decopauge art peices. Unless you want one I could decopauge something of your request.

I’m one of those people (some of you know all too well) who is likely to break out into song and dance anywhere. It’s not calculated. As soon as I hear a song that I like, I can’t help it. I grab the nearest item to me to use as a microphone, and I let loose, honey.

I really do think that theater camp may have a big something to do with it.You put a kid on stage and tell her to sing,  then tell her it was good, (because every kid in theater camp gets a part)  and after so many times, she really starts to believe it.

Don’t worry, I’ve been set straight since then.  I’m a mediocre very bad singer…. (you can quit telling me now, I get the point!)

I cannot carry a tune. But that doesn’t make me love it any less. I have realized that no matter where you are, it’s all about performance. It’s the emotion you put into it. I truly believe this.

I know there are certain people who don’t appreciate my ability to entertain an audience wherever the setting may be.

My mom, for instance. If you asked her what her most embarrassing moment of her life was, she would probably go into detail about the time she took me to the fabric store. She was right in the middle of discussing comforter material with a group of older ladies, when she she heard me bust out at full volume  with “the only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man”  from across the store. She acted like she didn’t know me until we were safely back in the car when she scolded me and told me that there would be serious consequences if I ever did that to her again.

I now use public singing as a “friendship test” of sorts. If we’re going to be somewhere together in public, there is a good chance I will I start singing  and it would be really awesome if you would join in, or at least not act like you would rather be on fire than be in my presence. You may be embarrassed at first, but there is nothing more liberating than a group sing a long at a hole in the wall restaurant in the middle of nowhere. (Right? I’m talking to you friends who went to the river! The Journey sing-along in  Health camp? Hells yeah!)

I have made venues out of grocery stores, movie theaters, zoos, and gas stations. But I have found a new favorite.

Parks and trails.

Oh yes. Although they are somewhat lacking an audience, there is really nothing like belting out a song while going on a walk. I discovered it a few years ago when I didn’t have a job and had nothing better to do than to go on 6 mile walks in the middle of the day. For the most part, you’re on your own. You can have your ear buds in, and can listen to any song of your choice. The best part is, there is no noise restraint. Even I know not to exceed a certain volume when indoors.

Even more so, when your out in the wide open, you can take it a step further.

You dance.

Not just a normal dance. You have to just completely let the music take you over, and what happens feels glorious. It started out as something I would do to embarrass my mother when we were on walks together, but now I just can’t help it. I’m talking about no dance that you would do under normal circumstances. I wouldn’t even like to do this type of dance (if you can even call it that) in a one mile vicinity of a mirror. What happens to my body is something truly worse than even the Muppet Babies could pull off. It’s like one of those exercises we do in improv workshops, where you just let the different parts of your body move without really thinking about it. I know I sound like a complete weirdo right now, but just try it when no one is looking, and I think you ‘ll see what I mean.

Tonight my roommates and I decided to go on a walk together. I put my ear buds in and went at my own pace. I started out belting a little Aerosmith, then switched to Death Cab, and made my rounds through Van Morrison and The Smiths. I had just started spastically moving and singing along to Mariah Carey’s “I don’t want A lot For Christmas”  (It’s November this is ok now) when my roommate, Jake, tapped me on the arm to tell me he and Denny were going to take the short route and head home to start dinner.

I usually would have just kept going without a thought, except for today, for the first time in months, it was pitch black at 6:30pm (fucking daylight savings) and the path we were walking on was through a very unlit patch of woods. And there was a giant full moon, which just put me a little on edge. I probably would have just turned around with the roomies, except I couldn’t shake the memory of me eating about 17 tortilla rolls and 10 mini kit-kats at around 4 o’clock on Saturday morning, and I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something to ward of that repercussion.

The following conversation occurred:

CJ: What do  you mean y’all are going home?

Jake: You can come too… we just want to get a head start on the chicken…

CJ: But it’s DARK. I could get raped… or murdered!

Denny: Just keep singing and dancing the way you are now… no one would dare to come near you!

And that, friends, is exactly what I did.  I sung at full volume and spastically danced my way through the woods. It all went well until I came upon a group of skateboarders, one of which I couldn’t see clearly and I thought he was charging at me. I screamed very loudly at him.

I’m not sure which was more scary. Me yelling at a skater boy to fuck off and leave me alone in an extremely high pitched yelp or my approaching them using moves and a pitch my dad couldn’t even come up with.

Either way, I plan on continuing my tour through the woods, but only once I’ve purchased some high quality pepper spray.