Don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms with acting a fool in front of strangers. I kind of thrive on those moments. In fact, in awkward situations with strangers, I tend to to start word vomiting up embarrassing and/or inappropriate stories about myself.

It’s a special talent really.

I figure if everyone is feeling as awkward as I am, I might as well make everyone feel a little bit better about themselves by letting them know that hey, at least they aren’t as big as a dumbass as I am. It tends to be a good ice-breaker. It also tends to give off a really awful first impression of myself.

That being said, I’ve realized in the last three weeks, that moving to a new city has really brought out the awkward in me.

I’m used to being the person that brings people together. In my old life, I had different groups of friends all over the metro-plex, who REALLY knew me. I was rarely in situations where I didn’t know anyone.

Here, I only know a few people, and most of those people are new friends and acquaintances, which I am very much  enjoying… but also lends itself for ample awkwardifying situations.

For example.

I recently started taking an improv workshop to brush up and get to know people. Last week, a guy in my class came in with a cast on his arm. I asked him what happened, and before he could reply I went into the story about how I recently fell asleep on my arm after a rough night at SXSW. When I woke up I had no movement in my hand. I did not regain movement in my hand for 2 months and had to undergo weeks of Physical therapy with a therapist that looked exactly like Jake Gyllenhall. Yes. I fell victim to a circumstance commonly known to old-man drunkards as “Saturday night Palsy.”

While a true story, this is not the kind of first impression I should be sharing with people whom I respect and would like to respect me. I have an opportunity here to exist in a world where this didn’t happen, but noooo.. I go and blab my shame-filled stories with could-be friends who will now be weary of sharing a drink with me.

Por Ejemplo numero 2.

Today, I was in a coffee shop chatting it up with a very David Grohl-esque barista. We shared the usual small talk. I’m new to town. He’s in a band. I’m all hopped up on the caffeine, pa and can’t seem to concentrate enough to write. He’s in 2 bands actually. I saw a band last night. What band was that?, he asked.

“Oh just one of my favorite bands in the entire world, Other Lives. It was a kick  ass show. Yeah, they play every instrument in the world. I think at one point they even pulled out a bazooka. I actually don’t know what a bazooka is… maybe it was a trumpet. And then this dude that made cool paintings started talking to me, and all his friends were really cute. I kind of wanted to make out with a guy in the band but that was stupid he was in the band and probably wouldn’t want to make out with me… I’m pretty sure he saw me pick a wedgie… so instead we went and hung out with these other guys. Yeah they were a Daddy’s with daughters meet up group.”

“Oh… hmm.. OK. Well nice meeting you.”

And then I hugged him goodbye.

I HUGGED him goodbye.

As if spewing a nonsensical, snoozefestivus version of my night wasn’t enough, I found it appropriate to two-arm hug a complete stranger.

And that’s not the first time I’ve found myself in the role of Uncle Creepster hug-girl in the last few weeks. No. It’s like I’ve completely lost my sense of barriers with strangers. I’ve found myself reaching out to hug a friend of friend’s mother after run-in at the mall. Rather than shaking hands at the end of an interview, I go in for a big embrace. “Hi homeless person, no I don’t have any money… But I will give you a giant sweaty hug to make you feel better for not having any alcohol. I feel ya bro.”

And every time I’ve been met with the same stiff armed pat on the back.

I don’t know what’s come over me. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m loving being in a new city that makes me want to take every faux-relationship to the next level. Maybe I’ve just been feeling more insecure than usual and am asking the world accept me and love me for my awkward self. Either way, it’s very unlike me. In the past I’ve always had very strict rules about my personal space.

In fact, perhaps it’s time we review these rules and take note.

Hugging:  OK when greeting friends and family, saying goodbye to PEOPLE I KNOW, and meeting celebrities.

Not OK when greeting people I have not known more than five minutes, homeless people, gas station cashiers, sweaty people, or ex-boyfriends whom I dislike.

Shoulder massaging: OK anytime I’m the recipient or if there is a cute boy that I want to impress with my strong manly hands.

Not OK when I’m in the back seat of a cab and I mistakenly think that a massage will pass in lieu of actual payment.

Hand Holding: OK when crossing a busy street, playing Red Rover, on a first date at the movies, walking through a crowded music festival, or comforting an elderly person.

Not OK when I haven’t known you for more than five minutes or after I have had over three drinks under any circumstance.

Gently touching knees: Never appropriate. No. I don’t like it in a car. I don’t like it in a bar. If we’re sitting so close that our knees our lightly brushing against each other- back the eff off. It gives me the oogies.

Gently Tickling the inside of arms: I will never say no to this. Strangers, creepers, bums, hotties- BRING IT ON.

Tickling arm pits: I WILL PUNCH YOUR FACE!

Touching my butt: Only OK if you are boosting me up into a tree or over a fence.

So there.

I’m sure there are more but I will tell you if you’re over crossing any important boundaries. As for me, watch out, yo. My rule-breaking awkward ass is sure to hug you in the near future.

I had a breakdown at the end of my first senior year of college. I had just finished failing algebra for the 4th time, and I was looking at an entire summer of leftover classes and working at the job from hell, literally.

Ironically, the job that the devil built had the clever facade of being a “Christian Costume shop.” Meaning: they played nothing but Christian music, hung up fliers about God all over the store, and rented church groups costumes at a deeply discounted rate. But they didn’t fool me. No sir. From the first day, I could feel the heat in that place.

The owner was one of those men who worked hard to make a good first impression. He would offer a “God Bless you” at the end of a sale and would fake-laugh his way through conversations with elderly women trying on wigs for a Senior Citizens ball;  but anyone who had the terror of working for him knew better.

The first day I was there, he informed me that I had “the handwriting of a five year old” and that “that was a sign of stupidity in women.” The second day he told me that it was inappropriate for me, as a woman, to hold such lengthy conversations with the male customers. The third day, I overheard him call his wife an retarded bitch in his back office. The fourth day I showed up in a jean skirt and he informed me that the vaccum cleaner had broke, and that I would need to get on my knees and pick up every sequin on the floor… IN A COSTUME SHOP. The fifth day, he decided to berate me in front of a customer. He came out and apologized to the customer for me being an idiot, and continued to talk down to me. The customer, a lovely older African American woman, asked to speak to him in private and when she walked proudly out of his office,  she  looked at me and loudly said, “MMM girl. Don’t you ever let any man talk to you that way again. If I was you I’d walk out of here right now. ”

The sixth day, he was extremely angry with me for embarrassing him. I tried to stay out of his way, straightening and re-straightening the costumes on mannequins, and organizing the piles of fake mustaches and prosthetic bloody noses into stacks. I tried hard not to let him see that I was crying when he told me he was surprised I was a college student because I “had to use a calculator to figure out the tax on a tuxedo rental.” Then I realized I was really in trouble when I went to the bathroom and found out, that unfortunately; my womanhood had struck once again at a very inopportune time.

I only lived a few blocks away, maybe a 5 minute drive there and back, but I knew he wouldn’t just let me run home to grab something real quick. So I decided to be honest. I approached him like I would a king or a really mean teacher- with my head down, and simply asked “I am having woman issues, would it be OK if I ran home for a second and changed clothes?”

He looked at me like I had asked him if I could take a body shot off of his man boobs, and said “No. You’re going to have to deal with it. You should have known that was going to happen today, or are you some sort of whore?”

At that point, I could no longer hold back my tears. I made my way to the bathroom and proceeded to have the biggest break-down of my 23 years. I cried audibly, and didn’t care if the customers could hear me. And then, I sat down on the dirty bathroom floor and called my dad. I told him I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t spend the summer being talked to like I was an idiot. My dad, being the amazing person that he was- told me to do whatever I felt I needed to.

I didn’t want to walk out and admit defeat; but the truth was- I was broken.

Looking back, it wasn’t just the job. At the time, I was heartbroken that a boy that I had been in love with for four years was now in a serious relationship. I was jealous that so many of my friends had graduated and were taking real jobs, some of them had even already moved away. The end of my college career was close, and I still had no idea what I really wanted to do with my life. So I packed up everything I could fit into my car, and I drove home.

It may sound rash, but it ended up being the best decision I ever made in my life.

The second I got home, I started applying for summer jobs with more tenacity than I had shown in my previous 4 years of college . I didn’t really want to stay at my parent’s house for 3 months, but I only had limited work experience, so I applied to jobs that I knew I could handle. Within a week, I had a handful worth of phone interviews with summer camps.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten that my voice mail was a rap that said – “Hi you’ve called Carissa and she’s not here, she’s probably out studying or drinking some beer, so leave her a message or call her back- but if you don’t then that is whack, wicca wicca wicca.”

Luckily, I eventually landed a summer job teaching dance at a camp in upstate New York, (which is really another story in itself) but it was amazing.

Until recently, I had forgotten how invigorating it could be to take things into my own hands. For so long, I’ve let myself fall into a pattern of “I’ll change things when the time is right.” I thought that it was fine to continue with the same  mundane jobs, the same happy hours, the same nightly patterns of watching Netflix on my computer… I figured that eventually, life would hand me the opportunity that I needed to make things right.

And in a way it did.

When I first found out I was laid off, I was devastated. I bawled until I couldn’t breathe. I concentrated on the fact that I would no longer have health insurance and I wouldn’t be able to see my therapist, AND OH MY GOD HOW AM I GOING TO PAY FOR MY $140 A MONTH YOGA CLASS???

And then I took a step back and realized that life had handed me what I had been asking for for so long. For the first time since my first senior year of college, I wasn’t tied down with a lease, or a boy, or life I didn’t want to walk away from. I was free. So I took it. I packed up my bags, spent a weekend with my wonderful inspirational aunts, and started applying for jobs with a vengeance.

That was 14 days ago.

Today I started my first day at a new job in a new city and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been doing comedy workshops and RIGHT NOW I’m writing for the first time in 6 months. I’ve been reconnecting with old friends and making new ones.

Long story short, I have no idea where this decision will take me, but I’m nothing but excited. I can’t wait for tomorrow. I freaking love the liberation of being free!

Being the self-deprecating person that I am, I initially thought that writing on the subject of “something that I love about myself” would be quite difficult, but the truth is- I kind of rock.

Although I could still write a novel about all the things I would like to change about myself, I realized that there are quite a few things about me that I find quite enjoyable.

Unfortunately, most of the qualities that I love most about myself are also the same qualities that others find highly annoying… but I think I’ve finally come to a point in my life where I’m OK with that.

I’m not going to list all of the things that make me really, really, ridiculously amazing, but I think I can try to sum them up into one all-encompassing quality.

Basically, I love that I am kind of a child.

Not in the Forest Gump “kind of like a child sort of way, though some may beg to differ… but I do think that sometimes I have a bit of a child like outlook on life.

I’m not going to deny that I’m a little “jaded.” I don’t like the way a lot of things in my life are going. I despise men in graffic tees. I actually don’t like most things that have to do with men in general right now.

Regardless, after all the shit I’ve gone through the last few years with my family and personal mountains, I sometimes surprise myself by being so excited by life. I even like going through the darker times because I know it’s going to get better. I like to use that time to improve all of the aspects of my life. I love finding new projects, starting new hobbies and meeting new people. I love that I feel things so deeply. I love that I still have the ability to care about a person enough to get hurt. I love that I’m optimistic. I love that I have an active imagination. I love that I can emphathize with other people’s pain. I know so many people who don’t really do that.

On the other hand, I love that I feel emotions on the other extreme as well. I love that I’m constantly excited about what’s next. I love that I really miss my family and friends when they’re away. I love that I cry at Hallmark commercials and Lifetime movies. I love that I’m a hopelesss romantic. I love that I’m passionate. I love that I have the abilty to be truly moved by a song or a piece of artwork. I love that I can make any situation fun. I love that my heart flutters when I’m on a walk and I see something beautiful. I love that I dream big. I love that I like to sing loud. I love to laugh. I love life.

I know this all sounds as cheesy as an old Saved by the Bell episode, but it’s true.

I fucking love being me.

It’s here, in full force.

And no I’m not talking about football season. In fact, while all of  you other humans out there are getting pumped up about football season, I’m going to spend all of my time preparing for Movie Award Season, which begins later this fall.

As much as I love Movie Award Season, it is still only my second favorite season in the world.

I’m usually afraid to tell people what my favorite season is. When asked I usually say something boring like “Hatch Green Chili” season (which just happened) or “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” on tv season… and while both of these are near and dear to my heart, neither of them hold the number one spot.

Nope. The winner clearly goes to Hurricane Season. It usually goes to Tornado season, but since this year we got abso-lutely nothing… I’m really on the storms o’ tropical for my adrenalin fix.

Does that make me a horrible, evil witchy woman?

I mean… I would never wish tragedy or death upon anyone, but it’s exciting from afar.

It’s not really fair, I know. Here I am, 5 hours away from any of the real damage… but we still get some good storms out of it. This week was the perfect example. I basically had to swim to work. I ran to my car and back and looked like I had just been old school river-babtised. It didn’t stop storming until last night, and by late afternoon I started trying to channel Helen Hunt.

And I loved every second of it.

Like I said before, I hate to hear about people getting hurt, but it is so much fun to watch these storms do some damage. I was glued to the TV yesterday watching a tornado touch down in downtown Dallas. I want to be there, taping that in person. I swear, one day I will. I’m scared to death of sky diving, and I doubt I would ever get on the back of a motorcycle, but I would pay $5,000 to go on a storm chasing tour.

I always get so jealous of my friends who live in Houston. A couple of years when Ike struck the coast, they were all holed up in one house, with nothing but an ice chest full of beer and a few guns… in case there was looting going on. They would call us every few hours as to give us-up-to date reports on the wind and how they shot at street signs. Sounds dangerous, right? But I wannnnaaaa. I get all giddy about the possibility of a tornaduh… I can’t imagine what I would feel if I was in a real life hurricane!

Also? There is always some quality comedy footage that comes out of their footage.

Por Ejemplo:

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 I blame my love/hate relationship with violent storms on my cousin, andigayle.

I may have mentioned this before, but when we were young, we learned that a tornado sounds just like an approaching train. Well just so happens, you could hear a train from my back yard every afternoon. Everytime we had a little bit of a breeze going on, she would yell tornado… then run inside and lock the door… leaving me crying and beating on the door as she exclaimed from the other side that she “can’t get it open!”

But to this day, I love her for that. Like a lot of the things I love most (ketchup, scary movies), my love of storms came from her torture.

So the last few days have been a flood of different emotions. I’ve written emails I’ll never send, blogs I’ll never post, and tweets that I’ve promptly erased. All in all though? I feel better. I feel excited about the future. I’m still upset, but I think I’m doing a pretty fine job of distracting myself, and at this point I know things will get better. Besides that, there are still so many other things going on in my life that I can dwell over.

Like what, you ask?

The Good:

*I’m going to admit something now. I’ve been in denial for a long time, and it’s time I come clean.

I have a soft spot for these romantic comedies. Not all romantic comedies, but the funny ones. More specifically, hilarious ones that star Jason Bateman. That man is totally and completely my cup of tea. Oh he’s no John Cusack, but he sure comes close. I mean.. he’s kind of got that unconventional hero thing going for him. That’s right… I saw “The Switch” last night. I’m not going to say it was the best movie of all time… but I will admit that it had me laughing, which is a feat – by any means.

I also watched “The Backup Plan” last week. Yes, I’m speaking of the movie starring J-Lo. And I liked it. Shut your face… and your mouth.

*My friends and I are working on getting another site going. We’ve been working on it in some incarnation for over 5 years, but this time around I’m really excited about it. Basically, I’ve spent so much time getting to know the nightlife in the DFW, and I don’t think I want to waste my opinions anymore. I think you locals may find this quite useful… so check out Drink Up DFW! Now! Do it! We still have a lot to do, and so many features to add, but I’m really pumped about the direction we plan on taking, and now I may just have some extra time to put some extra effort into it!

*I finally organized my jewelry. That may not seem like a big thing to most of you, but it has all been in a gigantic tangle of a mess since I moved here… last March.

*I’m going home to see the family this weekend. A few months ago, I would have probably categorized this in the “Bad” category, but things have been going really well lately. I’m so excited to see my Stella dog, and perhaps spend some quality time on the lake. SQUEEE.

*Lately I’ve spent a lot of time reconnecting with one of my favorite people in the world. She really deserves a post of her own, but my cousin Andi just started her own blog project, and you should really check. it. out. I’m really pumped about it!

*I had chicken wings for the first time in months last night, and they were deeelish. I also put lots of other yummy things in my body this weekend, including Taco Bueno breakfast, potato skins, doritos, pizza, beef jerky, a burrito, jalapeno chips, ramen noodles, popcorn, a REAL Dr Pepper, and a bag of Reeses Pieces.

The Bad:

*I had chicken wings for the first time in months last night, and they were deeelish. I also put lots of other yummy things in my body this weekend, including Taco Bueno breakfast, potato skins, Doritos, pizza, beef jerky, a burrito, jalapeno chips, ramen noodles, popcorn, a REAL Dr Pepper, and a bag of Reeses Pieces.

I am now suffering from the above combination.

*My car is a piece… I mean a real piece. I’m trying my damndest to give it all the love and affection it takes to keep it alive, but it’s just not working. I know it’s partly my fault… I mean I haven’t gotten the oil changed in months, and I backed into a trailer yesterday… but that doesn’t mean it should die every time I put it in park, does it? I’m just praying it’s got another year in it still. I LOVE YOU CAR. I WILL KISS YOUR MUFFLER!

*Every few hours or so, I start to regret some of what I’ve put out on this blog. Regret might not even be the right word, but lately I’ve been thinking of making it private, or at least some of the posts. I’m not sure what I want to do, but it’s definitely something that’s been on my mind lately.

*I’ve had a really difficult time keeping focused lately. I seriously feel like that dude from Mallrats who can’t see the sailboat in the poster… “THERE IS NO EASTER BUNNY!!” There is so much I want to be doing, and I sometimes feel that I just don’t have the time to do it all. Then again, I hate feeling bored so maybe this should actually be filed under the “good” category.

The Ugly:

*This Dallas weather. Gene Kelly is about the only thing that could make this weather seem better. That, or maybe a few scenes from my boyfriend John Cusack’s movies… especially set to some Ben Folds.

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I would go into all the details of seeing Michael Ian Black, two back to back nights of karaoke filled-fun including a rendition of “California Girls” with my MOTHER, and the lazy but oh so amazing day I had on Sunday… but I don’t remember the details of either Friday or Saturday night and I don’t feel the details of Sunday are appropriate for the internet.

However, I will share with you the videos that my mom put together. It’s bad though. Not the video quality- that was pretty spectacular (thanks mom!) but my singing? Not so much.

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My lord it hurts even watching this. I mean really Carissa? REALLY? Why must I always be so freaking dramatic? WHYYYYYY!!!!???? By the by, this was totally sung in the “Old School” “I fucking need you more tonight” version, but my mom didn’t want to have me say fuck on the internet so she edited it out. Weird.

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In other news, today is day numero uno of not smoking. I’m not sure I’ve mentioned it, probably because I wasn’t sure that I was actually going to follow through, but I think 28 is as good as an age as any to quit. It’s not going to get any easier after all but I think I can do this. I’m gonna be a grown up. I just hope I don’t turn into Mel Gibson in the process.

Well I was going to write more, but now I just don’t feel like it so excuse me while I go eat a whole gum ball machine.

Oh and one more thing. I saw this last week and haven’t been able to erase it from my brain.

Sleep well tonight suckers.

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Being sick.

You know what’s worse than just being sick?

Being sick that ISN”T  hungover. Cause if your hungover  then it’s at least a little bit worth it, right?

You know what’s the most worstiest of everything? (it’s a word)

Being sick on a VERY important week.

Duh duh. Duh duh. Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh du…….

(Once again that was my very excellent version of the Jaws theme song, but you probably already knew that!)

No, I wasn’t talking about shark week though that is also very important. In fact, I deemed it so important that I sharked myself on the Discovery channel website.

I am not so good at sharking myself. But I think it looks like a zombie so I'm cool with that.

The term “sharking yourself” sounds kind of dirty doesn’t it?

I know, sometimes it’s like I’m 5  years old or something.

Actually that’s not true at all. A true statement would be “I act like I’m 5 years old or something.”

But what would really be accurate would be if I said “it’s like I’m 28 years old or something,” which is precisely what I will be on this Saturday. So… Happy Birthday me! It’s also my parent’s old (dead) dog’s birthday, or maybe that’s just what they told me when I was 8.

I’m really not so sure how I feel about this Birthday. Twenty eight seems like such an insignificant age, but then again they all sort of do from here on out. Except in my case, I’ll probably count myself lucky for any year that I survive after the age of like 35… in fact I think I’m pretty lucky to have made it this far.

But really… 28.

I had a bit of a freak out the other night when I started thinking about the fact that I am officially in my late twenties. I decided last year that 27 was definitely in the “mid to late twenties category… but 28… there’s no denying it. I really try hard not to dwell on these sort of things, but there are so many things that I thought that I would be by the age of twenty eight. I thought I’d be rich, famous, married to my friend Cameron, own my own zoo, drive a limo (I used to think that was better than riding in one,) have 14 kids, star on Saturday Night Live, and also princess of a far away country. Of course I thought all of this when I was in the third grade after a game of M.A.S.H., but still… Boy was I wrong.

I mean, if I can’t even afford to take care of a pet rat, I’m certainly not on the right road to owning a zoo. Then again, there are days when I really think I’ve done it right. I’m still figuring things out and I think that’s ok. I’m not entirely sure what path I’m on- but I’m still happy with the idea that I could move to Ireland tomorrow if I wanted to. Provided I win the lottery, that is.

Birthdays are a funny thing though. I never know how to act. There are days when I think that I would like to let it simply go unnoticed (LIKE THAT ONE YEAR WHEN I WAS TEACHING DANCE IN NEW YORK AND NOBODY CALLED ME, DON”T THINK I”VE FORGOTTEN BITCHES!) but when it comes down to it- I think I can be down right bratty when it comes to my birthday. It is after all, the one day that I can call my own. I really try not to get that whiny “but it’s MY birthday” attitude… but I’m afraid I’m not very good at that.

My favorite birthday of all time was the year I turned 10. My family got up real early and took my cousins and I fishing. I caught a huge fish that snapped my fishing pole right in half. It was a carp so we didn’t get to keep it, but I didn’t have to worry about things like baiting my own hook back then. When we got home, I was surprised to find that I had gotten my very own purple bicycle, with a basket and everything. The real surprise came when my cousin presented me with a pie in my face. Only it wasn’t a surprise at all, because I had been begging asking to have a pie thrown in my face for my birthday for like 3 years. I was a weird kid who watched entirely too much Nickelodeon.

Despite being sick, this week has already been a pretty smashing birthday week. I started celebrating last Sunday with a little bit of day drinking. We hung out at my favorite dive bar (Adairs, for those of you in Dallas) with a bunch of old guys who were jamming their guitars. I even got to hold one of their glass eyes. Then on Tuesday I won last minute tickets to go see Aerosmith, and he was every bit as sparkly as I imagined he would be.

This weekend my family is coming up to spend my birthday with me for the first time in years, and we’re going to see my favorite comedian of all time – Mr Michael Ian Black.

So instead of getting a pie in my face, I think I’d like to have a Michael Ian black in my face. Or in my mouth. Either way, I’m pumped. My mom also decided that she wants to film a zombie movie, starring me as a zombie- which I’m a little on the fence about. We shall see.

I also am requesting gifts I actually need this year. My list so far:

-3 light bulbs

-pens with a plastic chewable top

-new bed sheets

-a new lap top

-new phone (since I bit and cracked mine)

-my $665 TXU electricity bill to be paid (SERIOUSLY EFFED UP)

-A new car since mine is about to die forever

-John Cusack

So now I will shut my whore mouth and clean house so that my parents don’t find out that I live like a 14 year old boy. A fourteen year old boy who drinks copious amounts of wine.

CHEERS TO YOUR FACE!

PEEE ESSSSS. : I still plan on doing a giveaway for my blog birthday… but I decided to wait until after my birthday so I can give away the gifts that I don’t want for myself.

PEEE PEEE ESSSS (teehee pee pee) If anyone in the area is interested in joining in on some shenanegans this weekend (I’ll be out both nights) just tweet me yo.

Stay tuned.

Well first of all, I’m finally trying to follow through on a New Years Resolution I made back in 2008…. then again in 2009. I gave up making resolutions in 2010, but now I’m determined to give it another shot.

For the last 10 years I’ve lived in the Dallas area, and I’ve never really given the city a chance. I mean… I’d venture out beyond my neighborhood for the odd concert or karaoke bar, but for the most part -I’d long ago written it off as being void of culture, and have said time and again that the most notable thing that this city has going for it is the unbelievable number of Douchengoyles and $30,000 millionaires. The plan has always been to work here in DFW as long as I needed to in order to save a little bit of money, and then to take off for Chicago or New York…

But a few years ago it became clear that I wasn’t going to get discovered on a street corner, and I’m not currently motivated enough to find a job that allows me to live beyond paycheck to paycheck, much less save for a plane ticket to a far away land… Plus, it dawned on me that I really like being in a city where I know people. . I realized that just as I am sometimes quick to deem a girl driving a BMW a bitch or a guy wearing a graphic tee as a douche canoe (which, is actually usually true) I had prematurely judged Dallas as being boring and industrial, with nothing to offer. That’s when I made the decision to make friends with Dallas, to really get to know this city before I pass complete judgment on it.

After college, I interned at the then start-up newspaper Pegasus News, where my “job” consisted of driving around to different neighborhoods and trying to gather information on local restaurants, bars, and entertainment venues for our database, so I already had a vague notion that there was more out there south of Denton and Plano. The last few years I made several attempts at exploring some of these places, but it wasn’t until the last 3 months or so that I’ve really made a conscious effort to delve into my local culture.

I won’t go into detail now, but I will say that I owe a lot of my recent discoveries to twitter, and also the fact that the guy I’ve been dating lives right in the middle of Deep Ellum so it makes it a lot easier when you don’t have to go too far. In the last few weeks I’ve spent some time at local museums, historical hotels, dive bars and comedy clubs, and I’ve been surprised at how much I’ve enjoyed myself. I really wish I would have embraced this fine city years ago. But more than anything else, I’ve really gotten into some of the local music, which to be honest I wasn’t aware existed much outside of Denton. Last week we went to the Dallas Observer Music Award Showcase and had a freaking blast of a time.

My favorite show of the night just happened to coincide with my most recent obsession, and ummmm.. you might know by now what happens when I get obsessionated.

I discovered the Dallas duo  Smile Smile a while back and haven’t listened to much else since. Their new album “Truth on Tape” (that’s the link to purchase on itunes!)  is the best $10.00 I’ve spent in a while, and simultaneously makes me want to laugh and cry. Smile Smile’s is made up of Ryan and Jencey, who were once engaged.. which makes their amazing music and their undeniable chemistry  even more interesting. There’s nothing I love more in the world than genuine music that I can dance to.  Check it.

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Also they are super nice and posed for pics after the show. I know. I’m such a fan girl.

Ryan from Smile Smile!

Smile Smile band (my lazy eye comes out when I'm drunk)

I really can’t talk about local bands without mentioning my other current fave, Sleeperstar. I grew up with their bassist, and had no idea until fairly recently how much they rocked. I cannot wait to see these guys in person, and you really have no excuse for not checking them out. They are pretty much guaranteed to be the next big thing. Love.

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Here is a link to their album on itunes!

As you can see I’ve neglected my blog for perfectly good reasons. I mean, what is a better way to spend time than singing and dancing your heart out?

Speaking of, I’ve also invested a little bit of time into So You Think You Can Dance. As if you’re surprised.  I’m so torn on this season. Every season before I’ve had an absolute favorite. Now I’m not so sure, but I think I’ve decided to route for Robert, because.. umm.. HELLO!!!

Mostly he just kind of sort of reminds me of Mark from a couple of seasons ago. You know, the weird one who wore guyliner but was absofreakin amaze-balls at everything he did? Here’s a little refresher. Sit back and prepare to wipe some drool from your lips.. or maybe I’m a freak.

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*please note, I will now be using sarcasm. I wasn’t using sarcasm when talking about SYTYCD. It IS awesome. It doesn’t really work when I have to point that out, does it?

Besides watching and re-watching quality television, I’ve also seen a few incredibly awesome movies. Like just this week I caught an Emilio Estevez (The Mighty Duck Guy, I swear to God!) classic called Freejack.How this movie didn’t win an Oscar I will never know. And such good special effects. Have a mentioned the acting? Uh-maze-ing.

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And next up? Well I can hardly contain my excitement for this one…

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Alrighty, I’m out just like Lindsay Lohan’s about to be. Happy weekend!

If I say that enough it’s bound to come true right?

A few months ago, I was going through a particularly tough time with some family drama. Naturally, I called my grandmother in tears – who is the last person I should call in these situations. She is a worrier at heart, and probably hasn’t slept since.

Anyboohoohoo- she told me a ritual of hers that she finds extremely helpful. She said that every morning for the last 20 years or so, she has woken up and recited the following statements:

*It will all work out.

*This will be a good day.

*Today I will have more energy.

*Treat yourself as well as you do your dog.

This morning I woke up feeling particularly grouchy, so I decided I’m going to take the advice I learned in a “Fish Training” video long ago. I will choose my attitude. I will take this day by the balls and no gentle fondling will be done. I will write today’s name down on a piece of paper and stomp on it, just like I did to my best friend in the 9th grade when she made me angry. I will be positive and cheerful and not sarcastic in the least bit. And I will recite out my grandma’s mantra and it will work.

It will all work out.

I mean clearly, duhhhh. On my way to lunch I will come across a money tree that sprouts “50 dollar bills y’all” on command. My stomach will learn how to handle the healthy mixture of curry, nilla wafers, and frozen yogurt that I put in it last night. The sandman will move into my room and read me fairy tales every night at 11:00pm. Fed-ex will deliver me a time machine from “anonymous” and I can go back to yesterday and not bite my Droid causing the screen to crack. (Yes. I bit my phone and now it is cracked.) My landlord will call and let me know that since it’s about to be my birthday, we don’t have to pay rent this month. A wizard from outer space will arrive and provide me with all of the mathematical skills that I have been lacking in my life thus far. Magically, my car will stop dying every time I’m in idle. My horoscopes will stop being so vague and start giving me direct recipes on how to live my life.

This will be a good day.

Today all sorts of good things are going to happen. My Pandora is going to be off the hook and play mostly the Beatles with a little bit of Prince and Peter Gabriel, when I psychic-ly tell it to. Cramps and all other symptoms of PMS including annoyance to the millionth degree will immediately subside. Some vendor will bring me lunch so I don’t have to move or spend money. My boyfriend John Cusack will finally tweet me back that he loves me and admit that I’m not a psycho. .I will not lock my keys in the car with the car running today. My hair will not look like I rubbed a balloon all over it. I will not sit on a beetle or step on a slug. If I happen to open a bag of pretzels, it will not explode all over my office. I will wear my underwear the right way, and not backwards causing a righteous wedgie. When it’s afternoon I will answer the phone with “Good afternoon!” and not with “good morning” or “Good Larry” like I did yesterday.

Today I will have more energy.

I will go to the gym after work. I will not use “it’s raining,” “I have cramps,” “There are smelly people in that class,” “I’m tired,” or “there are Fresh Prince reruns on” as an excuse to skip out.

Treat yourself as well as you do your dog.

I will let myself eat loads of peanut butter and cheese. And I don’t have to shower… and I think that might negate all this gym talk. Yeahhhh.. I think I’m just gonna let myself be as lazy as I want.

So yeah… this will be a good day.

Blog Birthday that is. What the what!? I sat down to write my first post in 2 weeks and I realized that somehow the fact that today marks one year of blogging was about to fly by my face without me even noticing it. I know it’s been a while- but holy mother of my soul, this is literally the longest I’ve ever stayed committed to ANYTHING! Oh sure, I posted a while back about my Cameraversary, where I celebrated an entire year without losing a camera, but this is different. I’m a quitter. I quit everything, except for the few vices that I really should quit. I get tired of things. And though it may seem like I’ve grown tired of this… I really haven’t- and this is just the fire under my bootie that I need to get things flowing again.

But since I have been majorly sucking at blogging as of late, I’ve decided to wait and celebrate until my real birthday- in about 2 weeks or so. Soooo… In two weeks expect a fantabulous giveaway. I’ll be talking about that more in the weeks to come, but for now- I MUST POST ON.

I promised myself that when I finally got around to updating the old blog, I wouldn’t get all schmoozy and apologize for my lack of presence on the internet. But then every time I sit down to write, I end up opening my reader, read a few posts, then start feeling simultaneously guilty and overwhelmed for not being a better blogger/blog friend. So I’m just going to say it this once. I’M SORRY! I SUCK AT LIFE! DRAGON EELS SHOULD EAT MY FACE!

That being said, I haven’t written for lack of topic. Everyday I write a million ideas down on pieces of scrap paper- but those seem to get lost in the clusterfuck that is my purse. Other times I write things down on my hand- but somehow- even though I rarely shower (Hey! I’m just doing my part to be green) it  smudges off and all I’m left with is a scraggly “mdio ___ asdji” and I don’t even know Japanese, so that does me no good.

More than anything, I feel that I should catch you up on the happenings of my life as of late, but I don’t know where to start. So much has happened, yet so little. In order to get started in blogging again in an orderly fashion, I decided to ask the ye ole faithful people of twitter and facebook for a few words of inspiration. And by inspiration I didn’t mean encouraging words, because that would have done crap. I just asked for random words, which I will now try  to justify by relating them to the events of my life the last few weeks. Which is sort of like an improv game, and I love that.

Here.We.Go….. Or. Something. Like. That.

From @technicalparent –Diffident: I’m not gonna lie, I had to look this one up. It means something like “hesitant to speak because of lack of self confidence.” Hmmmmmmmm….. HMMMMMMMMM. This may be a stretch, but there have been a few times these last few weeks where I’ve had to test my comfortability-ness. (I believe that if you add “ness” to any word, it makes it correct. Your face.) Not so much in the realms of speaking, but more when it comes to my body. Like the other day, I wore a pair of pants that were way to big. I couldn’t even walk without my pants falling down and that wasn’t cool. I’m pretty sure tens of people saw my panties. And then just this Monday I made the mistake of wearing a shirt that was too big without a tanktop. I had to tuck the sleeves around my bra straps. In my office. Because I’m classy like that. But none of those compare to the fact that the entire nation of campers saw me in all my glory when I decided to sleep in a tent, in the nude, with the flap open, on 4th of July weekend. Just trying to serve my country, Yanno.

From @KidtoGrownUp– Swizzle Stick: I’m not sure what that means but I’m assuming you mean that stick that makes my car go. Right? Actually I have had some issues with that lately. For the last three years or so I’ve had to have a screw driver in the hole just to get my car to get out of park. The other day I couldn’t get it in the hole. It just… wouldn’t go in. Turns out there was a bobby pin stuck in there.

BAHAHAHA. This is actually a true story.

From @SamtheMailman (AKA my white trash twitter hub) Noodles: I can’t eat them. I don’t do well with bread at all. I’m pretty sure I’m allergic. But I absolutely love them. So last week I decided to go ahead and splurge on some spicy korean ramen dish at Pei Wei. It wasn’t great so I added about 2 cups of Rooster sauce. I still can’t sit right.

From @MrCondescending– Nocturnal: That is precisely what I’ve been for the last few months. Only, unfortunately, I’ve also had to be Dayturnal- which doesn’t make day- life very fun. I’ve always been a little bit nocturnal but I’m usually at least a little productive in the wee hours of the night. It doesn’t really affect me until I’m driving though, so no biggie- unless your one of the million people driving in Dallas during rush hour.

From @Leowuzhere Spatchula– hmmm Well I basically eat eggs everyday so I use a “spatula.” But Spatchula.. That sounds like something spanish. I think that is what I shall call the corn that I have on my right toe. I suppose I can make that relevant to my last few weeks because that thing is UGGGLEEEE.

From @KarisaTellsAll Anesthesize: Just last night I took some Benadryl at about 1AM. I was definitely anesthesized. And felt like I drank a 12 pack this morning. In reality, I only had like 4 beers. Not cool Benadryl, not cool.

From @Technicalparent — Spelunking: While I did find a few alternative meanings for this word in the Urban dictionary, I’m gonna go with the actual meaning. Cave diving. Right? I cleaned out my car a couple weeks ago. I found about 30 dollars in quarters, 14 french fries, my glasses with one arm broken off, and about 3 pairs of panties. I have no idea why they are in my car.

From @hellofrancy Attraction: I only mention boys on my site for 3 reasons. A. They are douchenozzles from the present and need to be outed B. They are douchenozzles from the past and I can laugh about my time with them. Or C. I’m kinda smitten, but I don’t like to do that much. But I can always erase this so yes, I’m a but of a smitten pussycat, as the foreign might say. Besides that, I’ve also realized I have an attraction to brussell sprouts, which is quite surprising since I’ve spent my entire life making vomiting noises anytime I hear the word. I have also realized that cops still have an attraction to me. The other day I got a warning, because it seems that walking on a street is now illegal in Texas.

From @NickSilly Sailboat: I had a discussion about sailboats the other day. They seem like the worst kind of boating ever. Too much work.

From @Tequila_K –(1st choice) Karaoke: I have had a seriously lack of karaoke in my life the last few weeks.. but I’ve been thinking seriously about all the songs I want to sing in the near future.  If I don’t find someone to sing “Paradise By the Dashboard Light” with me in the next two weeks then I will eat raw chicken.

From @Tequila_K –(Second Choice) Tequila: My roommate LA introduced me to my new favorite drink evah! It’s called a Paloma. It’s grapefruit juice, tequila, soda, salt and lime… and it is the most refreshing thing that has ever hit my lips. Do it.

From @Tequila_K– (Put em’ Together) TequilaKaraoke: I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I know just what happens to me when I combine the two. You see, once I get a little bit of tequila in me, I will use absolutely anything as a microphone. And if I happen to be gettin it on? ….. crickets….. get it? Yeah, that’s what I call tequila karaoke. In the last few weeks though? No comment.

From @JeneyPeney (via facebook) Snorkel: Come on! Let’s refer to spelunkering. I could do so much with this, but I’m not gonna go there. And also I’m tired.

From @jpryan06 Persnickity: While urban dictionary tells me that “persnickity” can mean making out, I also happen to have looked up know that it can mean being nit picky, which I rarely am. You may be aware that I am one of the least nit picky people in the world. In fact, I probably won’t even spell check this mother before I hit publish. I have realized, that dating someone- makes me a little more conscious of the details when it comes to my body. I still haven’t mastered being lady like,and I most likely never will, but I have seriously put a major effort into shaving my legs, plucking my eyebrows, and cupping my hand over my chin when I notice I have a hair growing out of it. Being a “lady” is a lot of work.

From Eric via Facebook: Grease: I may have put a minor effort into being more lady like, but I still have a lot of that shiz in my hair. Nothing baby powder can’t fix though. Also, it’s the word.

From my HS Dance Teacher–Booger: Still hate them.

From JRoberts via facebook– Ointment: I haven’t used any. I have, started using under eyecream, which is sort of an ointment.

From @NickSilly Providential: I had to look this one up too. I’ve always been one to spout out my “beliefs” of fate, and how the universe works in mysterious ways, because I’ve always wanted to believe in those things, but really haven’t… I’ve even been known to bust out some Tarot cards in your face. Though I admit now that I completely bullshit my way through reading (kind of like I did here,) but I dunno. I keep finding myself thinking that things work out for a reason. I’ve been having all these weird dreams that I’m not going to go into, but it all seems to mean something. Bah. I’m tipsy. And probably going to erase this entire post. Mostly I’m hoping that Providential will work it’s ways on me and my neighbor will knock on my door with a giant bowl of hummus.

A girl can dream right?

I’ll see you sooner than later! Have a great weekend!