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Ahhh.. “Highhhhh Hopes, yes he had- highhhhh hopes. That song makes me happy. My mom used to sing it to me when I was a kid. I’m trying to remember that ant. Right now.

Last week everything seemed possible. I had some majorly high hopes that I could get back into a strong routine of writing and working out and being healthy and all that nonsense… Then, somewhere around mid-week, life sped up. It’s not all bad, it’s just hard to keep control with so much happening right now. I was shocked, I’m telling you SHOCKED when I realized that Thanksgiving is THIS WEEK.

I’m happy about it, because of course it means I have an excuse to see my family, take a few days off, and eat some well deserved pecan pies pie. On the other hand, I have to face the fact that this break is going to be very short lived and reality is going to hit me smack in the face again in about 4 days.

I’m working two jobs right now, which is great, on the one hand; but on the other I’m a little bit stressed. When I’m not working I’m trying to meet some other obligation that I’ve set for myself. I’m trying to maintain friendships, get to know new people, and see every live show and movie that I come across on a very limited budget. There are also vacations I want to take, books I want to read, and stories that I want to get down on computer- stat.

Have I mentioned I’m moving again next week? Again? Yeah it seems like I just moved.

Oh, probably because I did just move, like 6 months ago.

Not only am I moving again, but my best friend in the world/roommate has decided to leave me forever and take off for the far-away and foreign land of New Yawk.

That bitch.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for her. I know she’s doing what’s best for her right now. But I’m also jealous of her, and super angry that she’s leaving me all alone.

Which brings me around to Day 4 of my 30 Days of Truth. (I’m taking this super slow, shut your stupid face.)

Something I have to forgive somone else for.

It may seem a little contrived that I’m using my best friend moving as the one thing that I have to forgive, but right now it’s a huge thing for me. There are other people that I probably should make a movement to forgive, but the bitch in me just isn’t ready yet.

LA and I met the first day of sorority rush before my freshman year of college. Her first impression of me was seeing me trip and fall, then subsequently laugh loudly and introduce myself. She told me later that she didn’t want to join a sorority if everyone was as fake as I seemed. She quickly learned that my gregarious nature wasn’t an act… for the most part I am an overly friendly person. Sometimes annoyingly friendly.

Shortly after that first introduction we became fast friends. We’re opposites in nearly every way, but we’re alike in the ways that make a friendship work. From the very beginning we had something strong. I’ve never had someone in my life that wasn’t family, that I knew I would love unconditionally. We are partners in crime. Cohorts in catastrophie. Acclomplices in adventure.

A lot of people probably think our friendship is a little bit unconventional. We argue about everything, but that is something I truly appreciate about her. There aren’t many people in my life who I can express myself to without worrying that I’ll hurt their feelings. LA knows my deepest darkest secrets without me even having to tell her. We’ve gone through some really tough times, but have shared our happiest moments of the last decade together as well. She’s one of the only people who I can sit with for hours without anything, and still be completely entertained. We live together now, but don’t rely on each other to live the way some other friendships do. That’s kind of a lie, because I rely on her A LOT. She keeps me in check when I’m down. Tells me there’s no sense in worrying when I’m upset, and tells me everything is going to be OK when I insist that it isn’t. And somehow I believe her. Sometimes, even now, we go days without talking but I know that she’ll be there in a heartbeat if I really need her, and I hope she knows I’d do the same for her.

She’s taught me a lot about myself and has helped me grow. She’s taught me how to be strong, assertive and confident. Even in her weakest moments, I look up to the way that she handles situations. I know that I’m an independent person, and that she’s helped me a lot in that department, but it scares me to think that in a few months she’s not going to be just a short drive away to help me regain my sanity when I start losing it.

Blargh. LA- just so you know. I’m crying right now with glass of wine in one hand and your laptop in my lap. If you were here right now you’d tell me to be careful not to spill my wine on your computer. At least I know I still have your voice of reason in your absense. I can’t express how sad I am at the thought of you moving. Alas, I am happy for you. I’m here for you if you’re ever feeling lonely. I’m sorry for all the times I’ve ruined your shoes and lost your jewlery. I hope you can forgive me for that. In return, I won’t hate you forever for leaving me to fulfill your dreams. Love your BFF, Carissa. DON”T FORGET IT. AND P.S. IF YOU FIND A NEW BEST FRIEND IN A FEW MONTHS THEN SHE BETTER BE COOLER THAN ME. (Though I know that won’t happen.)

I obsess, that’s just my nature.

Like my love for John Cusack… I’m sure you, internet, are even sick of hearing about it at this point. But still I trudge on and I will announce my love for all the world to hear once again…

I LOVE YOU JOHN CUSACK.

There I feel better. But not amazing.

I LOVE YOU JOHN CUSACK AND I WILL HAVE YOUR BABIES AND TICKLE YOUR ARMS EVERY NIGHT.

Now I’m rocking.

I take things too far in other ways too.

Despite the fact that I love performing comedy, I’ve never been particularly good at telling jokes, especially ones that other people wrote. However, I had  a a favorite joke when I was young, and I told it all the time.

There was once a young boy, and when he turned 3- his dad asked what he wanted for his birthday.

He told his dad he wanted 2 ping pong balls. One red and one blue.

The next year on his 4th birthday, his dad asked what he wanted for his birthday…

He told his dad he wanted 4 ping pong balls, 2 purple and 2 blue.

On his fourth birthday he told his dad he wanted 8 ping pong balls. 1 pink, 2 red, 2 orange, and 3 turquoise.

ect, ect, ect..

Then his dad dies..

Then he has a son of his own, and his son says “Dad what do you want for your Birthday?”

And he says, “Son, one day I will explain this all to you, but for my 30th Birthday – I want 37 ping pong balls. 30 magenta, 2 brown, and 5 neon green.

ect, ect, ect…

4 hours later..

The dad is on his death bed and his son asks for his final request, he says “onnnneeeee whittteee ping pong balllllll.”

The son asks his dad what was up with all the ping pong balls all these years… “Well son, it was because… becccaauussseeee……”

And then he dies.

You don’t have to tell me… I know! That was the worst joke ever. And if I told it the way I used to, it would take about 3 hours to read…. but still it made me laugh to see other’s go through so much suffering at my expense.

I love taking a joke too far, that’s all there is to it. A few years ago, my best friend almost befriended me because I made up a pointing game. I would think of any hand movement that inadvertently pointed to her, and she just about lost it. It went on for months. It was HILARIOUS to me. Not so much to her.

Well, it seems the world is finally getting back at me.

Every night for the last few weeks my roommate has filled up the Brita with water.

Every night I semi-watch her do so, yet I don’t take it in.

Every night within 15 seconds of her filling the Brita up with water, I pour myself a glass of water.

And every night the lid falls off and water spills all over the floor.

I suspect she thinks I’m doing it on purpose at this point. So not the case.

I’m not sure if my life has become a mockery of one of my passions, or what… but I do feel like it has become a mockery of one of my most favorite sketches EVER. (Mr. Show)

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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.

We noticed that they had moved in about 3 weeks ago, just a few days after we ourselves had moved in… but for one reason or another (we are lazy, lazy, human beings) we decided not to do anything about it. I don’t even think it came up in conversation until the day that there were over fifty in a swarm on our kitchen counter and they could no longer be completely ignored.

Even then, we sprayed them with a bit of Windex, because that’s what we had available, and we went on with our day.

A few days later, I went to the pantry to get some cereal for a midnight snack.

They had gotten to it first. They were devouring our delicious granola cereal. Those nasty, selfish, tiny little vicious creatures had ruined my cheat food of the week.

Still, we didn’t take action. Oh sure, we threw out the food that they had taken over and we moved the rest of our food to a counter across the room, but I guess at that point we decided that we would give this new co-habitation one more shot. And also, did I mention that we are lazy?

But in the last week or so the situation has gotten exponentially worse. They have multiplied and migrated to other areas of the house. They’ve taken over my bedside table where the 5 empty glasses of wine from the last week have been sitting. I could probably let that slide. Hey! They have good taste.

Only it turns out, not so much. They’ve also taken over my bathroom, and I mean taken over. Every time I sit down to pee, which takes all of 30 seconds, these tiny little bastards scatter like zombies (fast-moving 28 Days Later zombies, not the ones from The Night of the Living Dead) and inevitably at least 5 make it up my thigh. I then spend at least 10 minutes of my precious time on my knees in my bathroom with a wad of toilet paper, squishing the shit out of as many of those little fuckers as I possibly can. It’s like a miniature game of Whack a Mole.

I’ve finally come to the end of my rope. We got off our asses… or actually… picked up our phone and called the land lord to inform him of our new, unwanted house guests.

4 days later he came over bearing poison and traps. They don’t seem to be working though. They are still running around and ruining my existence.

 In other scary news, this weekend I saw the most terrifying thing of my life. Even more terrifying than the time that I was lying on the cold floor taking a hangover-power-nap, and I opened my eyes to find that my roommate was standing over me in her bathrobe, legs spread. I saw her beating heart, I swear. It was funny later, but at the time I was scarred.

Anyhoohoo, my sister and I went out to my family’s ranch to go fishing and such. At the time, we were actually letting her pet turtle go in the creek, because she has this thing about keeping animals in captivity until they are full-grown and accustomed to snacking on chocolate and fresh strawberries, and then deciding that life would be better for the animal if she sent them out into the wild to let them try to fend for themselves.

So there we were, watching Rex the turtle sit in the exact same spot on the bank of the creek for forty-five minutes. My sister tried to coax him into the creek by throwing weiners into the water (which my dog promptly jumped in and ate) and saying things like “Go on Rexy, go into the water… you’ll love your new home.” We were fully engrossed in watching the turtle do nothing, when all of a sudden we heard a loud swoosh.

We both looked up just in time to see it  submerge from the water in all of it’s horrifying glory. I still don’t know what “it” was, but I’m telling you- it wasn’t a creature of God.

It was furry, at least four feet long,  had a very long tail, and I swear I saw red eyes and giant fangs. It only came out of the water for a split second, but it was enough to make me nearly drop my video camera in the water, and even my non-swearing sister said “Holy fuck what was that!!???”

After the initial panic ceased, I came to the conclusion that our eyes had been blessed with seeing a mythical water chupacabra.

But my sister? She said “maybe it was a sea lion.” In a fresh water creek.

Who knows though. Her guess was as good as mine.

(Turn and face the strain)

Ah yes… David Bowie. I love that man.

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

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

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

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

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

Then again there are some things that never change.

For instance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yeah.

That’s how my night played out.

Next time I’ll win. It’ll be epic.

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Holy Friday Batman. This week went by so quickly that I haven’t even had a chance to watch Chuck from two Monday’s ago. Maybe even 3 weeks ago. I can’t even keep track of tv anymore.

Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m all about the quick work-week. Except that I really wish that I could slow my evenings down a little bit. I have so much to do but I seem to keep finding a thousand-million other things to do to avoid the things I actually have to do.

It doesn’t help much that the Oscars are coming up in a couple weeks. I am so behind on my goal to see every movie  nominated in all the major categories that I’m 100,000% sure that it’s not going to happen this year, which is disappointing…. but I’m not giving up without a good college try. Thank you life. This is the first time in 3 years that it won’t happen.

Then add in the fact that it’s the time of year that all the best bands are coming to town, and I’m super screwed for time. Not that I’ll actually get to see most of the shows due to lack of funds, but thanks to Julie, I’ve recently gotten addicted to listening to bands who are coming to town on LaLa.com. It’s an awesome site, but it’s sucking up all of my free time and all of my money 10 cents at a time. If you are a member- be sure to let me know so I can follow you and waste a bajillion more hours listening to all of the songs that you like.

Of course there’s also the big huge purple Woolly Mammoth in the room. What’s that? Oh yeah. I’m moving in a week.

Like. Woah.

I’ve been avoiding this like I avoid bathing suit season. I pretend like it’s just not going to happen and I avoid doing anything to get ready for it.

I haven’t done a single thing to prepare save pay my deposit for the new place. I haven’t gotten boxes. I haven’t found a bed. We still don’t have a refrigerator. I don’t even know how I’m going to get all of my stuff from point A to point B… and the two points are not very close together.

I think the reason that I’m not stressing too hard is because I have moved nearly every year since I started college (9 freaking years ago,) and it always seems to get done.

There was only one house that I lived in for more than a year and ***sighhhhhhhhh I miss that place dearly.

It was my last two years of college. My friend Kt and I lived in this little yellow house with a red door that we dubbed the “Anna St. house”  because it was on Anna St. We are real creative like that. It could have also easily been dubbed “Neighborhood Soup Kitchen” or “House of a thousand roaches,” but I loved it whatever it was called.

We painted each room a different color. Kt’s room was light blue, and mine was purple. We painted the bathroom bright pink. We covered our antique fridge with pictures of our favorite classic movie stars.

There was no central air or any heat… period, which meant that during the winters we usually brought both of our space heaters into the living room and made a super pallet on the wood floor. There was one winter when we had at least three of our homeless friends living with us and we literally did have what felt like a soup-kitchen. We made huge vats of tortilla soup, bundled up in layers of sweats, and watched movie after movie cuddled up on the floor.

Did I mention that we didn’t have cable or internet? We survived playing board games and watching VHS tapes and Friends DVDs and the entire bootleg series of Seinfeld that showed up on our doorstep one day unannounced. Our electricity was cut off every other month, and we went a few months without hot water. We also had a jungle in our back yard. Whenever I would let Stella out, I could tell where she was by watching the bamboo sway. And I wasn’t kidding about the roaches. We also had period of time when we had a plethora of fleas and rats.

Regardless, that house is one of the only places that I have ever really been able to call home since I left the house I grew up in.

Until now.

Even though we’ve moved houses, I’ve lived with the same 4 people for the last two years and I am going to miss this them a ton. I know we’ll still see each other plenty, but it’s weird living with friends for so long and then all of a sudden they are not part of your daily ritual. On the other hand, it will be nice to not live with so many people,and I’m really excited about living with my bff LA.  It’s so bittersweet, this move.

Ok enough sappiness. I’m ready to start my- what I hope to be a productive weekend- with a smile.

But before any productivity begins, my friend Moops and I are attending a Nirvana cover band concert tomorrow night at House of Blues. I keep winning these concert tickets from the Dallas Observer, and it’s awesome!

Expect a full review next week. At some point. If I even have a second to write. Expect a few words about it at the least.

And speaking of Moops, he has really been wanting to start a blog. This is my friend who inspired all of this, and he’s the guy I know who is most likely to leave a bar naked. It’s only natural that he will want to share these incidents with the world.

Can we offer him a little encouragement to actually get it started?? I have already set up the Blogspot for him, and he has plenty of entertaining material, and you will all love him… so maybe in the comments tell him how much you would like to read his blog and he will FINALLY do this!!!

YAYYYY!! Thank you honey bunches of oats and have a Hollywood weekend, on me!

Loves you! And my boyfriend John Cusack does too!!

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.

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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!!

Alllright, allllright, allllright….

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

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

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

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

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

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

GRRRRRRR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today I’m doing my first guest TMI post ever over at one of my favorite bloggers and new-found friend Tricia’s page, One Step to Recovery; One giant Step to OMG. Please head over there and show both of us some love, and make sure you read some of Tricia’s past posts and follow her blog! You won’t regret it, she is entertaining, honest, and completely made of awesome!

And speaking of guest posts… I have no idea how, but my best friend LA has yet again talked me into letting her post another TMI post ABOUT ME. I thought that she had already shared the most embarrassing “shit” she had in her vault (about the time I shit all in her car) but it turns out- I don’t remember my own embarrassing stories very well. So without further adoodoo, I hand the mic over to LA, and I’m gonna go cry and eat a bag of oreos.

As Lilu always says: ***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Make sure you check out Lilu’s site today for her special post secret TMI edition, and check out her TMI Thursday archives for all sorts of hilarity!

Hola friends of Carissajaded,

This is now my second attempt at a guest blog for Carissajaded, and let’s hope this one reads a little better than the last. My previous entry may have been written on the eve of my birthday after a bit of celebrating.

I think that it has been said before that CJ and I have a bit of an “unhealthy” relationship. I may even have a broken engagement to show for it… my bad. Regardless, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. That being said, there have been a few instances when that line between being mere friends, and the things that you only tell/do/keep to yourself has been crossed. This is definitely an example of that.

It was long time ago in college when this incident took place. In those days we were busy drinking, eating, smoking, staying up late and doing countless other things to our bodies that don’t exactly bode well for a healthy digestive system. It was one Sunday in particular where it seemed that the deadly combination of the aforementioned vices had finally taken their toll on a certain somebody’s already delicate digestive track. Here’s a snippet of the things anyone could have heard throughout our apartment on that afternoon:

“Uuuuughhh, my stomach”.

“I feel soooo bloated”.

“Why can’t I poop”?

“Stop farting in my room and running away”!

You know, the usual things that you’re thinking in your head when a case of constipation comes your way, but that you choose not to say out loud – because it’s disgusting and generally bad manners. The scene was really that of a bad Pepto Bismol commercial…Or in this instance, Fleet.

After an entire day of the groaning, I couldn’t take it anymore. You see, in our relationship, my role is that of the doctor. CJ complains about an ailment, and I decisively give her my diagnosis (nothing is wrong) and my suggested treatment (drink a glass of wine). Most of the time Half the time I have no idea what I am talking about, but when your bff is a ridiculously paranoid hypochondriac, you learn to fake it. In this case however, I was right. I knew what needed to be done and I said it.

An enema.

Yes friends, that is a 5 letter word that no one wants to hear, but it had to be said. After a little convincing about how they are actually a very useful tool that doctors recommend for good colon health, she decided it was her only option. Off to CVS we went.

About an hour later – because for some reason neither of us can step foot in a CVS without spending AT LEAST that amount of time looking at all the “As seen on TV” merchandise and fake eyelashes – we were home. We chose my bathroom as the best option for the deed because I had the master which could be closed off to the rest of the apartment, and also I could shut the inner bathroom door between us. My role was, once again, that of the doctor. I stood on the other side of the door yelling out the instructions of how to assume the proper position (looks very similar to another position that is dirty in a completely more pleasurable kind of way) and administer the “medication.”

She was there. She was in the home stretch. All necessary components were, for lack of a better term, in place. But she froze.

I could hear crying from the other side of the door…  All I could hear in-between the mostly inaudible sobs was, “I can’t do it”. *sobbbbbbb “Please, help me”.

All I could think was, why God, why? Why hast thou forsaken me?

For those of you who don’t know CJ, she would have stayed in that position in my bathroom all night. It’s a rare combination of stubbornness and fear, but when she gets in that state, she’s liable to stay there… forever.

I knew this. I also knew I had to pee. So what did I do? I took a deep breath and I entered the bathroom.

The least she could have done was shift positions so I didn’t walk right into it, but no. There she was in all her glory – assuming the position that I had, just minutes before described to her from the other side of that door. What I would have given to have been back on the other side of that door. The “applicator” was facing me and I knew what had to be done.

I calmly stepped towards her, all the while soothing her with my voice. I described what I was about to do, and with my head half turned and only one eye open…I squeezed. The worst part about it is that you have to do it slowly, and you have to ensure that the bottle’s entire contents are used. After what seemed like the longest 10 seconds of my life, I ran screaming from the bathroom. I left the applicator right where I’d found it.

And that was it. My job was over. My duty – no pun intended – complete.

I can’t say I am proud of what I did, but I am a friend. However, CJ, if you ever need help with something like that again, please call someone else.