You’ve been abandoned, you say? You sure do look like it. It looks like you haven’t been loved on in at least six months…. and you have so much potential! You don’t even have any followers or anything? THAT IS SAD! How could anyone just leave you out to fend for yourself in this wide world of webs?

Well no… I couldn’t possibly…. I can barely take care of myself…. Blogs take a lot of work. So much maintenance, so much attention…

Although…

Well, I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I used to have a blog once myself. A few even.

What happened? Well I suppose what always happens. I got burned out. I got bored. I didn’t feel like I had anything to offer the blog anymore. That, and I discovered how addicting Netflix Streaming videos are. Oh yeah, I’m telling you. First it was just an innocent flirtation with Doctor Who, then all of a sudden I found myself printing out little Tardis pictures and taping them to every disaster picture in American history. Then I watched Firefly, then went back and watched the entire series of 30 Rock (again), and it wasn’t until tonight- halfway through my second viewing of Doctor Who’s season 3- when I realized how much I missed my little bloggy.

Yes there I said it… I miss my blog. Oh, don’t look at me like that… that doesn’t change anything. I still might be a horrible blog owner. I would probably still forget about my blog for days. I don’t know if I have the energy to pay attention to the other neighborhood blogs every day like I used to. I don’t even remember how to blog properly!What if all I have to blog about is Doctor Who and how crazy David Tenant’s tongue is!?

But well…. I did just move to Austin and I’m kinda lonely…. and I suppose it would be kinda cool to document my new life in a new city. But let’s take it slow OK?  I don’t want to feel any pressure for real commitment… Like I said, I just moved here and I’m really enjoying  all this new-found freedom… the potential for self discovery… the opportunity for change. I don’t need some stupid blog coming back into my life and making me feel guilty for not spending enough time on it.

Although, now that you mention it, I forgot how much I missed talking to you… You do need a bit of a makeover, but I bet I can handle that… OK well hells bells. I’ve never been a gal to say no. Let’s do this!

(PEE. ESS.)

I have been trying to get myself to blog again for like 5 months… but I didn’t know how to start. I didn’t want to be all blah blah life is hard, I have problems, I want to listen to old Death Cab for Cutie albums and cry… so I just didn’t write.  I decided that now that I’m in a new city, I can’t put it off any longer- and so I am posting the cheesiest, most stupid blog ever… AND I DON”T CARE WHAT YOU THINK. Honestly, if there is anyone out there still reading please know I MISS YOU ALL. It has been a crazy 6 months, but I’m honestly so ready to start writing again. I’m excited about life, and I’m excited about getting back in touch with the interwebs.

Hearts and rainbows and unicorn kisses til next time!!!

Carissa

I feel like I have so much to update your faces with, but I really feel much more comfortable when I at least have a few complaints to mix in with this rare “life is good” post, and I really don’t have much to complain about besides the fact that my face is covered by gigantasaurus Everest-sized pimples.  I didn’t even have a major freak out  when my car decided to be a little bitch and  have a blow out earlier this week. Which is a major feat, this I promise you… especially when you know my history with cars.

So yeah, I’ll complain after all.

I’ve always had an extreme love/hate relationship with automobiles and the act of driving. And by love/hate relationship of course I mean:

I love: 1). That they get me from point A to B. (sometimes)

and 2). When other people are driving them and I get to be in charge of the music.

I hate: Everything else loosely related to driving or cars. I don’t know or care to know the difference between a toyota and an escalade, and I won’t even apologize if by chance those are one and the same. I hate driving, especially at night. I despise traffic. I hate the way my mom drives. I don’t like sitting in back seats.  I hate the fact that I’ve locked my keys in my car like 14 times in the last year. I hate that at least once every three months I end up stranded on the side of the road, which leads me to call my dad crying who is 2 hours away… which in turn causes him to get upset and yell “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT!?” Which leads to huge fight. And mostly I despise that I have horrible luck with them.

I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have had more flat tires than any other person in the entire whole wide universe, twice in my life I’ve had another car on top of my own (either by landing there after a wreck or by drunkenly driving on top of it,) and my vehicles have had more breakdowns than Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears combined. My dad insists that it must have something to the way I drive, but I don’t think I can be blamed for the fact that Ford makes really shitty cars or that curbs keep getting in my way, or that drunks insist on targeting my car as their landing strip.

Luckily it didn't do much damage...

I feel like even the best case scenarios that involve vehicles, (which is of course gettin it on in one,) can only lead to 3 possible disastrous outcomes. I, ahem, of course only know one of these don’t know any of these  from personal experience but from what I’ve learned from the movies it seems to me that any time you hook up in a car – you either get caught giving head in a park by a cop, get pregnant, or if you’re in transit- then it is quite possible that you will experience death by a fiery crash.

My first car was an 89 Cutlass Supreme Oldsmobile.

Oh wait. I take that back.

Technically, my first car which I drove all of 3 days was a 95 Mitsubishi something or another,( pictured above). Shortly after the repairs were made from this particular accident, I totaled it into my house. I KNOW. And no I wasn’t drunk… I can’t even really explain what happened, except that I will tell you that I will never ever again drive a stick shift. I pretty much suck at life. My sister was sitting inside and said she thought it was an earthquake, while my dad sat on the curb and cried.

After that it took about a year and a half before I got the nerves and the vehicle that would make it possible for me to drive again. My parents certainly weren’t going to trust me with anything of value- so THIS is where the 89 Cutlass Supreme Oldsmobile (that I dubbed Cuddy) came into the picture.

It was a maroon, and it was the largest two door car you’ve ever seen in your life. And it was a pile of junk.

To sum it up: In place of air-conditioning,  my dad had installed a mini-fan that plugged into my cigarette lighter that did absolutely nothing but stir up the scent of stale cigarettes and rotting food.  It had a digital speedometer that you had to fist pummel in order to make it “work,” and when numbers finally did pop up they were backwards and up-side down. The car had no antenna, and therefore had no radio. Someone had tried to steal the cd player so it hung there by a wire, serving absolutely no purpose for the majority of the time the car worked.

The driver’s side door didn’t work, which was quite embarrassing when the cute football player from freshman history class walked me to my car and insisted on standing there until I drove off… which meant he got to watch me dive in and wiggle across the seat, ass out in a jean skirt.

The worst part about it was that Cuddy died ALL THE TIME at the most inopportune times. Especially before I got a cell phone. Like one time, it died right when my friends and I were trying to make a get away after toilet papering this incredibly rude older girl’s house. We had to go to her next door neighbor’s house and call for a ride. But then again, the fact that it died all the time was the precise reason I finally was allowed to get a cell phone. My parent’s started getting nervous after about my 3rd hitchhiking adventure and finally gave in.

Anyshitmobile batman, I could go on forever about my vehicle history, but I’ll save that for another day. If you’re a curious to read more you can always read about how talented I am at removing a tampon whilst driving. That was one for the books.

My original point was, I’m actually NOT completely hating my car today despite the fact that I recently had a blow out which caused me (or…erghm…my mother) (thanks!) to shell out 200 dollars, because of COURSE they convinced me that I needed two new tires. ( This actually has a story that is worthy of it’s very own blog post so I’m going to hold off.)

Yeah usually I would be pissed. But not today. Today I totally relate to those car bangers. Only maybe I don’t want to have sex with my car… but I sure could give it a hug right now.

You see, I’ve spent the last 3 months melting away because my air conditioning was broke and I didn’t think I could afford to fix it. I found out yesterday all it needed was a little frion, so I’m back, baby! No more sweaty pits! No more sweaty underboobs! No more sweaty fupa! I kid…

I’m gonna try to catch up on a million blogs over the next few days, and my goal next week is to get back to regularly posting, but I have learned never to make any promises.

*If you’re gonna get your nails done, you might as well go to a good salon. And I had to learn this the hard way. I rarely spring for an actual manicure. As much as I prefer having nails that glisten and shine, I usually walk around looking like I ate half of my nails for lunch. Which is why I was particularly upset when I blew 40 bucks on a really shitty nail job last week. I went to one of those walk in places where you don’t need an appointment and  got one of those new kinds of manicures, the ones that are supposed to last up to three weeks without chipping. Well I have no idea if they would have lasted, because the whole experience was just ricockulated. To begin with, the lady put the wrong color on, and when I asked if it would change when it dried, she tried to sneakily cover it up with the RIGHT color which ended up looking like poop on top of pink. One day later, I ran my poop colored nails through my hair, and one of my nails got caught and peeled right off. TOTAL SUCKAGE.

*I have been working at my new job for roughly six weeks, drink coffee daily, and haven’t cleaned out my coffee mug once.I’m pretty sure I’m a disgusting human being.

*I also haven’t gotten sick which makes me think I may have more in common with my roommate’s Basset Hound than I originally thought. Have I mentioned that a few weeks ago I accidentally left my groceries on the counter when I went for a walk? The dog ate 4 pounds of raw chicken, 2 raw tillapia fillets, a bag of salad and a bunch of uncooked oatmeal. This is reason number 5000 why I am afraid to be home alone this week.

*I’m about 2 honks away from running over a child in my neighborhood. I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing school got out this week because kids are running rampant on my street. One house even has a basketball goal that is set up ON THE FUZMUCKING street, and it’s not cool at all folks. I usually keep a pretty even temper when it comes to kids acting out, but not when I see a sitter or mom or SOMETHING sitting mere yards away doing her nails. I literally had to dodge a remote control car today and have come close to hitting about 3 kids so far this week. I would really hate to rack up that many points in one day.

*I realized something this week. I don’t have many rules that I live by, as I am pretty open minded- but I have followed one for my entire life. Never imagine a scenario that you honestly want to happen. Once it has played out in your mind, it will never come true. The same works vice versa. If you really don’t want something to happen, imagine it in every detail possible. I’m no expert on the matter- but so far it’s worked for me!

*I finally brought my bike up from Waco. My plan was to ride it to work this week, as I figure it will be cooler than driving my un-air conditioned car. Unfortunately, I somehow messed up the alignment whilst trying to get it in my car, and to ride it would mean turning my entire body sideways. And since I’m not even used to regularly  riding a bike (unless it’s stationary) this would be a fail of epic porportions.

*My 10 year high school reunion is next week, and though I did decide to go, I have nothing to wear. Nothing that fits that is. And no money… so I’m now taking donations. Let me know if you have something.

*Chiggers and Ants have currently declared war against each other on my ankles. I know not who will win at this point. I only know that I lose either way. HELP!

Guns don’t always scare me. I’ve shot them from time to time, and I’ve actually enjoyed it. I am from Texas  after all.

I do however, have an extremely deep seated fear of being shot with one, despite the fact that  (Mom, Auntie Linda, and P.J.) please skip over the next sentence) I once played a game of indoor Human Duck Hunt- a game where my friends and I shot each other in the backs with a BB gun.

I can actually pin point the exact moment when my fear came along, and as jokey as I might be whilst telling this story, you have to realize that this was, quite literally, scariest moment of my life.

A few years ago on St. Patrick’s day, a few friends and I went to a bar in Ft Worth that was in walking distance from LA’s apartment. There was a patio out back, and we spent the night drinking green beer and having a blast. A few of our guy friends decided to take off a little early, but LA, Moops, Sally and I all decided to stay back and have one more drink.

By the time we left, we were all quite tipsy… or if I’m really honest, we were down right drunk. We stumbled out the door and proceeded to make our way across a dark parking lot towards the apartment complex. When we were about half way there, LA and I, in our usual fashion, started hitting each other with our purses. Every once in a while, when the moon is right, we are struck with the desire to wrestle, (don’t get happy boys) for entertainment purposes only. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw 2 people walking toward us, but I didn’t think much anything of it at the time.

By the time they approached us, we were so caught up in seeing who could de-foot the other first, that we didn’t get any weird vibes from the two. In any right state of mind, one of the four of us would have thought it strange that the two young people who were not wearing green were standing uncomfortably close to our circle. But no, we kept right on laughing and swinging our purses like drunken asshats.

When one of them tapped me on the shoulder, I assumed it was someone who Lauren knew. I laughed and casually slapped  their shoulder, thinking they were just enjoying the show. After a few more seconds I finally realized that Moops and Sally were laying on the ground, belly down, and one of strangers were standing above them.

I was about 2 sticks away from being this naive.

It wasn’t until saw the gun that I truly realized what was happening. From that point, everything started moving in slow motion. I saw then that they were both holding large, silver guns, and that they didn’t look happy. There was a boy and a girl, both in their twenties. The girl was wearing a large sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled over her face, and the boy was wearing a beanie low on his forehead. Just as I started taking it all in, the girl put a gun up to LA’s head and demanded that she hand over her purse. I watched dumbly as she quickly followed her directions without a protest.

I was then the only one left standing. I can’t remember who, but one of my friends grabbed at my ankle and angrily whispered to “get down.”

“Gimme your purse and get on the ground,” the guy demanded.

Even though I knew what I was supposed to do, I couldn’t make myself move. When I finally remembered how to make my arms work, I struggled with getting my new Beatle’s purse, which had been tightly wound around my wrist for the fight, loose.  When I got it free, I had the thought that I should retrieve my credit card before handing it over. Making what could have been the dumbest decision of my life, I slid my hand into the purse, grabbed the card with my cupped hand, and swiftly put the card in my pocket before thrusting the clutch in their direction.

The guy robber asked me angrily if I had taken something out, and I shook my head to say no before I got on the ground. Luckily they believed me. As we all lay on the ground, the robbers stood over us for what felt like an eternity. Even though my eyes were tightly closed and I couldn’t hear anything except for my own heavy breathing, I could feel the burning of the gun on my back. I was sure that every second would be my last.

After what felt like an eternity, LA shouted  “RUN!” and took off. She was halfway to the gate before the rest of us had even gotten off the ground, but we all followed quickly behind her. I was roughly 250 lbs at the time, but I ran faster than I had ever ran in my life.

Once we were in the apartment, we all got quite emotional. One of my friends who had left the bar early was quick to call one of our stolen phones. The mugger answered and some words (that I won’t repeat) were spoken. The police came and our cards and phones were cancelled.

Looking back, it was quite funny that in the short time it took us to cancel our phones, rap song ring tones had already been purchased and downloaded.

You can bet your sweet ass that none of us slept that night, or slept easy for many nights to come.

So you can probably understand why I got so freaked out when I heard a loud bang out my window the other night. Within seconds LA had rushed out of bed and met me at the office door.

“That was a gun shot, I’m sure of it,” she said.

I screamed something like “OHHOLYFUCKINGSHIT” and ran to the hallway where I slid butt first to the ground. “GET DOWN AND DUCK!!!!”

LA stood above me and calmly told me to get up. “It’s not a drive by, it was just a gun shot. I’m calling the cops.”

So I got up off the ground and dramatically tweeted that gun shots were being shot in my neighborhood. LA went back to bed and I sat up for hours fantasizing about the dramatic shit that went down just across the street. When I drove home for lunch the following day and a moving man and about 4 men mowing the lawn and moving stuff out, I’m pretty sure I was right in my conclusion.

I don’t know the details, but if my imagination serves me correctly, the scenario involved a midget, some drugs, the CIA, and an underground sex tape. I hope I’m wrong.

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,

I am going to go ahead and skip right to the post-it’s, but before I do- I have to say -I MISS YOU GUYS!!!

I may be without the interwebs until Monday, so I will not be able to go around and read all of your wonderful, hilarious, thought provoking posts… and for that, I apologize! I also won’t be writing here as much as I’d like, and I may go Britney Spears crazy because of it. I hope yall will still love me if I come back next week with a shaved head and  2 kids on my hip. Please?

I also have the urge to eat something chocolaty right now, but that really has nothing to do with any of this except for my inability to stay on subject.

Thall shalt not hath to wait-eth any mor-eth. Here is thou mighty post-its.

(See. Crazy is already taking over-eth.)

For many more fantabulous post-it’s, make sure you check out Supah-Mommy’s page!

I may not have a magic hot tub, but I certainly have an incredibly disgusting bath tub. EEEKKKK

*** It is not usually like this. We have a drain problem which has kept me from taking hour long relaxing baths. Now I’m afraid to even stand in the shower because within seconds the water rises above my ankles… I wasn’t lying about being bald in a few weeks. That is ALL hair! (Not all mine)

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Look how clean!

All that's left is a blow up mattress!!

Ok so there are a few of my things left... but mostly, all gone!

My work station at home. Still completely intact.

ahhhhh closet vomit!!!!

ummm a few stacks of things that are ready to be packed?

I'm trying to keep the clean clothes off the dirty floor without actually having to hang them up. It is semi-effective.

Soooo… yeah. I still have a million kazzillion bajillion things to do. I want to cry. All I want to do is go lie in bed and watch season 1 of Heroes that I just rented 5 days ago and haven’t been able to watch because of my television commitment issues. But that’s being saved for another post. I love you people and please stick with me though I will be taking a bit of a absentee ballot (it’s more like I never registered) for the next few days/weeks. Soon I will be back to wreak both havoc and  love into all of your lives. In the mean time, GCHAT ME BITCHES! I neeeeeeeed youuuu! (If you don’t have my google name, its carissajade, don’t tell)

Awwwww yeahhhhhh I’m goin to bed at a decent hour on a freakin air mattress.

Still don’t have a bed and this makes me teary eyed. I also have not yet been contacted by the J to the Cusack. I wander if he did some research and found out about my voting history. EEEEKKKK.

Suckas.

The first pet that I (or technically my parents) had when I was a child was a Mutt named Mudd. I really don’t remember Mudd very well, but I have heard the story countless times of how Mudd bit me and they had to give her away. I never really held the fact that she bit me against her. The bone (haha) I had to pick with her is the fact that my “porn name” (first pet+childhood street’s name) was horrible, partly due to the fact that her name was “Mudd.”

Mudd Oakview, to be exact. Now that’s not very porny now is it?

But I digress. After Mudd, we had a Brittany Spaniel named Copper, who I loved dearly. She had a penchant for escaping our backyard and got ran over when I was still in Elementary school, and I was devastated.

After Copper passed away, my parents got another Brittany named Cedar, and I got a couple of my very own  mice- Hershey and Snowflake. It was around this time that I began to spend many of my afternoons hanging out at the neighborhood pet store- chatting with the owner and gazing into cages as snakes swallowed mice whole and Guinea Pigs hid in giant plastic tubes. My best friend and I even formed our very own “Animal Club,” where we would read books about animals and discuss our favorite species. I know what your thinking. And yes, I have always been this cool.

My pet “collection” began to grow at a very rapid pace. We got a Red Spectacled Amazon Parrot, who loved Cheetos but was bald because another bird plucked all of his feathers out. We got an iguana named Spike, who enjoyed whipping his tail at me if I tried to hold him. We had a box turtle (Strawberry Shortcake) who either got ran over in my backyard or eaten by my dog,  I can’t remember. We had an evil Sugar Glider named Sprite who would make this awful hissing sound every time I tried to get him out of his cage, and then he would proceed to fly on top of the curtain or to some other surface that I couldn’t reach where he would sit for days. On top of that, we had several frogs (I don’t remember their names,) a few other lizards, a couple parakeets (Blanco and Shreck,) a cockatiel, several hamsters that were all named Gizmo, a few fish tanks of fish both bought and caught with a sane at the farm.  Eventually the 2 little mice  procreated and so on, until we had at least 30. Needless to say, there were times when my room was quite smelly.

With each new addition, I would have a 3 month or so obsession over my new pet, until I set my sights on a new species and my attention would slowly wane.It wasn’t that I loved the pets any less, I just have always had a short attention span and I like to spread my love over a variety of different animals.

By the time I left for college, all of my pets with the exception of my sister’s beloved toy poodle with an under bite, BB, had either been given away, had died, or had been let go at my farm. I still remember the day that I looked around my room and noticed that my 30 mice and the many cages with plastic tubes connecting them were missing. I started crying and asked my dad what happened to them. He told me they had all died… which I believed for a few days until my sister told me that he had let them go at the farm. ***The same devastating thing happened with the rat that my parent’s inherited from me when I moved into a house with a bunch of cats, just a few months ago.

The first few years of college I was content with not owning an animal of my own. Most of my attention was spent on my new friends and drinking copious amounts of alcohol. There was no way I would have been able to remember to clean out a hamster cage or coddle a bird.

One day a friend of mine decided that she wanted a dog and recruited me to go with her to the local humane society to help her pick one out. A few of us crowded into her Jeep and got ready to talk her out of anything too crazy. It was my first time in a pound in many years, and I had no idea that it would hurt so bad to see so many dogs who needed homes. We walked down the caged hallways and I stopped at each cage to stick my fingers through and pet each puppy dog on the nose as I read to see how much time they had left before they would be put down.

This was when she was skinny.

I still remember the yelping. It was high pitched and painful. I looked around to see what kind of animal could be capable of making such a sound. I made my way down the row until I found her.

She was up on her short hind legs, and she was shaking… probably from the pain that her own screech caused her ears. She was skinny, and had a head that was much too large for her body. My friends all crowded around holding their ears, proclaiming that “that” was the ugliest dog they had ever seen.

As soon as we caught eyes I knew. It was an instant connection. I knew with certainty that there was no one else in the world who would want such a creature.

I asked permission to have a few moments with the Franken-puppy. The lady who worked at the pound seemed a little surprised, but she obliged. She told me that she was most likely a mix of Pit Bull and Dachshund, with perhaps a bit of Shar-pei. The weird little dog shook her butt violently as the lady put her on a leash and led her to the waiting area. After only a few minutes of holding the dog in my lap, I had made my decision. I told the lady that I needed to run out to my car to get my check book (yes check book) so that I could pay the $10.00 for the puppy. (What a bargain!!!)

As soon as I opened the door to go out to the parking lot, my new dog bolted and took off in a sprint across the field nearby. I took off after her, and yelled the first thing that came to mind: “STELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAA.”

Stella smiling with my sis

And so my new Picasso puppy had a name.

The first few months with Stella were a disaster. I kept her a secret from my parents while I attempted to potty train her and keep her from eating too many containers of roach poison. Stella ate everything and anything plastic, much like her momma. (What? I like chewing on pens!) She wet the floor every five minutes, and wouldn’t stop with the screech-bark. We had a couple close-calls with a razor and a few dozen Christmas ornaments, and I spent at least 30 minutes everyday chasing her around the neighborhood.

Eventually, as Stella and I grew closer and my patience grew stronger, she started learning how to behave- and I learned how to deal with her. We grew inseparable. She was literally my best friend.

My Stella bear and I on Christmas

A couple years ago I moved into a place where I couldn’t bring a dog. I had to take her back to my parent’s house for the time-being. I know, you are probably all thinking I’m a horrible Dog-Mom, but I swear to you this isn’t the case. I miss my puppy dog every day. More than getting home-sick, I get Stella-sick.

Lately, more so than ever. I had been contemplating bringing her to live with me when I move in a couple weeks, but she has spent the last few months out at the farm with my dad and her new best friend Penny, and now I think she really loves being a farm dog. Plus I think my dad really needs her right now.

My sister took this pic of my brave farm dog scaring off a cow!

I’m starting to have that “need-to-have-a-pet-itch” again, but now I’m worried that there are no other animals that will fulfill that void besides my Stella-bear. Who else could make me smile with their short little legs? Their Danny Devito body? Their dramatic personality!? (Stella cries like a baby when she gets a sticker in her foot, but I don’t blame her!)

What should I do??? Maybe get a Ferritt? A guinea pig?? Another pound puppy?

***SOBBB***

I  miss STELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

I think my dad and I are going to have to work out some sort of joint-custody arrangement.

Really my whole point is, there is a reason the Westminster dog show isn’t open to mixed-breeds… and that’s because Princess Stella Rosita Devito Tootsie Bertha Brown Jr. would win every year.

My boyfriend John Cusack would say the same, I’m sure.

Well probably you don’t, but just in case you DO – I have compiled a list so that you can be just as awesome as I am!!

*** Do not try to achieve “hot-mess” status unless you have some good friends around to make sure you don’t take it too far. You will also need some people that you can count on to help put your life back together once it is all said and done. You also will want to surround yourself with patient friends, who know how to have a good laugh.

*Start out your Friday night by jinxing yourself. It’s pretty fail-proof if you utter the remark “I’m not drinking very much tonight,” that you will actually drink that much and probably more.

*Begin the night with double vodka soda’s.

*Supplement drinks with shots.

*Do a few performances at a karaoke bar, including the “always a crowd pleaser” “Total Eclipse of the Heart” – Old School version.

*** A karaoke performance is not complete if you don’t include a leg kick at some point.

*Talk to any person who is willing to talk to you, and tell your entire life story.

*Make your new bar friends look up what you proclaim to be the “funniest blog in the world,” (mine) (which I know is certainly not the case) and make them save it to their phone.

*Go back to the microphone and sing “What A Wonderful World,” in the voice of Louis Armstrong. Again.

*End said performance by saying something like “SORRY IF THAT SUCKED AND IF YOU THINK SO WELL THEN EFF YOU BITCHES.”

*Wake up in the morning 30 minutes before you need to be somewhere that is forty-five minutes away.

*Realize that you left your phone at the bar.

*Realize that your wallet is also missing.

*Scratch that.

*YOU HAVE LEFT YOUR ENTIRE PURSE AT A BAR.

*Drive back to bar and recover your life.

*Arrive at new landlord’s house  to sign your lease 45 minutes late so that he is no longer home.

Put your money in his mailbox, call and leave a message to let him know that you’ve done so.

*Don’t hang up phone after you leave message, and accidentally record yourself saying something to the likes of “this effing blows, we get up early to get this shit taken care of and he isn’t even effin here.”

*Meet up with a friend and drink two of her mother’s Mikes Hard Lemonades.

*Proceed to go to lunch and have 2 bloody marys.

*Take a 3 hour nap.

*Wake up and go to a bar for dinner and drinks at about 6, having not showered and wearing the same clothes you wore the night before.

*Text people that you definitely have no business texting, and that you shouldn’t even be talking to.

*Get your phone taken away by a friend, but it’s for the better.

*Leave the bar at around 10 and pass out on a friend’s couch while everyone else is watching a movie.

*Wake up at 8 with a dead phone,  having no clue where you are.

*Luckily, you will still have time to make the sausage biscuit breakfast at Whattaburger.

*Go to see Valentines Day, looking, feeling, and smelling like three day old dogshit.

*On a Sunday afternoon proclaim with pride that “I haven’t showered since Thursday night!!!”

*Get in your Hurricane car and drive back to hurricane room, where you will ponder on these events and then the ones that you don’t remember so much about.

*Blog about it all so that the whole world has the opportunity to read about your awesomeness.

*Do things to help you forget your night/s.

*Relive it all again when a friend posts pictures of you in your worst state possible.

That. Happened.

There you have it, somewhere around 30 easy steps to be a hurricane.

Happy Monday folksters!!

You know how when you’re down- people start talking your ear, and your ass, and your face off about how if you have a positive attitude good things will start happening?

It reminds me of this corporate job I used to have that was probably the most boring/yet fun/ at least I had health insurance – where they made us watch this “Fish training video”, that was supposed to teach us to choose your attitude. If you haven’t been forced to sit through “Fish Training” -it basically is about these dudes in Seattle who work with smelly, slimy fish all day and LOVE IT because they get to throw fish around to each other and entertain people even though they smell of 27 day old underwear.  I don’t remember the details, but I do remember that they said the phrase “choose your attitude” about fifty bajillion times. At the time, all it made me do was buy a big bag of yummy Swedish fish and try to hit my unsuspecting co-workers in the head with them. And that WAS fun. Kind of.

Sooooo…I spent the majority of last week moping around the house listening to the Grizzly Bear’s and Elliot Smith’s most depressing songs, and purposely slow-walking through the rain (ever notice John Cusack does that in pretty much every movie?) because sometimes it just feels good to wallow in depression. Or not good, but if you’re already there, you might as well make a movie in your head about it.

After I got tired of being wet and cold and mocking Kristen Stewart’s facial expressions-I finally was like, What in the name of Oprah are you doing? Dude. Life is good. Being all passive aggressive and fifteen-year old angsty about shiz that you probably don’t even really care about and won’t matter 2 weeks from now, is just… donkey shit. Life can be hard, families have problems, and work and boys can both suck… Get over it.

Except this face looks more like someone might be following her...

The truth is, when I get like this- more than anything, I find that I’m just bored with life and so I start creating drama in my brain to spend my time obsessing over. At least I can admit that I am an emotional cutter.

So, being the non-nonsensical person that I am, I totes decided that I’d bite the bullet and give this fish/choose your attitude/ positive thinking -a chance.

And by gee golly, paint me purple and sparkly and call my grandmother- I think it’s working.

Good things are happening people.

My shuffle function on the ipod is my friend again. Last week during my semi-mediocre depression it was just pumping out the sad tunes. At one point it even played Jann Arden’s “Hanging by a Thread.” I didn’t even know I had that song. I mean you could have just found out that you won the lottery, that you don’t have any cavities even though you haven’t been to the dentist in like 9 years, and that Zach Braff  has been the one calling from an unknown number and breathing into your ear the last few weeks, and you will still want to cry when you hear this song!!!!

Now my ipod is back to being all jokstery with me and playing Copa Cobana every time I get in my car, and that’s totally cool. I laugh and say “ohhh youuuuu…. you get me every time,” and I change the damn song.

And other good stuff has been happening too.

I got word from the awesomeness that is Candice that the magazine that she writes for wants to run my weight loss story, which made me nearly pee my pants from excitement. I won tickets to go see Timbaland, whom I normally wouldn’t have gone to see, but this whole “positive” thinking led me to believe that it might be fun even though I haven’t listened to “that” kind of music since I quit dancing. And you know what? It was a blast. We danced and met a ton of people that I have already added to my friends for life list. Or at the very least, to my facebook friends  for life list.  In addition, I’ve been really trying to balls up and go for new opportunities in things that I have been avoiding (like performin some funny,) and now it seems I even get some stage time next week. But more about that later…

I think that’s enough butterflies and sunshine for one post.

Except for one thing. I told you a couple days ago that my friends and I got a little noshed last week and made a few dance videos. Well, I finally got my hands on the first one we did.

The sound is a little off and you have to skip to about 1.40, but I promise it’s worth it. LA’s the first one to boogie- and I have been cracking up at the image of her first moves all week. I’m the third up to bat- and I swear- it’s like I literally tried to dance out of my pants, I was so excited.

Enjoy internets. I would only do this for you.

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

Pee Ess (what,what???? thanks “Julie”) (go read her she’s fantabulous with three scoops of ice cream a cherry on top) ( Julie -don’t leave yet, there’s one more down there for you)

Attention Dallas Peeps!!!

A few of us Dallas bloggers have decided to blatantly plagiarize off of the D.C.-ERS and have planned a night of kickassery and drinktivities next Wednesday!! This will be my first time to meet ANY bloggers in real life and I am so totally pumped I actually googled “Real life Time Travel Techniques,” with no avail. So even though I have to wait, I figure it gives a few of you DFW’ers time to jump on board!!! Since we are all kind of spread out (TWHW) (That’s what he wishes) we are meeting a bit later than happy hour, but I can guarantee you there will still be happy hours to be had.

When:  Wednesday, February 10, 2010 @ 7:30 pm

Where:  Sherlock’s @ Park and 75

Who’s Coming: Shine, Gofahne, Graygrrrl, Natalie, Mary, and Carissa (me)  (and hopefully you?)

Let us know if you’re interested!!! We would love to have you!!

email me at carissajade@gmail.com

And “Julie” if you want to make a four hour drive, you can totally couch it at my house or in between my gayboy roommates since I know you will love them so much!!