When I was a little kid, I followed a strict nightly ritual.

My parent’s house used to belong to my great grandparents, so it was quite old, even when I was a child. My sister and I shared a pink tiled bathroom that didn’t have a shower so we always took baths. After a dinner of either cheese and crackers or chicken nuggets, I would spend an hour or so soaking in the tub, playing with My Little Pony’s or pretending that I was a mermaid named Christina.

After my bath, I was allowed to watch about an hour of television. I was never much into cartoons, so I usually chose to watch something on Nick At Night. I would sit through “My Three Sons” or “Leave it to Beaver” if I had to, but my favorites were the ones that had a magical quality to them like “Bewitched,” (the fact that there were TWO Darrens always confused me) “I Dream of Jeannie,” or my all time favorite, “Mork and Mindy.”

After pleading “tennn morrree minutesss” at least 3 times, I would finally sulk my way to my bedroom, where I would put on a long nightgown and a pair of socks, one of which I would inevitably lose at some point in the night. I then went around to each of the dolls and toys around my room, kissed them, told them I loved them, then made sure that their faces were turned away from my bed so that they wouldn’t be able to see that I had chosen a different toy to sleep that night. I always slept with a brown teddy bear that my Grandma had given me, along with one other doll, which was usually my Mork doll. What can I say? I guess I had a thing for funny weird guys, even at an early age.

At this point, one of my parents would either read or tell me a story, but my dad always had the honor of tucking me in. We would start with a prayer. If I remember correctly it went something like, “Dear Jesus, Thank you soooooooooooooo  much for everything. I love you soooooooo much. Please take care of my mommy, my daddy, my sister, my grandaddy, my grandmommy, my other grandma, my other grandpa, my cousin Andi, my cousin James… ect ect ect. Thank you sooooooo much for food, school, dance lessons, Mork and Mindy, Teddy Ruxpin, my daddy, my mommy, my sister, my grandaddy… ect ect ect.” At the time I was actually quite sincere with my praying, but I also have to admit that I may have been using my time with Jesus to evade sleep just a little bit longer.

In the telling, this part gets a little weird, even by my standards. Not creepy weird, but weird as in my nightly tuck-in ritual was more of a secret handshake between my father and I than your standard “hug and kiss” tuck in. There were a few times I can remember when my dad was out of town and my mom would attempt to fill-in but it was never the same.

Big hug,  little hug. Big kiss on the left cheek, Little kiss on the left cheek. Big kiss on the right cheek, little kiss on the right cheek. Leg hug. Butterfly kiss with each eye, and then lastly, Eskimo kiss.

He would then prop the door open with a large rock (my dad is a geologist so we have them lying around everywhere) and that’s when my real night would begin.

I would lie in bed, still as a corpse for at least ten minutes, or until I heard my parent’s shut their bedroom door. I had learned early on to keep a heavy stock of flashlights that I found in various drawers around the house hidden in my room. I would tip-toe across the room, grab one, then run-tip-toe back to my bed where I would either play pretend that I was camping in the wilderness, or I would read. Even before I really even knew how to read, I would make up stories to go with the pictures, partially because I knew that my parents (the cool kids) did in their bed.

After about 30 minutes or so, my dad would come in and check on me. Usually I was able to turn off the light and feign sleep quickly enough, but quite often he caught me in the middle of an intense Indian invasion and I would get a stern talking to, and be put back in bed.

Once I was caught or had grown tired of playing pretend, I turned off the light and genuinely tried to sleep, but even then it wasn’t easy for me. Life got about 3,000 times more tricky once the lights went off, because that’s when the monsters came out. Duh. I had to roll my self up in my comforter because I lived in constant fear that a monster would eat off my limbs if I left them out in the open. Whenever I went to the bathroom, I had to do jump as far out from my bed as I could get so that the monster under there wouldn’t grab me and pull me under. And then once I got to the toilet there was no time for wiping or flushing, because of course there was also the monster that lived in the toilet that would pull me in if I sat there for too long. Then I would retreat back to bed where I would eventually fall asleep, and dreamt mostly of cock roaches or the Jabberwalky.

As I grew older, I started losing bits and pieces of my nightly ritual. Five minute showers replaced hour long baths.  I started watching Beverly Hills 90210 instead of Nick at Night. My dad stopped tucking me in, and goodnight stories and shared prayers were replaced by a quick “goodnight.” All the toys and dolls were boxed up and stored in the attic.  Long, frilly, nightgowns were replaced with shorts and a t-shirt. Instead of staying up with hidden flashlights, I stayed up on hidden phones that I plugged in and talked on for hours on after my parent’s went to sleep. The monsters were still there, but in the form of worries about school, boys, and whether or not I would get a part in the community theater play.

In more recent years, the last remnants of my nightly ritual have all but disappeared. I’ve spent many nights playing board games, writing in journals and blogs, watching movie marathons,  and drinking until late in the night. I usually sleep in a t shirt and whatever dirty pants are in eye sight when I crawl into my bed. I don’t say goodnight to anyone, except occasionally my roommate or to the internet via twitter. I’ve spent most of my nights making sure that I’m too tired to have a thought, much less worries by the time I hit the hay.

The last few weeks I’ve been trying to get back into a ritual. I’ve gotten back into working out. I’ve started reading and taking baths again. I’ve refrained from drinking during the week. I’ve started painting and watching movies on a nightly basis. But still they’re there. Those damn monsters. My fears of life, money, decisions, and what the next day… the next year… the next decade will bring. I’m not sure how the normal people fight these thoughts, but I’ve made it my goal to conquer them once and for all.

So bear with me if I’m a little moody for the next few weeks, as I am likely to get much sleep until I figure out how. But for now, I’m going to get into bed and read the bedtime stories that my grandfather has written out for me. I’ll probably share a few of those too.

Goodnight world. And Let’s just hope tonight it’s a dream about my boyfriend John Cusack and not one about my current financial state.

And only slightly related, a scene from one of my most favoriteist movies of all time… The Science of Sleep…

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

Wowsa. When did life get so cray cray? Ohhh it seems about 2 months ago, and it just keeps getting faster and harder to keep up with.

This wekeend was one of my BFF’s graduation from GRAD SCHOOL! Yes, I have some smart mofo’s in my life. I was really bummed that I didn’t make it to meet up with a bunch of local bloggers, but when it was all said and done I just booked too much for one day. Plus after grad-party numero dos, it would have been detrimental to put me out on the streets, or even around people who don’t know me and love me unconditionally.

And luckily my friends love me lots. Although I’m pretty sure LA didn’t want to be my friend for about 5 minutes when I told a group of strangers about how she once performed an enema on me. We heard later that it started a very in debth conversation between a group of girls, and I’m always glad to be a conversation starter (or ender) so I don’t feel so bad. Plus I always let LA tell lots of stories at my expense, so all was equal in the world. Or something like that.

So we spent the majority of the weekend in Denton, and it’s always a blast to go back. Plus, (even though I missed the busting of it) she had a pinata with mini-tequilas and shot glasses in it. Have you ever heard of such a thing?! Have you ever heard of a more genius idea??? After the party we made our rounds to all the local bars, and I have to tell you, I did something that I feel very, very, VERY embarrassed about. Which, I can’t believe that after telling strangers about my enema that I had the ability to be embarrassed by anything.

The first person that I saw, and recognized when I walked in was one of my favorite movie bloggers. No big deal, right? No. I made a very big deal about it. I pretty much cornered him and oogled him and I probably would have told him my ten top favorite movies if he would have let me. But alas, I think he was very scared, and rightly so. At some point after I proclaimed my fandom, I took a nap in the car, and somehow woke up alive in the morning, although I am still missing a bit of my dignity, about 200 dollars, and about half of the items in my purse.

Speaking of graduations, my little sister  is graduating from college next weekend. I can’t believe it. My little sister is all growed up and she is so smart and I’m so proud I want to squeeze her until it hurts. Not only is she graduating, but she is getting a DOUBLE MAJOR in BIOLOGY AND PSYCHOLOGY! Seriously!? Even in my smartest days when I used to take adderol I couldn’t even get through a biology class, much less a whole bunch of them. Although I have to say that her love for bugs has really rubbed off on me.

 A couple of years ago my sister and I went on a bug collecting expedition which was one of my favorite times ever. We spent the day at my farm collecting all sorts of weird bugs and soaked them in alcohol and put them up on a styrophome board with pins. It sounds all sorts of nerdy but it was actually really cool, until I woke up in the middle of the night to see that this gigantic huge moth that was supposed to be dead was flapping it wings like a madman with a needle through it’s heart. I screamed bloody murder and spent the next week feeling sure that I had caused  some sort of mothman prophecy and that I was going going to go crazy and start drawing weird pictures and then, you know, die.

Oh I got way off topic there… Back to my sister. She definitely got the smarts out of the family, and she is making all of the men in the family proud by following their lead and getting her degree in something science related.

Did I ever tell you I come from a long line of scientists?

My grandad is a chemist and is one of the guys credited for inventing kiss-proof lip stick, and that is just one of the reasons why he is amazing.

Then you have my dad, the geologist. Besides giving him a free pass to wear tye-died t-shirts and cut-offs to any public event, it also means that I had the most awesome rock collection of any girl on the block. Also? I had really good stuff to sell. Other kids on the block were selling lemonade and homemade brownies from cardboard tables on street corners, but I walked around the neighborhood with a radio flyer full of hand painted rocks, and actually made about 4 bucks total in three years.

I’ve been thinking of taking it up again to make some supplental income.

The only downfall to the fact that I was brought up as a rock-lover is that now I have to lick them all the time. I know it sounds weird, but it’s something I have to try really hard to resist.  I think it’s because my dad used to quiz me on my rock collection, and the easiest one to guess Halite because it tasted like salt. Now I have the urge to see what other rocks taste like, and mostly so far they just taste like dirt. But one day when I find some rock that tastes like ketchup or cheese cake that no one has ever thought to taste, and I’l be famous and all of you will also want to taste my rock.  

This weekend also made me recall my college graduation, which was what I set out to blog about but seeing as how I have already novelled this post,I think I’ll save that for another time… So stay tuned!

Also congrats to my friend Julie for grad-yee-ating last week. You make me proud!

Oh and.. I still love John Cusack. ( I’m losing steam on the google searches so I thought I’d throw that in there)

This week though, I decided to dedicate most of my time to me and getting my life back in order. It’s not like things in my own personal life have gotten ridiculously out of touch, but I did need to do a bit of soul searching.

I cleaned my room, learned how to wash my face (with the help of Aunt Bitch), started working out again, and barely even took a sip of alcohol all week. Until tonight, of course. But with good reason, bare with me. And even after NOT DRINKING, somebody at worked asked me if “I had a good time last night.” I was like, “ummmm not really… why?” He then informed me that he thought he smelled booze on me this morning.

I guess it’s possible that since it was only Thursday there was still a little booze on me from last week, but seriously??? In all my years of drinking, I’ve never had anyone tell me I smell of alcohol the night before. Then I make a very controlled effort NOT to drink for a week and someone tells me I smell like booze!?!? Oh well…

So… tonight was kind of a big deal for me.  I’ve been involved in theater and dance my entire life, and have been doing improv comedy for almost 9 years. I thrive on being onstage in character… but I have terrible stage fright when it comes to actually being myself onstage in front of people. I don’t know why it is such a big deal.  I love telling my friends (and strangers) the stories of my ridiculous life over drinks and here on the web, but for some reason, I always completely freak out when it comes to public speaking.

Tonight I finally conquered my fears and told a story at a Story Slam, where there were several storytellers speaking about the same topic. Tonight’s topic was “A Date to Remember.” I decided to tell the story about how I went to New York City to celebrate my 22nd Birthday, only to have the city completely blackout for three days about an hour after we landed.

Here is a video of me practicing. I don’t know if my actual performance was any better than this, but it was definitely at least a little more polished. The other folks were all great, and I honestly felt quite comfortable once I got onto the stage. I think it was actually easier  performing to an audience than it is performing to a camera.

ENJOY!

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

I know I have been absenteeeeee…. But I am realllllly going to try to be around a little more! I miss yall!!

Per usual, here I am the night before the money is due, AND I STILL HAVE NO IDEA!!!!

I’m sure there are those of you who are going to tell me, “Sure Carissa, what do you have to lose? You’ll end up having a blast!” And you know what? I’m sure that when it is all said and done, that I WOULD have a blast, but we can’t discount the possibility that in order for that to happen I would have to be so balls- to- the- wall wasted that I wouldn’t remember it.

But I’m also fairly sure that there are some of you -who like me, are either on the fence about attending your own reunion, or decided not to go because you felt it wasn’t worth the effort or the money. I’m not even sure if this is how I feel. I don’t know how I feel anymore. I JUST CAN”T DECIDE! SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

Sorry for yelling. I’ve just been thinking long and hard (TWSS) about this one, and it’s a toughie. On the one hand, there are a lot of people that I would love to catch up with. I haven’t kept in good touch with most of my friends from high school and I think it would be real freaking awkward nice to see everyone again. Even more so, I feel like I’ve gotten to “know” a lot of the people who I wasn’t so close with by stalking their Facebook pages, and shizzles, it feels like I was missing out on some really awesome people back then. On top of all that, damn I look good and I want to show off! I kid… No but for real, while I’ve lost all this weight, most of the people I knew back then don’t even know I gained and lost a hundred pounds in the last 10 years, so I feel like that isn’t a good reason to go.

I guess my reservations are probably like a lot of peoples. I’ve heard that the 10 year reunion is kind of like a “show off” parade, where people talk about all of their accomplishments, show off pictures of their children, and talk about their career advancements. Don’t get me wrong great peoples of the nets, I’m proud of what I’ve done over the last ten years, and I have no shame at showing up single at an event like this. (although if John Cusack or Ketchup wanted to go with me, I’d be bout it bout it.)  I am aware that my goals are probably different from most people who I went to high school with, and that I’m not exactly on a “conventional” life path. I am perfectly fine with the fact that most people would probably raise their eyebrows at the amount of pride that I take in the fact that I have performed comedy, that I have been published, that some people actually read my blog, or that I am in fact, content being single. (At least 79% of the time.)

I feel that I have gone through so many changes since high school, and despite living in a world of complete (controlled) chaos, I like who I’ve become. I still have a long way to go, but for the most part (Yay) I’m a hell of a lot more comfortable with who I am today, and I’m a much over all “better” (despite my faults) person than I was back then.

Here’s my thing. I like who I am now. I like my life now. And while there are some things that I enjoyed about high school, I would much rather bring them to me, than take a roller coaster down memory lane back to that time of my life. I would like it better if I could magically just pick a few things that I liked about my high school life and apply them to my life now. Like the ability to wear overalls without people thinking I was a farmer. Or glitter. Or getting ready with a big group of girls before a dance, that was fun.

But you know what was WAYYY better than high school?????

Certainly not Junior High. That was even more awkward. I had like 30 pet mice,  wore nothing but vintage clothes, and really and truly believed that I could communicate with ghosts.  Which was cool, but back then I cared a lot about what people thought of me so I nixed out all of the awkward from my life as soon as I realized it wasn’t cool.

Let’s take it back a little further, shall we? Elementary School. That time of my life was made of awesome. I didn’t care what anyone thought of the fact that I wore Umbros and hand painted t-shirts everyday. Life was fun! I know it had it’s downsides, (like when I wasn’t invited to Brooke’s slumber party, or when some guy called me a one armed pirate because I had my arm in a body cast and an eyepatch on at the same time) but all in all, life was pretty care free. Again, I wouldn’t necessarily go back there- but I’ve been thinking about the 5 things from my personal Elementary experience that I would like to have in my adult life. So let’s do this.

TOP 5 THINGS FROM ELEMENTARY SCHOOL I WANT IN MY LIFE NOW!!!!!

My Tree-House: I had the best. tree-house. evah! While it wasn’t too big, it was perfectly adequate for my needs. (TWSS!!) But seriously, two of my favorite pastimes include making badass forts, and drinking on patios. Drinking in a treehouse would basically be the perfect cocktail of the two. Especially if I had cute boys next door that we could spy on. If that was the case, I would definitely remove the “NO BOYS ALOUD” (I was a poor speller) sign from the wall.

The School Cafeteria: I’ll admit it, while some of the best times happened there, so did some of the worst. I have a clear memory of walking through the cafeteria with my tray and crossing my fingers that someone at the “cool table” saved me a seat, but either way- fun times ensued. One of the worst times in my life was when my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Honzel, force- fed me green beans and made me drink her tea with red lipstick on the cup, to wash it down. But then I have to remember “The Game.” “The Game,” was almost as fun as the bug game. Everyone at my table would take an item of food from their own lunch, and contribute it to the community tray, then we would mix it up good, and each take turns trying to stomach it. I think it landed a few of us in the principals office… but TOTALLY WORTH IT! Maybe if I go to the reunion I will try to organize a rendition of this particular game… only maybe with drinks. IN ADDITION. Not that I’m as interested in these things these days, but do you remember that a Star Crunch cookie was only five cents?? Or that a NuttyBar was only 10 cents? Or that they served delicious square pizza??? #IWonderWhyIWasFat

Nap Time: Dude, this really needs no explanation. I used to hate it when my teachers forced us to take naps. I would do anything to resist the nap. I’m pretty sure I LITERALLY held my eyeballs open just to prove a point. But if my boss came to me now and told me “Carissa, you must force yourself to shut up and go to sleep for 45 minutes,” I would probably clip her toenails with my teeth. Seriously. Make me take a nap! PLEASE!

Recess: Another given. Fun and beneficial. Can you imagine if we got recess for thirty minutes every day? And I’m not talking about a cigarette break in the back of the office, but a recess where everyone was forced to go outside and “play?” I would be a thousand times more productive. Not only would I have the chance to hone up on my four square skills (because, yes, I was am-haze-ing) but I could also take out some much needed aggression on my co-workers in a friendly game of dodge-ball, or “tie your head up in a teather ball string.”

Talent Shows: I’ve talked a lot about this today, both on Facebook and on Twitter, and I was being quite serious. I’m sick of all these shows that showcase talent. You can take your “American Idols” and “So You Think You Can Dance” and shove em’. (Although I really do love SYTYCD) The real fun is where there isn’t any talent. I wish I had a way to post some of my early talent show videos for you… dancing to Debbie Gibson and Kris Kross… Singing to Night Fever… Lip Synching to New Kids on the Block. Wobbly Arms and no rhythm… THATS where the entertainments at. I would so spend hours making up a dance to Britney Spears, even today.

So basically what I’m saying is that we should have a talent show. What would you do? There’s no rules here.

And also, SHOULD I GO TO THE REUNION!?!?!?

2-The number of times that I’ve washed my sheets since I moved in, or any of my clothes for that matter.  (We don’t have a washer or dryer)

2-The number of times I thought my roommate LA used her secret powers to dissapear since I’ve moved in. (We have really weird accoustics in this house so I can never tell where her voice is coming from. It’s really scary when you think you have known someone for 9 years and you’re just now discovering she has the ability to dissapear.)

9-The number of times that our ghost has scared the living daylights out of me since I’ve moved in.

148-The number of pimples that I have on my face due to stress and poor diet.

2-The number of bottles of face wash that I’ve owned in my lifetime.

8- The number of boxes I have yet to unpack. Most of them have books in them, and it’s only when they are all packed up and available that I actually want to read them.

45- The number of times that I’ve cheated on my diet since moving in.

45- The number of times that I’ve said “Tomorrow I’m starting my diet again, for real.” psssha

123,433,123- The approximate number of Jelly Bellies that I’ve consumed in the last 2 months.

3- The number of times that I thought that our new coffee maker was broken and was spilling water. Turns out that I was just ambien-preparing the coffee late at night, then woke up and made it again in the morning not realizing I had already prepared it the night before. For those of you who are unaware, when you put double the water in the coffee tank, the water spills out a little hole in the back, causing crazy people to believe that the coffee maker is broken.

9- The number of days since I’ve been on Match.com.

3-The number of times that I’ve signed on to Match. That shit takes up a lot of time, that frankly I don’t want to spend answering emails from strangers. I have gone out with one guy a few times which has been really fun… I just don’t understand how people have the mental energy and time to put into dating multiple people…

48-The number of times that I’ve gotten out of my current shower and had morbid thoughts that I was probably going to slip and crack my head open because I don’t have a bath mat.

135- The number of times in my life that I’ve wondered if Paul Rudd is actually a vampire. (That guy never ages, seriously)

4-The number of times in the last month that I’ve had weird dreams that somehow involved the Mac guy from the “I’m a Mac” commercials. I have no explanation for this one.

50- (At Least) The number of wine bottles that have been consumed since moving into this house.

3-The number of weeks since I have last gotten paid. I’m going on no monies at this point.

4- The number of times I’ve said that giving out massages with happy-endings might not actually be that bad of a moonlighting gig.

3- The number of big gigantic ketchup bottles that I have finished in 2 months.

2- The number of boys that I was not actually dating that have broken up with me in the last week. One was documented here, which I still feel a little guilty posting about since I’m a really really nice person. The other happened shortly after. It was actually the first comment posted on that particular post…

I have copied and pasted it below for you lazy bones who don’t want to go and see it for yourself:

___________

Jake 1 week ago

_______

For those of you who don’t remember, Jake is my gay best friend/ex-roomie. He’s the one who used to blow dry my hair and make the “whheeee whheeee” sound when I wanted to overeat. He used to break in my high heels and would  cook me dinner every night. I miss him. We weren’t so much peas and carrots, but we were definitely something like ketchup and baked potatoes.

I miss the way he used to sing “la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la la la la .. ooooooooeeeeeeooooooooooooo,ooooooo ahhhhhhahhhhhhahhhhh (Lovin You, as performed in National Lampoons Vegas Vacation) No one, I mean nobody can hit that high note like he can.

On the same subject, if we break up, who will sing “I will Always Love You” at my wedding???? That is assuming someone will marry me of course.

I admit it has been hard to keep up a long distance (30 miles apart) relationship going, but I’ve had a lot going on… plus this thing goes both ways. I don’t see Jake coming to see me every weekend, or calling me every night. Isn’t the boy supposed to call the girl? Ok, Ok.. maybe the same rules don’t apply in a gaylationship. But still… I’m hurt.

Against All Odds

I thought it was a joke at first, but in the last week I have been getting numerous texts and Facebook posts that have lead me to believe that he is serious about breaking up. It upset me a lot, but it wasn’t until what went down on Facebook last night that I realized I needed to take action.

I have no idea how to do that thing where you screen shot facebook, but this is  how the status updates went down…

Jake ____ would like to officially announce to the world that I’m ignoring Carissa____. It’s been a long time coming…ooooooover “it”…whatever “it” is, or was!

Although this isn’t the first time that Jake and I have argued, it IS the first time that I have realized just how much of a serious problem us breaking up could mean.  Not only am I missing out on good times with my favorite goy on the planet. (Goy is my word for gay boy, duh.) But I am also potentially setting myself up for a scandal. It hit me like a thousand cactus pricks in my ass (no pun intended) that not only does Jake own the domain name for “CarissaJaded,” but he also has the sole ability to keep me from ever becoming president. Let’s be honest, I may not be the most obvious gal for the job, but I’d like to keep my options open.

So my response?

Well recently my aunt (whom I love dearly) has posted a few pictures on my Facebook page, which you may have already seen if you’re my facebook friend. If you’re not, feel free to add me now…

These old pics got me thinking thinking that maybe I should take you through a little hot tub time machine of my life… the good, the bad, and the completely awkward. So ummm let’s all get naked and go for a ride, shall we?

I don’t really understand the concept of baby time, so I have no idea how old I was here… but I’m going to go with baby. Maybe even newborn. I do know I was born with hair… so possibly?

Here I must have been a little bit older. Still have no concept of age, but it looks like maybe I was taking a first step or attempting it? No clue. Still, I don’t look so happy to be wearing a weird jumper thingie.

I guess I should count my blessings none of my baby-pics were taken with me in an eyepatch….

What appears to be shy and innocent, is in fact -never shy and innocent.

Ugh. Yeah.. I was a girlscout. Or “Brownie” or whatever we called them. Those cheeks are evident of the fact that I ate a lot of cookies…

Check out those Keds. And also that feather.

I wan’t homeless… this was just an “Annie” costume.

Things only got more awkward from this point… If you look closely, I needed to pluck my eyebrows at the ripe ole age of 7. Awesome.

(5th Grade) No wonder I didn’t have any friends… EEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK What was I wearing mom? What was with that hair?

Ok… this was probably 7th grade. With the exception of the overalls…  I think I had a bit of an improvement.

I don’t have any pics to share with you at this time of me in between the ages of Jr High and Sr Year… but just imagine an awkward girl wearing either Umbros, Long Pepe shorts, or vintage clothes that had no business appearing in the mid-nineties, and you should get the picture.

The classic graduation pic. I can’t believe my 10 yr reunion is this summer. What in the hell?

So yeah. Thanks for viewing my lame post. I have shied away from posting old pics mostly because they’re awkward and yucky and I hate the and I think you probably don’t care… But I figured they were at my disposal, so why not?

And on a very similar subject, some of my bestest buddies, my old roommates whom (who?) (at this hour I don’t care) I miss  dearly just started a website, Relive the 90′s.com but it doesn’t seem to be working at this moment. So what you need to do is follow them on their twitter here.. and when the site becomes available, submit your favorite pic/memory/toy/movie WHATEVER you love and find near and dear… It was up and running earlier today, so hopefully it will be by now!

Happy Wednesday people!

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

The aftermath: Although I thought this would be the worst ever, and it was extremely difficult, I survived more than I thought I would. While I washed my face like 13 times, and I wouldn’t do it again…. It wasn’t near as bad as I thought it would be.

Keep them dares  (or truths) a comin!!!!

PeeeeEssss: Some of them Youtubers have left me some creepy Dares via Private Messages. I think I should switch to Vimeo … HELP!

I used to be the kind of girl that watched all sorts of shows. In high school, I had a daily line up of TV that I would “just die” if I missed. Daily, I would leave giant notes on the kitchen table, reminding my father to push record on the VCR at precisely 7:00pm so that I would get to watch “Beverly Hills 90210,” “Party of 5,” (I would have done ANYTHING to be a Salinger) “Friends,” or “Felicity.” I would rush home from dance class to catch up on “Dawson’s Creek” and “Louis and Clark Superman.” Every Tuesday night I was glued to the TV to catch the latest episode  of “Buffy.” I even managed to schedule my classes so that I could be home to watch the daily disaster of a soap that was “Passions.”

It was only recently that I realized that most of my friends still have their TV rituals… and I do not. Oh there are a few shows that I still watch and enjoy when I manage to catch them (usually on TIVO,) but there aren’t any that I would change my schedule around to watch.

Yesterday as I was eating dinner, I sat down to watch the second episode of “Parenthood.” I had managed to catch the first episode (on TIVO) and had really enjoyed it. About five minutes or so into the episode I got up to check my email, and never came back. I thought about it a few times, but finally decided that I would rather watch “Star Trek” for the 14th time than get involved in a TV show. Even as I was clear in my decision, it bugged me. Why wouldn’t I give this perfectly adequate show a chance?

And then it dawned on me. I have developed a relationship pattern with television that is nearly identical to the relationship pattern that I have with men.

When I was young and care free, I fell in love easily. I would watch any old show that came along, and I would watch it with passion. The shows that I watched didn’t have much depth, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they entertained me. Most of the shows that I watched in high school, ironically ended about the same time that I graduated. Either that, or I lost interest when I moved away and didn’t have cable. It was the first time I realized that shows ended. That made sad. I grew up with those programs. I learned from them, both literally and figuratively. Then they were just gone, some without warning, leaving a big empty gap in my life.

Some of the shows that I watched in high school ended up in syndication, which kept my interest for a while until they became redundant. Eventually I quit watching them all together as my taste in television began to change.

I had to try out a few different genres before I really figured out what interested me. There was a time when I was all about the drama. I liked the shows that would leave me with a cliff-hanger, having to wait a full week to see what would happen next. There was a very short amount of time when I really liked the trashy shallowness that reality shows had to offer. For a while,  I was even really taken with educational programming, and stayed glued to TLC and The Animal Planet, for no other reason but because sometimes it feels good to spend time with someone who watching a show that can teach you a little something. Eventually they all bored me.

Then I found myself in a long pattern of falling for the more “quirky” types of shows like “Mr Show” and “Greg the Bunny.” I became obsessed with “Arrested Development,” and  “Freaks and Geeks.” They were the unconventional types of shows that didn’t interest everyone, but I saw that they had something from the beginning. It took me a while, (probably right around the time that Pushing Daisies got canceled) before I realized the fundamental problem with these types of shows. For whatever reason, lack of self-promotion or maybe self confidence -these shows never last. They almost always leave me are canceled within 2 or 3 seasons, leaving me without any sort of closure.

I have finally gotten to the point where I am afraid of falling for a show and investing my time in it. I’m scared that as soon as I do, it will go off the air, leaving me wandering what would have happened next.  Even the shows that that I love that I have been more been more faithful to like “Scrubs” eventually become finicky. I  hear one week that they have been canceled, only to be renewed at the last minute, and eventually they will completely jump the shark. (God Bless you “Scrubs.”)

I think I finally know what I’m looking for. I want the whole package… something that is,  for the most part- thought-provoking, funny, and with just enough drama to keep me interested. The problem is that you actually have to invest a little time into something to know for sure if that’s what you have, and that is down right frightening to me. I know that I will never find a show that I love if I never turn on the TV. I also know that no show is perfect, but there is bound to be a television show out there that would appeal to me long term.

Maybe it’s time that I end this ridiculously long metaphorical post and go watch that second episode of “Parenthood.” Although please believe me when I  tell you that you should read no further into the title of that show. I was talking about boys here, not babies.

I’m not a fan of ending a post with a question, but have you ever felt this way? and how do you people get over this (for lack of better word) jaded-ness?

Oh hells yeah, bring it on weekend.

Seriously. This has been one helluva week. I’m trying not to dwell on the bad shit and just remember that soon enough things will be settled and I’ll have a whole new set of problems to deal with.

I’m sure you’ve been wondering what sort of crazy ass shit could I have possibly gotten myself into that would cause me to be so absent from the interwebs, and when I do come around  tweet complaints left and right? (Because yes I do realize I’ve done nothing but complain the last two weeks or so and that’s not usually my nature.) (Sometimes, yes, I can be a nature-made complainer-but usually it’s in jest.) (I also realize the correct word for “nature-made” would be “natural,” but since yesterday was National Grammar Day or something I have declared that today the rest of my life will be “National Aint Usin Correctual Grammatized Wording Days”.) So HA! KELLYYY RIPPPAAAAAAAA!!!

And since it’s my blog and I can whine if I want to, whilst drinking wine I might add, that’s what I might do.

*I’ll start with the worst news first. I just found out that MY BOYFRIEND COULD BE CHEATING ON ME!!! Yes. Perez Hilton (that slimy cock-blocker) reported today that John Cusack is dating Brooke Burns. I don’t even know who she is but she looks like a man and I hope she gets herpasyphaghonnoraids something really painful that can’t be spread to my boyfriend… like a really bad hemoroid. Anyways, someone needs to alert the press that this is false information. Me and my Boyfriend John Cusack are doing just fine. Awesome, in fact. You don’t belive me? See for yourself.

Carissajaded and John Cusack 4-evah!

That pic was taken last weekend when we were just hangin around, eatin some cheese, watching Dumb and Dumber. Awesome day right!? I think we may have even taken it to pound town that day but we have so many times I can’t remember for sure.

Moving on. 

* Why won’t my stuff unpack itself? It has now been sitting in piles around my house for five days and I’m not sure what to do about it. I keep trying to use all the Jedi Mind tricks I know but they aren’t working in my new house. I’ve been contemplating sending a video into “Clean House” or whatever that reality show is called so maybe they’d come do it for me, but even they might be scared.

*My bank account is scaring me into thinking I might need to quit drinking so much wine. HAHAHAHA Just kidding. But maybe I need to stop eating or cancel my gym membership or something. After having to pay for all these moving expenses, I was flat broke. And then???? Yesterday we got our final gas bill from my old house and guess how much that was?  $800.00. EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!! FOR GAS!? With the amount of gas that should have paid for in a month I should have been able to light a match down the street and blow that place up. Then who’d be laughing? Oh probably still not me. Turns out we were on some average monthly billing program so now we have to pay all the accrued monthly something or another. It doesn’t make sense to me. But if right now, you have an image of me bending over and being sexually abused by Atmos energy, then you’d be correct.

*My new house is haunted. I’m not joking, crazyness be happenin up in here.  At first I thought it was just a coincidence that I have had two brand-new light bulbs blow out on me, but then other stuff starting happening. Of course there are the weird slams, bangs and bumps (no I’m not talking about my sexual life,) but on top of that- our ghost is all about turning on appliances. Like Monday night. I go downstairs and the kitchen faucet is running full blast. I certainly didn’t do it. LA had been asleep for hours. I went and woke her up just to make sure. And then tonight? Right after I had spent an hour trying to convince LA that we needed to get that lady from the exorcist with a high-pitched voice to come over and cleanse our house,that damn spirit turned the stove burner on. It’s not like it could have just turned by itself. It was on level 6. That crazy bitch of a ghost wanted to burn us down!

But in case you’re reading this: Ghost, I love you. I love most ghosts!! In fact I’ve always wanted to be friends with one! I say the word bitch as a synonym for friend! Things have changed since you were alive. Anyway, so far I think you’re really pretty and cool. Please don’t hurt me.

*Mi coche es un PEICE OF TURD! For the thousanth time this year, my car broke down yesterday while I was driving on the highway. I heard a snap, the power steering went out, and then I sat on the side of the road for about an hour-calling everyone I know to ask them what I should do. As of now my car is STILL in the shop. This realllllly is not helping my moo-lah situation. sighhhhhhh

Well I’m gonna go ahead and forget all of this is happening, and rock on with my bad-self this weekend. And by rock-on I obviously mean that I will be sitting in the middle of my bedroom, listening to sad tunes, trying to unpack my things using only my mind. That’s telekinesis Kyle.

Don’t forget to leave your dare in the comments, fool! Heart.

Yeah, that was me. Or so I thought.

Turns out I was wrong. Mostly…

I am laid back, and I will do whatever is thrown at me, and I am up to trying new things… just as long as I can fit those things nicely into my daily routine.

There. I’ve said it. It’s something I’ve been in denial of for the last few years. I haven’t even been able to admit it to myself, in my own brain. This week, however, I have had no choice because it has been repeating itself in my head like a big snare drum or my mother’s pet cockatoo.

I am a creature of habit. I must abide by the routine.

I haven’t always been this way. There was a time in my life when I was ok without a routine because my life required me to be. One day I would come home and eat and early dinner, and the next I wouldn’t eat until eleven at night. One morning I would have class at eight am and the next morning I would sleep until one.

I’m not sure if it was work, or starting to exercise  and drastically changing my diet, or just taking a little bit more control over my life that influenced it- but at some point in the last few years I became a habitual person.

Every week day, I wake up around 7am:15am and head to work at 7:30. I eat every day at 11:45. I leave work at 5:00 and head straight to the gym. After I work out, I come home, eat dinner, take a shower, spend at least an hour writing something and then either play on the internet or watch a movie. Every so often I forgo the gym and eating dinner at home, and will meet friends for drinks or go to the movie theater, but not often enough to where I feel out of control.

The last few days as I’ve been preparing to move, things have gotten crazy. I know for most people it probably wouldn’t be such a big ordeal, but for those of you who know me or have been following me for a while- let’s all think for a moment about the “hurricane” that is my life.

I know I just admitted here to all the internets that I do, in fact, have to have a routine- but there is practically nothing else in my life that is in order. When I say that my life is a mess, I’m not speaking metaphorically. I mean that the things in my life are a fucking mess. I promised myself that with this move, I would finally attempt to organize my “tangible” life, which is no easy task.

My car is a disaster. My jewelery is in knots. There are receipts, letters, keepsakes, and pieces of paper with random thoughts and ideas jotted on them- stuffed in drawers and piled in stacks around my room. I have had to do about 30 loads of laundry, and half of those clothes are 8 sizes too big and have been in the back of my closet for the last year and a half. I have at least 30 half-pairs of socks, which I just don’t understand.

I’m starting to feel a little better with each task that I complete, but at the same time peeps- I’m going freaking crazy!!! I’ve had to make several  trips to the store to get boxes or trash bags or cleaning supplies. I am extremely ADD so I’ve started a million different tasks that I haven’t yet finished, which just makes everything feel chaotic. Even when I’m not staying on task, I’m thinking about what I need to be doing- or most often, what I’m not doing that I would like to be doing.

I haven’t worked out in nearly a week, and I have eaten out (and off my diet) for nearly every meal.  I haven’t gotten to read or write much, and I have the opportunity to start writing for a really cool site and it really sucks that I haven’t yet been able to put the time into it that I would like.

I have been getting to bed even later than usual and I haven’t been sleeping very well. And now I have this pressure that I have put on myself to get my entire life organized- and I ONLY HAVE 2 MORE DAYS TO DO SO!!!

I know I’m not going to be able to finish everything, and that’s OK. I do want to make this move a new beginning of sorts. The last couple of weeks I have decided to step out of my “box”  and try new things and I want to continue to do so. But at the same time, I want to try to adapt to a more orderly “tangible” lifestyle.

I’ve realized that I’ve become immune to messiness, especially when I’m in good spirits. But when I am down, the disorder begins to suffocate me. I think this change could do wonders for my mentality. I want to take a little more time concentrating on the little things, and not so much time skipping over things just so I can live the way I’m used to.  Maybe instead of a “hurricane,” my friends will start to call me “tornado“… or “thunder shower.”

Yet here I am, venting to you guys in this non-though-out, probably incredibly grammatically incorrect post, because I HAD TO. I feel much better now, though I do feel slightly guilty that I have spent nearly twenty-five minutes sitting here in front of my computer writing utter nonsense.

Thanks for lending an ear, good people of the inter-web.

I most likely will not be back until Tuesday, and let’s all hope that by then- I’m a little more organized, a little more sane, and back into my (slightly adjusted) daily routine.

I think John Cusack (My boyfriend) will approve.

WORD.

And completely unrelated, there are quite a few of my lovah’s out there who have recently given me awards. Don’t think I have forgotten about you. One day, in the not so distant future, I WILL do an award post,