Holy mother of my soul, have you heard of Grace Potter?

If you haven’t then you definitely need to google that shit right now. Or here, check out a video. Prepare to have your face and panties melted off.

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The other day I asked twitter (as I so often do,) for some reccomendations on some new tunes. 3 or 4 people suggested this amazing woman. Her name sounded familiar, and I knew that she was playing at Austin City Limits in a few weeks, but I had never actually taken the time to listen to her. So I paid 9.99 for her cd on itunes, along with $89 worth of other music, and I had my mind blown.

A few days later I won 2 pairs of tickets to her show here in Dallas. I fell in love.

I mean really.

I’ve never had a lesbian thought in my life, unless you count my crush on Robin Williams as Mrs Doubtfire, but I found myself looking over at my friend Moops and agreeing when he said she was the hottest woman on the planet. She wore a sexy little sequined number that made me want to shake my booty.

I wasn’t actually being serious about having sexual thoughts for this woman, but that night I did happen to have my first lesbian dream, so there must have been something going on.

Granted, my dream was about an encounter with Meryl Streep- which was just oogie. Don’t get me wrong. I would probably get it on with Meryl Streep if she asked, because after all she is Meryl Streep, and who knows!? Maybe some of her awesomeness and talent would literally rub off on me, but she’s not exactly my first choice.

Moving on.

Besides seeing Grace Potter and having lesbian dreams, not much has been happening in the “”World o’ Carissa.” I kind of like it that way.

I realized that for the last 4 months or so, I’ve been going completley non-stop. Every weekend, I’ve either had a wedding or a birthday or an extreme depression due to heartbreak to deal with, and while most of that was fun, it has also been quite exhausting. I’ve tried to take the last few weeks to get back to the important stuff… you know… Me.

I went home this last weekend to visit my family, and didn’t do a damn thing other than eat, watch movies, eat, stare at a blank computer screen, eat, take a walk, and read old journal entries. Oh, and eat.

I did do a little bit of pondering while I was eating. I tried to stay away from any thoughts that would really disturb my good eating vibes, so I focused on things that have been bothering me for a while.

Specifically.

Mermaids.

OK. So we all know that mermaids are these beautiful beings that want nothing more than to be able to walk on land.  We also know that they often fall in love with human men, and presumably want to have sex with them.

Fine, I get it. You always want what you can’t have.

So we can presume that when a mermaid turns into a human she gets all the normal human body parts needed for reproduction and what not. Right?

But what I don’t get, what “they” never tell us, is how mermaids procreate when they are still mermaids. They are more than willing to let us know that mermaids have breasts, sometimes breasts that are only covered up long locks of hair. But they never even attempt to explain how mermaids make babies…. or even how they pee, for that matter.

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s all a conspiracy. They want us to believe that mermaids are pure and beautiful, and that they don’t have anything akin to my roommate’s dog’s set of vag-tags.

Well I’m here to tell you now, IT”S ALL LIES!!!

I’m not sure what they have in place of human-lady bits; but I am positive that they have something. “They” just don’t want us to know about it for fear that mermaids will lose part of their magic, that and their marketing ability.

Like I said, I’m no expert…  but I do have plans to get to the bottom of this. For now, all I have is a hypothesis, and it looks a little something like this…

A few years ago some genius, and I do mean genius, created a site called “Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop.com. The site is no longer active, but from my extensive research- (one quick google search) it seems that the whole site was simply dedicated to this picture.

I think there was even a movement to try to get people to print out the picture and post it in bathroom stalls around the world. I know the site is no longer active, but I think I’m going to do it anyway. Maybe I can restart the movement… because goshdarnit, I would die of laughter if I went into a bathroom and Jeff Goldblum was watching me poop.

Or maybe I should switch it up a bit.

This might sound strange, but I’ve always thought that Jeff Goldblum looks nearly identical to Orlando Jones, yaknow- except for that whole skin color thing. So I’m thinking we intensify the whole movement and replace Mr. Goldblum with his identical non-twin…

But then again, my mom (always one to tell it like it is) once told my friend Moops that he looks exactly like Jeff Goldblum… So maybe I should go the obscure route and use his pic instead…

(Isn’t it incredibly absurd that 3 people can look so much alike-ish?!?)

So I think you should all print out that last pic and hang it up in restrooms worldwide. I’m thinking this could really catch on. Or not…

And just so you know…

That show was made of awesomesauce.

OK so I have been so absent from the internets the last few weeks. I’ve been trying my best to read all of your blogs and I’ve done my best to keep up, but to be completely honest, it’s hard with a job where you actually have to work. Then add in the fact that I’m trying to have a social life (haha) and then I have the option of spending my night on the patio drinking beer and then to do amazing stuff like this!…

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I’ll be back next week!!

As you may remember, I started a new job a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve abso-loving it so far. The people are great, I love how close it is to home, and my days FLY by! Seriously, before it felt like I was living in the land of 18 hour work days, and now I barely even have time to reach for a kleenex when I sneeze. I said barely people, gross as I may sometimes be- I do reach for a kleenex most of the time when I sneeze, especially when I’m in public. I even keep a bottle of hand sanitizer near-by for those close-nose-calls.

Although, speaking of sneezes, there was this one sneeze in my life that I am particularly proud of. We were at a house party so I made LA accompany me to the bathroom so we could have old-fashioned gal-potty time and discuss the actions of all the Douchengoyles at the party. (Julie mentioned it today, but just in case you missed it- “Douchengoyle” is basically the best word ever! It’s a combo of 2 of our favorite terms for ass-hat boys, “douchecanoe” and “gargoyle”.)

Anydouche, whenever I drink I usually have to sneeze a million times. Actually, I have to sneeze about 5 times after anytime I consume mostly ANYTHING. I have no idea why that is, but it’s quite annoying. I’m starting to think I have a wheat allergy, because it mostly happens when I drink beer or eat anything bready.

So I was sitting on the toilet (#1) when a giant sneeze started to arise from the deepest dark embarrassing parts of my body. I sneeze often, but I rarely have the types of sneezed that literally take over all of my abilities to do or think about anything else. This time though, the sneeze was all encompassing. I’m not sure if I had finished peeing at the point of combustion, but if I hadn’t it definitely shook my blatter clean. I’m fairly sure I didn’t even have to wipe for the next week. One hand was incapacitated with my drink, and the other with toilet paper, so I had no way to cover my mouth, or in this case, my nostrils. After all was said and done, I knew that a fair amount of mucus had made it’s way out of my body, I just couldn’t find where it landed. That is until LA reached for the doorknob to leave the bathroom. Ah yeah… it flew right across the room and landed perfectly square on the doorknob. I probably shouldn’t be so proud, but I kind of am, so judge if you want.

In other news, LA and I finally found some time to unpack a few boxes this afternoon, namely the ones with all of the books in them. It’s weird, for the last few weeks I have felt an emptiness inside of me that couldn’t put my finger on. It wasn’t until tonight when we finally got all of the books up on the shelves that we spent so many hours painting, that I finally realized that I was really missing my books. It’s been over 2 months since I’ve picked up a book to read, which is absolutely crazy for me… It’s not that even I miss reading all that much, although I suppose I do a bit, it’s more that books make me feel good, they make me feel comfortable and at home.

I grew up in a home where books were super important. There wasn’t a room in the house that didn’t have a bookshelf except for the bathrooms… though there were always plenty of books lying around in there as well. Both of my parents are huge readers, and there were weekends when I can remember everyone in my family sitting around in our perspective comfy-spaces with a good book. Even when it was time to eat, or if someone had to go to the bathroom, there was no need to put the book down, we would simply walk around with the book in hand, bumping into walls and each other as we tried to make our way around the house. I probably don’t own a book that isn’t stained with ketchup.

When I was a kid, my mom worked part time at a half-priced bookstore, so I spent much of my summer vacations and weekends there. It was the coolest little place. Each genre had it’s own room. The walls were covered with book and movie posters, and there was a huge section just for comics. I also spent a lot of time hanging out at the headshop next door, but that’s a whole nuther post.

So yeah… books make me feel good. Just having them around me. Plus there is something about owning a collection of anything, and books and movies are my two favorite things to collect. Whenever I get upset or anxious, I will spend hours reorganizing my books and DVDs.

But there is something else about books that I have missed, and since I’ve already gone to a TMI place tonight, I figure I’ll continue on with that.

JOHN CUSACK, If you’re reading… please stop now!

You see, I never really have problems with going… number 2. I keep quite a regular schedule, especially since I’ve changed my eating habits. But lately I feel that things have been a bit off… Then I remembered about the secret magical power that books have for me. I mean… All I have to do is look at a book and I feel like all my assues are solved. I literally cannot walk into a Barnes and Nobles without having to go-go. I have never been able to figure out if it’s the fact that I associate reading with going, or if it’s the smell of coffee… but it is the most natural laxative EVER!

Anyone else have this problem amazing miracle cure with books and bookstores?

And since we’re not on the subject, but ever so slightly related… I read about this really great product today. Whether you have a man or a dog, I think it could really be helpful…

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

Before I get started, I have some news that I will tell you with a heavy heart. This is the last week that Lilu will be hosting TMI Thursday. Don’t worry, there will still be plenty of overshare here on the ole’ bloggity-blog, it’s just not going to be on a certain day of the week.

I want to give a huge huge HUMONGO thanks to Lilu, because without her and her TMI Thursdays, I wouldn’t have “met” many of you.  Seriously. I never thought reading about poop and pee and periods and jizz and sex could be so fun. Well I knew the sex part would be fun, but not the rest.

I had thought of a few different things that I wanted to do for today. One was to do a sum of all my past TMIs… perhaps in a song or a poem, but I really didn’t have time. Then there was something completely disgusting that happened to me earlier this week, but it’s just too soon. I haven’t even gotten a chance to do laundry yet.

So instead I give you this.

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I know most of you are probably going to think I’m a major prude when I tell you this but- despite the fact that I’m 27 years old…  until last weekend I’d never baited my hook. I mean…  I’d touched worms before. I’d even held one in my hand a few times, but I didn’t like it. They just feel so awkward, you know?

So I decided that the time had come for me to grab that bait by the balls and stick it, stick it hard. You know, show him who was boss. Turns out, it wasn’t even a worm but a minnow- so you know, I figured it would be an easy catch.

I had heard that the first time wouldn’t be a pleasurable experience, that it may even hurt a little, but I had no idea it was going to be this bad. Even the lead up was awful. I couldn’t even get a hold of it to stick it in, it just kept slipping away.

Well, I guess you can see the end result yourself….

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This video was shot with no intention doubling your entendre, but when I heard the audio, I was like… Dude! If I wasn’t watching this, I would think it was a really bad porn. Then I heard my dad’s voice.

Ewwwwwww

(Turn and face the strain)

Ah yes… David Bowie. I love that man.

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

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

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

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

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

Then again there are some things that never change.

For instance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yeah.

That’s how my night played out.

Next time I’ll win. It’ll be epic.

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

Also if you haven’t yet entered my awesome giveaway, you should really do so now!

I have a few “dare” videos in the works, and I  can’t wait to get them up. However, I wasn’t able to get the one I’m working on editing ready  just yet, so instead I’ve decided to give you a video post, for reasons that will become obvious to you. Keep them dares coming though!!! I DARE YOU BYATCH!

So I have decided to share, what some of you may view to be highly offensive story about a dating experience that I had. Please understand that I am in no way intentionally dissing anyone. This tale is more about my specific experience with a man, and things just didn’t happen to work out even though I really liked the guy. We just had a few… issues. I am struggling as to whether or not to even post this, but I have decided that each 100th post should now be slightly non-pc. So hate me if you want, but I really mean no harm by this. I hope you enjoy! I had to make a few editing adjustments, just because the subject matter may be reading this blog. That might make the whole ordeal even more offensive, but… oh well…

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Also, since I just remembered this was my 200th post, please go enter my latest giveaway in honor of my 200th post. It’s only open until April 4th so you better get a move on. Seriously. You could win a really awesome rockin cd, or at least get introduced to a really cool dude.

Last week, I asked you, my dear readers, to give some requests for dares that I said I would complete on this blog. While I have to admit, the one I want to complete the most (dressing up as Cookie Monster and scaring girl scouts) is still at the top of the list, but I have not yet been able to find a costume that would make me look anything remotely like Cookie Monster.  If you have any ideas please let me know.

For this reason,  I have decided to stick with the first dare that was given to me for my first attempt. This particular dare was submitted by my good friend KT (you crazy, hateful, woman.) When I first told her about my truth or dare idea over g-chat, she asked me to eat an entire box of altoids in one sitting. Her reason? Because I love mints and am constantly trying to push them on everyone. My reply? Only if your breath be stankin!

I’m really scared about this one, but I’m not one to turn down a dare. Wait. Do altoids hurt your stomach? They kinda look like tums, so I’m just going to pretend that is what they are…

Here. We. Go.

**The video/audio/lighting/AND MY HAIR is extremely poor quality. Please excuse all of these.  ESPECIALLY THE HAIR! IT LOOKS LIKE ALPHA ALPHA!!! I DON”T KNOW WHY LA DIDN”T STOP ME!

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The outcome? I did it! My nose is running and my wine doesn’t taste very good, but all in all it wasn’t as difficult as I had imagined. I also think I should get a pass for brushing my teeth for a week. Just kidding… kinda.

Also, while these curiously strong  mints are only 10 calories per 25 of those suckas, the whole box comes out to a whole 250 calories. So it looks like I’m gonna have to do a few extra laps this week.

I think my boyfriend John Cusack would be proud.

If you would like to suggest another DARE or TRUTH for that matter, do it, do it, do it in the comments!

That being said, let’s do this shiz!

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, and check out her TMI Thursday archives for all sorts of hilarity!
Due to the fact that I wrote a novel yesterday, I decided to settle for  video blogging, so I don’t have to make you read any more (but mostly because I didn’t feel like writing.) I’m not sure how many of these you have to do before you start feeling comfortable in front of the camera, but I’m still not there yet!

For the first, I present you with the top 10 things that really make me want to vomit.

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And even more embarrassing than a simple video blog, I present you with an extremely embarrassing video of me singing a parody that I wrote of “A Few of My Favorite Things,” called “My hated Things.” My boyfriend John Cusack probably won’t like me much after this one. Enjoy, and I’m sorry.

***This is fictitious, and I have not necessarily experienced all that I mention.

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And in case there are any of you that have stopped by that can’t watch the videos because you are at work or what not… I told one of my friends about the subject matter mentioned in my videos, and she sent me a picture of her boyfriend’s toenail. Nosir.com

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

Before I get started, there are a few thoughts I need to get off my chest (as if I didn’t do enough of that yesterday.) I skipped last week’s TMI post, not because I am out of awkward, embarrassing, situations to share with you- but due to the fact that I’ve been thinking a little bit about how much I’ve shared… or rather, over-shared in the past. I’ve said it a thousand times before, but for the most part-I don’t care much if people judge me for what I post here. It’s my life, these things have happened…. similar things have happened to everyone, (right?!?!) just not everyone is willing to share them with you. And maybe they are smarter for it.

I recently got into a conversation with one of my best guy friends about my blog. I rarely talk to my real life friends about what I post,  mostly because while I’m glad they are reading, I sometimes like to pretend that they don’t know all of my deepest thoughts and the crazy things I think about daily.  My friend told me that from a guy’s (his)  point of view-my TMI posts have sometimes gone a little too far… I’m not saying he is right, but seeing as though more than half of my readers come to my site from Facebook, (I don’t know who you are, only where you come from) and 99.5% of my Facebook friends are friends and family that I know in real life, I’m not always so sure I want these people reading about my periods and “accidents” and past hookups. Not that it really matters what I want, if they want to- it’s out there. But still, it’s just something that I’ve been pondering ever since I went public with my blog. On the other hand though, I love reading other people’s stories… and I’m a very open person, so chances are I would tell you these things in person anyway.

Anyway, it’s just something I have been thinking about… but not enough to quit these oh-so-fun posts altogether, because who am I? Yeah, I thought so. But I do apologize if I have offended you in any way, and if that’s the case… then don’t read it!

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So today’s post IS actually one of the periodo category, but an innocent one. But still quite embarrassing.

Fella’s, feel free to make your exit now  if this makes you uncomfortable. Or anyone else for that matter.  (I wouldn’t like John Cusack reading this after all.)

You may rememeber the traumatic experience that I had when I first started at a very young age. If you don’t feel like clicking and reading (you lazy ass) I’ll give you the short version.

Basically, I started the summer that I turned 10 while I was on vacation visiting family. By myself. I had no idea what a period was, and I basically thought that I was dying from some kind of weird cancer that made me poo out the wrong hole. It was terrifying, really.

So a few years later when I was going into the 8th grade, I was still quite innocent about the  whole “woman-hood” experience. I was really getting into dance and had just made the cheer leading squad.

All of you ladies know that pads are just the devil, especially when it comes to any kind of physical activity. Plus they are just gross. Who wants to sit around on their junk all day? Anyways, I won’t get into that now, but at the time I was still (like most young girls) in the pad-stage.

Because I was having to wear tights and a leotard to my dance classes and bloomers with my cheer leading uniform, my mother decided it was time to grad-ee-ate to ye ole tampon. Another notion that to a 12 year old, was really just too much to take in. I remember sitting there, reading the instructions on the back of the box, not being able to fathom actually conquering the task.

After a few failed attempts at insertion, I finally had to ask my mom for assistance. After some detailed instruction and a few more failed attempts, the task was finally done.

Some may say that you become a woman when you start your period, I think it is really when you put in your first tampon. HURRAHHH!! I was a proud woman.

For a few hours, that is.

After a few uncomfortable hours, it was inevitably time to take it out, and attempt the whole procedure again… this time with hopes that I could actually do it with ease.  So I went into the bathroom with my confidence in store. I found the little stringy thing and gave it a tug.

Nothing.

I tried again.

Wouldn’t come out.

You know that feeling you get when you walk out on the alligator pier at the zoo and you stick your head between the gates to get a better look at the alligators and then your head gets stuck in between the bars, and you are for sure you are going to get eaten as an afternoon snack???

Well I do. And it’s scary. This wasn’t quite as scary, but it was still up there.

To make a long story short, I cried once again to my mother, (my poor mom) who (I will spare you the details) basically had to remove it for me. And it wasn’t an easy task.

We knew something wasn’t right with the situation, so a few days later my 12 year old self had my very first appointment with the gyno. Not. Fun.

I still remember that appointment as being one of the most uncomfortable hours of my life, and I partially blame that day on my fear of doctors. Sooooo… he (yes, he) checked out the lady bits, and afterward called my mother and I into his office for a meeting. I was as nervous as a fat girl waiting to be picked for the kickball team, and I unfortunately  know this feeling from experience too.

“Well, it seems that since she started her period so early, the um, hole, was not completely developed.”

What????

“Yes, when it is time for a girl to start her menstrual cycle, the skin over the hole falls off, hers only partially fell off- which has made it impossible to wear tampons.”

(I’m sure he said this all in a way more “doctor-ly” manner, but this is how I remember it, sue me.)

WHATTTTTT?

At this point he drew me a little diagram of a circle with a line straight through the middle of it. “This is what yours looks like.” He then drew a circle without a line through it. “This is what it is supposed to look like.

This confirmed what I knew to be true since I was 2 and had to start wearing an eye-patch for my lazy eye.

I was a freak of nature.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, but she won’t be able to… “have babies” unless she undergoes surgery.”

So now, I was not only a freak, but I also wouldn’t be able to have babies??? I may have only been 12, but I thought that babies might, maybe, perhaps-ly be something I might at least want to think about in the future. I went into panic mode as my mom set up the appointment for my surgery. I didn’t say another word until I was safe in the passenger seat of my mother’s car.

I started sobbing. “So… I might not be able to have babies??” This was all too much for my little brain to handle.

My mom, once again, had to set me straight. “It’s not so much that you wouldn’t be able to have babies, but one day you may want to do the act that you do in order to make babies. And yes, you will need to have the surgery in order to do that.

Oh.

I ended up going through with the surgery on my hoo-hoo, which I really don’t remember… Except for the fact that after I came to, many of my family members came to visit me and I was quite embarrassed that they all knew exactly why I was in the hospital. I also made the mistake of telling my best friends at school, who told their friends… so when I returned a few days later walking funny, I’m pretty sure everyone knew why.

Awesome.

So yeah. I have that.