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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________

Jake 1 week ago

_______

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

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

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

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

Against All Odds

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

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

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

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

So my response?

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

Remember how a few weeks ago I told you that my friend Moops has been wanting to start a blog? Well he’s been working on it. He’s even written a few posts, but nothing is live yet- and he’s not sure he wants me to reveal him to the world just yet. However, I did convince him to write a guest TMI post for me since my life has just gotten absolutely crazy the last few weeks. Maybe after reading his awesomeness you can help me convince him that he needs to go public!!!

And without further adieu, I present to you: Moops…

I am about to share a most pathetic tale of over indulgence; this story goes down as one of the worst nights of drinking I have ever had!  Wait a minute, who am I kidding?  I have a resume full of bad nights…with references.

Let me preface the detail of this story with the fact that I am not a delinquent, I have a good job, I contribute to society every now and then, and all in all I’m a pretty decent individual; I just get really drunk from time to time.  I’m about to be 30; I feel that I am fast approaching (or have long past) that threshold where getting boozed up and stripping down to my boxers can be considered acceptable if not slightly amusing behavior (not that that sort of conduct is ever acceptable). In my opinion, drunken behavior is on sort of a sliding scale. For example, when you’re in college, you can get naked and jump on a pogo stick in the front yard and it’s cool; but as age increases, even the slightest drunken mishap can be highly inappropriate and or embarrassing, and for me- this seems to happen at an exponential rate.

And so the story goes.  Halloween 2009.  At the time I was dating a girl who’s birthday was at the end of October. It so happened that her roommate’s birthday fell right around the same time, so they decided to throw a sort of joint birthday/Halloween party.

The night went like this- keg beer, lots of keg beer, my consumption could probably have been measured in gallons; this was supplemented with a cornucopia of shots, you name it I drank it; and then there were the few games of flip cup I participated in. PERFECT, I was ready to go, nothing could stop me, time to hit the bars.

Bar # 1 – I was now at the level of intoxication where I think I am inherently wealthy and feel the need to buy a round of shots for everyone within a 10′ radius of me. I remember the first shot, rupplemintz – GREAT IDEA!

I don’t remember much of the bar scene after that initial round; but from some forensic investigating I conducted in the days that followed, mainly examining my three separate tabs (all different cards,) subsequent bars were visited and many shots consumed.

Fast Forward – A couple of hours later we were back at the house for the after party – yeah, this thing doesn’t stop.  I start emerging from my self induced anesthesia, good, I made it back in one piece, I even somehow managed to make it to the couch and lie down, WAY TO GO!  But wait a minute, it seems that the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed over the last 12 hours combined with my horizontal position on the couch was making me a little nauseous, make that a lot nauseous, yep I was about to puke.  My body seemed to be paralyzed, so there I was, on this girls nice white couch vomiting a vile substance while a host of characters looked on. Some watched in amusement but most watched in horror (when I say characters I literally mean characters…it was Halloween).  29 years old, and I just puked on myself, just wait it gets better.  I was then thoroughly scolded and clumsily escorted upstairs and thrown into my girlfriend’s bed.

I did attempt one more trip downstairs for an alcohol fueled spirited conversation with my girlfriend, not sure what prompted this one.  There was one eyewitness account that I actually fell up the stairs (vs. down the stairs), pretty impressive.

My first lucid moments the next morning were a bit of a sensory overload; my head was pounding, my mouth was completely dry, my contacts were shriveled up like little raisins in my eyes, my body was totally void of any hydration and my pants were wet, OH SHIT!  MY PANTS…I PISSED THE BED!!!!!!!  At this point I quickly gathered my things, walk downstairs past all of the girls sleeping on a pallet and left, didn’t say a word to anyone.  AWESOME night!  Not only did I puke in front of everyone, but I pissed the bed too, definite high point!  It’s on my way home, with quite possibly the worst moral hangover ever, that I pulled my phone out and tried to make a call; it wouldn’t turn on, great.  You see, my phone was in my pocket when I passed out, it was around the pocket region of my pants that there was the highest concentration of urine; hence my phone not working.  I think I am the only person who has ever pissed on their own phone rendering it useless.

A side note:  Two days prior to the incident I had moved into a new apartment by myself, literally all I had was a bed (I do have furniture now – FYI), so not only did I not have any furniture or cable- but now I didn’t have a functioning phone either. Hungover- this is particularly  lonely and depressing state to be in.  I was forced to go to the Fiesta grocery store down the street to use the pay phone.

In the mean time though, I figured it was time to check out my google search terms. Every so once in a while, I like to check and see how people are ending up on my blog. I have a huge heart, as you know, and I really hate for people to end up on my page and leave empty-handed. Therefore, I will make yet another attempt of satisfying people’s search terms, just in case they end up back here with the same problems/questions. I have to say, some of you people are extremely fucked up. Even more so than I am!

But here goes!

Make him suck it: I’m not exactly sure what “it” you are speaking of, but girl (or boy) if all else fails, try peanut butter. There is a girl in every high school who would give you the same advice, I’m sure.

I’m in a great mood all day cause I’ve been slapping my troubles away: I do hear it helps!! I’m not sure what you’re looking for, since your already in a good mood… but as far as advice goes, use lube to avoid chaffing!!

Dreaming of poo: MEEEE TOOOO!!!!! I have a recurring “shit myself at work” dream!!  I’ve done a little research on this matter myself, as it has been quite disturbing. I’ve found out that dreaming of poo usually means that there is something in your life that you need to discard of. Or you might see yourself as dirty or negative, which I don’t… so I’m not sure why I have this. According to Freud, “feces is related to possession, pride, shame, money/financial matters, or aggressive acts. So to dream that you are playing with feces, symbolizes your anxiety over money matters and financial security. ” That, I can see.

Stalk Carissa Plano blog: Not cool… not cool at all dude. I dunno who you are, but if you are reading this you are not welcome. The same goes for those who got here searching Carissa Plano blog, Carissa Jade from Waco website, and Hot big boob Carissa Plano….

Scare cockatoos using electricity: I reallllllllly wish I could be more helpful on this one, because I would like to know myself!!! My mom has one of these horribly annoying creatures, and as far as I can tell, your best bet would be to actually stick it’s foot in a socket. I’ll let you know how it goes next time I visit my mom.

Sexy eye patch: Well since you most likely weren’t looking for a picture of me as a child, you were clearly looking for this picture that my mom photo-shopped and sent to me last week. Righhhtt? She thought it was clever because I used to wear an eye patch and all…. hmmph.

Show me a photo of what a condom looks like: Glad to be at your service. DONE.

I am totally jaded after my last relationships and have decided to be alone forever: Hmmm… I feel ya there. But you know what? Chin up young person, (unless your old, mean and dirty) chances are you are just in a very bad mood and things will look better in a day or two. I say, get all dressed up, go to a bar, and find yourself a quick fix. Who am I kidding? That never works. Eat a gallon of ice cream, drink a big bottle of wine, take a hot bath, and listen to some Death Cab… I don’t know if it will help anything, but that’s what I do when I’m feeling that way, and if nothing else- I get a good therepeutic cry out of it!

Why do i like pissing on myself?: Probably because you are either very weird or very cold.

Santa i want the list of all bad girls: Well I don’t have a list of all of them, but you are off to a good start here! I suggest try some porn sites or ask some of those crazy bitches from Jersey Shore.

Making carissa s boobs feel good: Well somebody sure is considerate!!! Lets start with a comfy bra, or if we’re really trying to make them feel good then no bra. Warmth is always good, so if you’ve got cold hands, then stay away! And as far as anything else goes, I’ll tell you if it doesn’t feel nice. Thankyouverymuch.

Ambien writing: I don’t recommend it, or you might end up with something as awful as this post.

What does it mean when some one says and so is your face? It doesn’t matter WHAT it means, all you need to know is that it WORKS EVERY TIME!!

Good hard things to hump maybe a couch: Yes a couch is a good place to start. Also you might want to try the side of a chair, the console of your car, a picnic table bench, a balance beam, a traffic cone, a bar stool, a piano bench, a  microphone,  a teddy ruxpin… Ok I’ve said to much. Good Luck!

Chad kroeger is the face of all the things wrong with this planet: I suppose you are looking for affirmation, and if this is the case then HELL YES, you are correct.

Smell dirty nasty jock butthole –For serious yall, SIX people got here by this search term in December. I would say that you are looking to smell a nasty jock buttholes, the first place you should look is a locker room….

After college she has an enema movie: I’m working on it!! Gimme a few months!

Why does my peepee stick up: I think you might have a Boner. If you don’t know what that is, ask your mommy.

John Cusack’s girlfriend/John Cusack’s girlfriend 2009/ who dates John Cusack: You found her bitches!!!!

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

As I sit here writing, I am actually extremely close to having a TMI experience. My stomach is churning. I’m not sure if it’s because of the antibiotics I’m currently on, or because of the nearly 2 cups of peanut butter I spread over celery sticks last night in an effort to wain my sweet/carb tooth. Or it could be the gigantic bowl of beans I just ate. It’s most likely a combination of all of the above.

Refraining from eating carbs and drinking wine this week has resulted in my overindulging in protein in a not so healthy way. I’m not sure if this lifestyle is any better.

But that’s not my story. I’m gonna try to keep this short, because I may have an episode of emergencias de frijoles one way or the other in the near future. EEEEEK.

This particular tale occurred once again back in my days o’ college, or back when I was a still drinking. Which if you’re paying attention, was anytime before this Monday.

My friends and I were out in our college town, having our typical college night full of chugging nickle-natties and blasters. (Blaster= Fry St. code for Jager Bomb.)

I started out the night in typical “Hurricane Carissa” fashion- by dinging my best friend LA’s brand new (I mean within the first week brand new) car door against another car. She was a little peeved, but after the first few drinks and a few rants, she let it go.

On this particular night, we (read: I) were particularly boozed up. We made our way around all the bars and shortly before they closed at 2am, we decided it was time to call it a night. LA was playing designated driver for the night, mostly because she wanted a chance to drive us around in her new ride, but also because after the first bar it was apparent that neither I, or our other friend KT would be able to do the job.

Before we had even gotten to the parking lot, I made a loud announcement… “I have to pee.”

KT and I lived only a few blocks away, so they both quickly waved away my announcement and continued towards the parked car. Just as we were arriving at LA’s new car, KT’s ex-boyfriend spotted her in the parking lot. The details are blurry, but I do know that a heated argument started up between my friends and her ex’s group of friends. I stood a little behind the group, trying not to fall over as I looked longingly over my shoulder at the bars across the street, where I knew I could find a toilet street to squat over.

At some point during their argument, a couple of cops approached our group and started asking questions. Knowing I was not in a particularly good state of mind, and also that I didn’t have the best luck with the fuzz, LA sternly told me to go and get in the back seat of the car and to stay put.

“But I really have to go to the bathroom! Can’t I just run into one of the bars real quick,” I slurred. Or something to that effect.

“Absolutely not. Go and get into the car,” LA told me again as she pushed the clicker thing to unlock the door. “And do not get out of the car, no matter what.”

It all seemed a little dramatic, but at that point, I knew that my friend probably had better judgment than I, so I decided to follow her orders.

I got into the back seat of LA’s new car and settled in. I kept myself low in the seat as to not call attention to myself. The last thing I needed was to be interrogated. After about 5 minutes of waiting, I started to get a little restless… and my level of having to pee reallllly started escalating. I remember looking  out the back window and saw that the cops were now making my friends do the standard drunk tests. Walking the line and what not. Or at least that is how I remember it.

I contemplated getting out of the car and running to the nearest bar to relieve myself, but I knew that probably wouldn’t end well, so I ultimately decided to stay put for the time being. At this point I was going between squirming unrelentingly, and literally holding my crotchal area, trying to keep it in.

After about 5 more minutes I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had no choice. It was either pee now, or pee now. There was no longer the option of forever holding my pee.

My options were limited. I couldn’t run for a bar, I would surely be stopped en-route. I couldn’t get out and pop a squat, that would surely end with a public urination ticket, though at this point I hardly cared.

I crawled up into the front seat and started rummaging around.

AHHHH AHHHH AHHHH (heaven sound effect)

There it was, sitting in the cup holder… glowing in the dim light of the parking lot.

A 32oz wide-lip bottle of Lemon-Lime Gatorade.

I could do this.

I carefully unzipped my pants and pulled them off where they settled on the floorboard of LA’s new car. I put both feet up on the back seat, and shuffled then out until I was in frog squat position. I positioned myself so that my face was away from my group of friends, who were still talking to the cops.

And then I positioned the bottle.

Just as I was relaxing into my squat and gearing up to make careful aim, I heard a loud bang from behind me that caused me to lose my footing. Luckily, I hadn’t yet completely relaxed my urinal muscles.

I turned to see a cop shining his light through the window, where only seconds before my bare-behind had been. I quickly pulled my pants back on and hung my head in shame as I opened the back door.

The cop grabbed me by my arm and asked if I had managed to “do anything.” I told him that I hadn’t, and that I still really had to go. I think he must have felt bad for me, because at that point he swiftly drug me over to my friends, looked at LA and said “I’m not even gonna tell you what she almost just did in your car, but yall need to get her to a restroom.”

Everyone was so relieved that they were finally able to leave that no one even mentioned what the cop had said about me. We quickly left, and LA drove us home where I was finally able to pee.

We all lived happily ever after.

Until a few months later when LA was telling the story about the cops in the parking lot to another one of our friends. It was all fun and laughs until she got to the end. She stopped abruptly and looked at me with fire in her eyes.

“What DID you almost do in my brand new car????”

Oopsie. But you know what? It was not as bad as it coulda been.

-John Cusack’s girlfriend.

If you missed my vlog a few weeks ago where a tell a story in which I wasn’t so lucky, check it out here.

______

I posted this yesterday, but not many people responded so I’m posting it again.  I’m stubborn like that!!!

I’ve been thinking a little bit about the future of my blog. I’m  close to 200 posts and will hit my 6 month bloggaversary in a few weeks, and I want to try something a little different. I have often been told that I have a story for pretty much every subject (that’s just my life) so I think in order to get me writing about things other than John Cusack, I would like to ask you to do a little blog assignment.  I give you dear readers, the task of asking me any questions you want to know about little ole me (and I will answer with complete honesty unless you’re a dick) , stories you would like to hear extended versions of (My 100 things post might give you some ideas,) or any other subject matter that you would like to know my opinion on (or a poem about)…. and if I don’t have an opinion on the matter, I’ll get one!!! Just send an email to me at carissajade@gmail.com, tweet me, or pop it off my comments. Thanks and I love you guys!

I also plan on doing a giveaway in the next few weeks, so keep your eyes open. I promise I won’t be giving away one of my decoupage art pieces. Unless you want one I could decoupage something of your request.

** at this point I ended up taking taking a break from the blog, and  have now already watched the hangover, drank two glasses of wine, and taken half an ambien, so bare with me.

I know I have mentioned a few of my recent frustrations as of late with the holidays and a lot of bullshit that is going on in my life, but I have to thank you guys once again  for helping me get through these oh so tough times with your moral support and by bringing the funny for me to read. I have realized in the last few months that my new blog friends have really become people that I have come to lean on and vent to (ohhhh you Tricia are seriously the blogdiggity) (yes I said that again.)

Especially when you sign on to your reader and find out that people like ya back.

Like Monday? I was having the worst day ever. I could barely move, my head was aching, and I really didn’t know if I was going to live to see Tuesday morning. Then I signed on to the old home desk top since I had called in hungover, and found that one of my favorite bloggers ever- Hillbilly Duhn from Hillbilly Duhn’s Times and Tribulations has chosen me as follower of the week. She wrote such a nice post about my blog, and I can’t say enough good things about her… and since the ambien is slowly taking away my thinking skills I’m not even going to try. Just check her out if you haven’t already, follow her, and you wil love her too!

In addition, a while back Lee from Headaches, Hotflashes and Hormones gave me the over the top Blogger Award. She literally has one of the funniest blogs on the internets, and has recently been experimenting with Vlogging, which I just think is as badass as spicy hot cheeto fries. Mannnn those things are good, but if you eat an entire bag, be prepared to sit on a iced washrag for a few hours.

On top of all this awesomeness, last week Ryan from 365 Days of People gave a shout out to me the other day. If you don’t read the awesomeness that is his blog, you probably don’t realize what an honor this is. He basically picks a group of people to hate on every day for a year, and when he hates, I mean that in the best way possible. I nearly almost ALWAYS find myself agreeing as well as laughing my ass off.   One day last week- out of the non-hating part of his heart- he decided to pick eleven blogs that he doesn’t hate, and one of them was your truly’s. If that just didn’t make my heart sing, I dunno what would.

So for Ryan and all the others out there who are fond of drinking the haterade, I’ve decided to post today about certain groups of people, and persons themselves who drive me off the wall, completely nut-sack batty.

*I ended up falling asleep on my desk last night (thank you ambien) and am now writing this from the confines of my cubicle.

The ladies in my building: I’ve said it before to a greater extent, but for goodness sakes, learn some freaking manners. I understand that you sometimes don’t get to choose when you have to “go,” but you could at least learn some manners.

Andy Williams: I have no idea how I had gone 27 years without knowing who this man was, but I wish on all the Christmas cookies at my grandmother’s house that I could go back to that ignoranto-blissfull state. I’m sure the guy is nice, and I have nothing against him personally, but ever since one of my co-workers decided we would listen to nothing but holiday music (back in November) “The  Holiday Season” has been eating away at my brain cells. I’m afraid that the next time I hear it I am liable to spontaneously combust. The song literally makes my blood boil, and unfortunately Andy Williams is getting the hate by default. Just talking about it is making my blood boil. Ok I’m done.

****deeeeeep breath

People who try to talk to me in places where I don’t feel like talking: Specifically when I’m at the movie by myself or at the gym. I’m the type of person that can talk for hours with just about anyone, but there are just some places where talking to strangers is just unacceptable. If I’ve got earphones on or am firmly planted in a chair watching a movie (or even just the previews) Leave me alone!

*My roommate also wanted me to add that you should never, ever, talk to strangers in a porn store.

Exception: you can talk to me anytime if you are a funny boy  with shaggy hair and dark rimmed glasses… Just sayin.

My roommate Jake: I told him he was going on this list and I actually think it makes him happy since he has made it his goal in life to drive me nutso.  He really is one of my bestest friends, and I don’t know what I’m going to do when I move out and I don’t have him walking behind me and cleaning up pieces of my life and making sure I don’t blow up the house… Regardless, he has figured out how to get to me in the worst way. Like when I’m at my computer in full concentration mode and he comes up behind me and pokes my back… or when he uses that high pitched voice and says “don’t you love it when I’m talking like this”… or like when I’m sitting there watching tv and all of a sudden his bare ass is in my face.

Workers at toll booths: Why must you be so grumpy as you take my dollar twenty-five every day? I smile at everyone of these people, and I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a nice word back. Yes I understand that it is frustrating to have to wait for me gather up nickles, but that’s just the way it is. Maybe those thirty seconds would go by a little more quickly if they would lighten up a bit. It’s not like I like holding up the line. BLEEERRRG.

People who soft touch for no reason: I’m all about cuddling and squeeze hugs, but ohhhhh I cannot explain what “soft touching” does to me… but it’s not good. If you are unaware, an example of a  “soft touch” is when someone gently rests their hand upon your leg or shoulder. Or when they let their knees rest against yours in the back seat. When this happens, I can’t think about anything else, it consumes me.

MMMMMMM He's mine.

Tea Leoni: I feel kind of bad for putting this one on the list, as she hasn’t done anything to me personally, I like most of her movies, and I feel kinda bad for the whole world knowing that her hubby is a sex addict, but I can’t help how I feel. Maybe part of my annoyance for her comes from the fact that she gets to be with David Duchovny, as he is one of the most gorgeous people on earth… but I am more apt to think my annoyance for her stems from the fact that my intuition tells me that she is a raging bitch. But that’s probably just because she played one in Spanglish.

People who run kiosks in the mall: Now these people are just tricky bastards. You’re walking by, quickly trying to get your shopping done without too many distractions, and you accidentally catch eyes with one of those attractive men. They smile, and you smile back. They compliment you on your smile. You blush. As they lean in for a closer look at your necklace, you let them because, after all they are attractive. Then they feign a look of surprise as your hand catches their eye. “Can I see your hand for just a second?”

Fuuuuddggggge.

You’ve been tricked once again by a lotion or nail kit salesmen. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen for it and I’m putting my foot down. Also watch out for people selling flat irons. I once almost paid $150 for one that wasn’t even a Chi. But at least I got someone to play with my hair for a good hour.

Children at restaurants and grocery stores: (Not yours) But seriously. Not everyone thinks it’s cute when a kid goes up to a complete stranger and slaps them. Or pokes them when they are trying to eat sushi and visit with their friends. Or put their grimy hands all over their leg when they are waiting in line. I’m sure this makes me sound completely insensitive, and I usually love children- but not when they are being ignored and let to run free.

People who can eat anything: I’m not only talking about the type of people who never work out and can eat anything without gaining a pound, (though I’ve always heard it would eventually catch up with you and apparently that was just a lie) but I’m also talking about those who can put anything in their body without ill effect. I have a very sensitive stomach and I’m constantly having to try to forsee what each meal will do to me, where I will be when it happens, and if it is worth it. It never is.

*** I’m not even proofing this before I post, I apologize for its complete unreadability (I am pretty sure that’s not even a word.)

If you’re interested, feel free to check them out- Here, and here… but be warned… in my younger years I was pretty much a really cool kid big huge nerd with a lot of angst. I guess you could say some things never change.

This last weekend I came across a notebook that a few friends and I had used to write notes back and forth to each other back in the early years of  high school.  Reading notes that I wrote in the ninth grade was definitely not the high point in my weekend, but I figure that I have already shared some pretty embarrassing shiz with you guys so what the heck!? It’s actually quite interesting, looking back at that time in my life. I remember simultaneously feeling care-free and yet urgent to fit in and be liked. I wish I could say that I never feel that way now. I wonder if I’ll ever be completely secure…

I have not done any editing to the content, except for names.  Enjoy, but keep in mind that I was in 9th grade at the time, extremely boy crazy, and  thought I was a lot cooler than I actually was.

SOMETIME IN THE 9TH GRADE_____________

Hey friends!!

I thought we could use this notebook so we can keep all our notes together. This is my first note of the semester!

NEways.

Scott Wolf looked soooooooooo fine last night on Party of Five! His dark hair, blue mesmerizing eyes, and Dimples!!! I LOVE HIM!!!

-CJ

_________________________

Ummm… I’m happy for you, but I just don’t agree. However Ken is in real life and is fine. So is Jimmy. But Chris is finer. So is Brett. I wish he live in Waco or at least Texas. I wish Chris didn’t have a boyfriends. I wish he was younger. I wish Jimmy would realize I exsist. I wish Ken wasn’t so horny. Guys suck!

-G

__________________________

Nope! Scott Wolf beats em’ all!

I’m having a crappy day.

-CJ

__________________________

Ken is fine. Go to hell. Scott Wolf is too preppy all American cute boy. He’s too good looking and perfect and I don’t find that attractive. Now that one guy I saw this morning with the gorgeous eyes and goatee I saw this morning is FINE!

-G

____________________

Hakuna Matatatatatatatatatatatata!

This morning Juan came up to talk to me That is the first time he REALLY said anything to me except for stupid things in Spanish class.

Scott Wolf isn’t that fine. I mean in a way, but I really like  Gavin Rosdale so much more.

S’s ideal guy: Curly long hair almost to their shoulders, gorgeous blue eyes, $rich$, muscular but not too mach, plays guitar, can sing like Gavin, sexy voice that could give me an orgasm hahaha ,tall, not too tan, British or Australian accent.

S.

_______________________

How do you think you did on the test? I missed totalitarian I think. Oh well. I can’t believe u didn’t watch Party of 5. it was great!

What about Chris? and who does A. like? I promise I won’t tell anyone!

-CJ

______________________

Man, Gavin is making me so horny right now. haha jk. but he is FINE! I can’t believe you didn’t watch him last night on tv. Also I still don’t care about Scott Wolf. I think I made a 100 on the test, but not sure. I’m reading Gavin’s lyrics right now. This weekend I’m going to play the beginning of Machine Head on my friend’s electric guitar. hahaha

I also still kinda like Chris even though you think he smells. I don’t LIKE the smell of him, but I usually don’t notice… I don’t think he smells today, does he? U tell me because you sit by him. I sent you an email about Chris but I thought you read it. I’ll tell you who she likes but only between you and me.

Also I like that guy’s hair diagonal from you.

-S

_______________________

S,

I like his hair but besides that he is an ugly butt.

G,

Oh gads, 40 minutes til I see him! My Lord! How can I wait that long? HEEELLLLLPPP Meeeeee! Should I just go up to him and say “hey Bobby! You have such a nice ass, body , face and personality. You look especially nice today.”  Hahaha To hell with that. But really, it’s all true! REMEMBER TO TALK TO HIM TODAY. But I know know… what are you gonna say?

WB now!

CJ

______________________

I’m gonna say what I told you I’d say the other day… “Did you call CJ last nite? What do you think of her? So you like her? U gonna ask her out? When?”

And also why are you wearing black sox wih white shoes? Just wondering.

-G.

______________________

Shut up about my black sox! Its a little fashion no-no but I don’t give a damn bc I feel good today, I could fly!! hahaha You are so much taller than Joey! Oh and make sure he knows I’m totally sprung on him and everything. Even if you get a negative response from him like “No I don’t like her and I will never ask her out she is a fat and ugly bitch” Then you still have to tell me…Don’t FORGET OK done talking about him!! I promise!!

-CJ

_____________________

Bitch! shut up hoe, I am not taller we are the same height! I won’t forget! Chill Girfriend. Think 2 yourself, “I am such a pretty, sexy, nice, girl, how could he resist the irresistible?” hahaha Don’t worry he’ll be in love with you no matter what.

-G

_____________________

G WANTS TO SUCK ON JOEYS’S PENIS AND THINKS IT IS SALTY!!!

-CJ

__________________

CJ WANTS TO LICK BOBBY’S NIPPLES!!!

-G

_________________

In case you weren’t entirely sure that I was a complete loser made of awesome, I’ll give you a visual. Looking at it, I would have no idea what kind of image I was attempting to portray, but luckily on the back of the photograph I wrote “slutty pic.”

So glad to clear that up.

As I typed this out, it became more and more apparent that I  am was  extremely obnoxious and lucky that I have had any friends at all. I think I owe everyone I know in real life a huge hug.

Lilu is out of town for a while, but she has provided us with a series of very special TMI Thursday post secret posts. Make sure to check them out…. And for more TMI than you could ever imagine, check out her TMI archives!

I’m doing TMI a little different this week. I have a friend “Moops” who has asked several times for me to talk about him on my blog.

Well sir, I’ll do better than that. You have officially been email roasted. TMI Thursday style.

The following are emails that I copied straight from an email  conversation that happened yesterday afternoon.

I wrote the first email to a group of my friends when I realized I was having a difficult time coming up with a post for today. Moops spent the better part of the afternoon traveling all over the country for work, so didn’t get to check his email until the damage had been done.

Luckily, he’s a good sport. (I hope.)

Hey friends,

Moops has been wanting me to talk about him in my blog for a while… As I am completely brain dead today,I was thinking that you guys could help me out with thinking of a good story.

I know there must be many stories out there that I could tell that would be considered TMI about our friend in question.

The first one that first comes to mind…

Remember when we were calmly talking in the living room, and out of nowhere Moops reached down his pants, into his butt hole and then proceeded to stick his fingers in my mouth???! Just because ” he had an urge!!!”

I almost had to kill myself by ingesting bleach.

I got him back on the river trip though. heeeheehehee

You got anything better?

____________________________________________________________

RE: TMI

FROM: SCUBA

This happened,

Outside the Coventry Apts. Justin met our across the hall neighbors in his tighty whitees.  He then helped the girl carry groceries from her car up flight of stairs in his undees.  He then slipped on the very top concrete stair and all of the groceries went flying out of the sack.  He was bleeding and scrounging for groceries in front of our new girl neighbor in his undees.  Her boyfriend then shows up as this is going on.

________________________________________________________________________

RE:TMI

FROM: CARISSA JADE

Orrrr……….Maybe I should switch gears and tell about the time Scuba pooed his pants. I was such a nice friend and told him I would do his laundry for him. I almost died when I saw the skid lake underwear in the laundry basket.

_______________________________________________________________________

RE: TMI

FROM: LA

How about the time Moops puked on my couch then had to be taken to bed? Fast forward three hours and he comes storming down the stairs yelling at me me. Upon his return back up the stairs he proceeds to trip and stumble back down to the bottom. To top it off, he jumps up, glares and points his finger at me and says, “Yoooooooouuuuuuu”!

_______________________________________________________________________

RE: TMI

FROM: KT

I have a quick couple…

How about the time Moops decided to tell us about his love for couches. He loves them so much that he use to have sex with them, sad but true. Moops use to masturbate by inserting his junk between couch cushions and go to town!

Or how bout the time we went to we walked into an apt. party of people we didn’t even know and Moops drank too much and as usual stripped down to his tightee whitees and the people were so put off they asked us to leave. We do and Moops begins to laugh. Of course we ask “what are you laughing at?” He then pulls out the tube of toothpaste he was so proud to have stolen. His grand revenge for getting kicked out was stealing toothpaste…

Then there is the time that Moops really impressed me. I had just moved in below him and had spoken with him a few times. My roommates were out so I went to go say hi. Moops opens the door and is unquestionably shit faced. We are watching T.V. and I’m telling him a story when he stops me and says “hold on.” He then leans over and pukes the smelliest blach puke onto his carpet, nearly getting it on his boy dog “Jager.” When done he looks at me and says “ok, go on.” Without blinking an eye! Bless his heart!

And then of course there is the time that he asked my somewhat crazy ex-bff to trim his pubes. She then convinces him that he should be blind folded for the event. She did this so pictures could be taken without him knowing. Blindfolded, naked, and holding a beer, Moops let this crazy woman near his manhood with a pair of scissors in her hand! Don’t worry she didn’t hurt him, she just trimmed, but it did make for interesting pics….

__________________________________________________________________________

RE:TMI

FROM: CARISSA JADE

HAHAHA I forgot about some of these! Speaking of the puking (not that there aren’t already enough puking stories) I just remembered about the time that I woke up to find a pile of puke at the foot of my bed. That fool woke up in the middle of the night, stuck his head over the foot of the bed, and then straight up went back to sleep.

The funny thing about that night that he stole the toothpaste, is that I’m pretty sure that was the same night we may or may not have dipped someone’s toothbrush and razors into the toilet. Oops.

Oh. And my favorite… (which really needs it’s own post) The night he peed my bed, thank goodness I was on the futon that night (poor shae) That wasn’t really even the bad part. He took the down comforter home and promised to wash it. Three weeks later I go to his loft and that thing was was in his closet with all the other “clean” blankets… and sure nufff …it had never been washed.

And KT. When you get a chance, you must send me those pube cutting pics. I have no idea what happened to my copy. I know it was in my glove compartment for a while- though I have absolutely no idea as to why…

______________________________________________________________________

RE:TMI

FROM: MOOPS

Wow, all of this makes me sound like a really great guy!  I’ll get abnoxiously drunk, puke, piss your bed, might fuck your couch and I might ask you to get some of those hard to reach pubes.  I want to hang out with me!!

Scuba,  speaking of fucking things this one is for you…

I believe this story epitomizes TMI.  This came out of one of those story telling sessions where everyone was boozed up enough to share stories from their sexual past, the story didn’t necessarily have to involve another person, solo acts were admissible.  I’m on a plane and I don’t want the guy next to me to see what I’m writing so I have to make it quick.

So it begins, Scuba, the horny young thing that he was went about the house looking for objects he could have intercourse with, nothing too disturbing or out of the ordinary yet, right?  On his quest for pleasure a furry young thing catches his eye, why of course, what better sexual companion than your favorite over stuffed teddy bear (it might have been a panda).  But hmmm, how to make this lustful encounter logistically possible?  Cut a hole in it!  With near surgical precision (I’m sure) Scuba proceeds to cut a hole ample enough to receive his penis.  Then,  he fucked the teddy bear.

The funniest part is that his mom found the stuffing from the procedure; he told her that a kid down the street went into a rage and stabbed his bear.  So to this day if that neighbor kid is ever mentioned his mom says something to the effect of “ oh that so and so , he’s the one who stabbed your poor teddy.”

_______________________________________________________________________

RE: TMI

FROM: KT

It was a cow and he shared that story the same night you shared you love for couch cushions

_____________________________________________________________

RE: TMI

FROM: CARISSA JADE

hahaha ok, thanks guys. I’m gonna have to use all of this…

______________________________________________________________________________

Oh yes, in case you were wondering… my friends definitely put the ass in class. Have a wonderful day!

Image via Wikipedia

At the very least, I would like for the entire world to realize that Nickelback sucks hairy balls!

You know what? That’s not even fair. I am not even going to pretend that I know enough about music to say that they are musically shitty, because I’m sure they have at least a little talent or they wouldn’t be winning Grammys and what not. I do know enough about hearing things to know that listening to Chad Kroeger sing is only about 3 steps away from being literally raped in the ear.

Which is precisely what has been happening to me all week.

I get it Jack FM. You play what YOU want. And that is the exact opposite of what I want about 17 times every day.

Every time I hear those first few chords and his whiny groan of a voice chime out with-”How the hell we end up like this?” a little part of me dies.

And yes, I realize that that this may seem a little hypocritical considering that am writing this a day after posting how horrible of a singer I am myself. But you know what? I don’t get paid millions and millions of dollars to entertain people with my voice. (Though I bet I COULD  get paid tens of dollars NOT to entertain my five co-workers in my office.)

It does please me to see that there really is a lot of Nickelback hate out there. I’ve probably  heard more people say that they hate Nickelback than I’ve hear people say they hate Kanye West. If all the hate, then why are they still all over the radio? I’m starting to be convinced that half the people who say they “hate” this band are just doing it to get on the hateorade bandwagon. Maybe it’s just become trendy to shout out your angst at a band whom you haven’t really even formed a proper opinion about and then go home and buy forty dollars worth of their music on itunes to see what the hate is all about, therefore leading the radio people to believe that people want to hear this Godforsaken music and cause them to play it all freaking day. (I only know this happens because I have fallen for it myself. Thank you Miley Cyrus.)

I’ll be honest. Maybe I haven’t given them a proper chance. It’s not like I’ve heard any of there songs besides the five that are played 13 trazillion times on the radio every day. Nor do I want to.

My hate comes from a very personal experience, one  not even related to their music, (though I still think their music sucks) one that Ive spoken of briefly before.

Back when I was in college, our football team made it to the playoffs  resulting in a bowl game in New Orleans. I was involved in  a drinking spirit organization that went to all the football games and drank cheered from the stands. During After the football game, I went down to Bourbon street to meet up with a friend who had moved away a few years before, and had also come in town for the bowl game.

We met at one of those little stands where they sell the big Hurricane drinks (you know those tall red drinks you can buy on the side of the street with an umbrella stuck in it??) We had  just retrieved our drinks (though I was probably already quite a few deep) when we decided we should take pictures to celebrate our reunion and to show off our Hurricanes.

There were three of us gathered and we all wanted to be in the picture, so I looked around to see if there was anyone around who I could trust to take it.

I approached a group of people nearby who were dressed anywhere from “homeless” to “douche-bag,” but seeing as there was no one else around, I decided to ask them anyway.

CJ: Would one of  you mind taking a picture of us? My friends and I all want to be in it?”

I spoke openly to the group. As I did, the group all shifted their attention to the homeless looking greasy man in the center, who was obviously their leader.

Homeless looking greasy man: “Well sure ladies, I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”

He left his spot in the group and walked past the camera that I held out for him.

CJ: Umm… Nervous laughter.…

Homeless looking greasy man: Where would you like me to stand? As he is already edging himself between my friends and I, putting his arms around our shoulders.

CJ: Tehhehee… actually, we were just gonna see if you could take a picture of us! We haven’t seen each other in a while and don’t really want a stranger in our picture.

The homeless looking greasy man was taken aback. He clearly thought we were joking until we had reposed without him and I was once again trying to hand him my camera.

Homeless looking greasy man’s group finally took notice of what was going on, and all at once started talking.

“Do you know what you’re doing?? one of them said. “That’s fucking Chad Kroeger!!!”

CJ: Okkkkkkk? (and why do I care?)

“The lead fucking singer for Nickelback you bitch.”

CJ: Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhh. (shit!… But still,  who cares? No reason to act like an asshole.)

Homeless looking Greasy man AKA Chad Kroeger: Fuck you, Fuck you bitches.

Then we laughed and ran away as fast as we could.

Looking back, I can understand that he may have been embarrassed to assume that we wanted a picture with him.

Regardless, to tell someone “Fuck you” for not recognizing you? Add in the ability to kill small children with the sound of your voice?

Suck it, Chad Kroeger. I’ll never forgive you.

Keeping the FML Friday theme, I’ll share some of the things that I totally suck at doing (and should be really awesome at by now.) Feel free to add your own and make me feel a little bit better about my life…

*Lighting a match- Why in God’s name is striking a stick against, what is essentially a piece of cardboard , so difficult? I usually go through at least a row of matches before I get one lit, and another row before I get one to stay lit long enough to light whatever it is that I’m trying to light.  Throw in the acrylic- nail -catching -on- fire- factor- and I’m in for what could potentially be a humongo disaster.

*Spelling common words such as Piece, Wednesday,Calendar, and License… etc.- Without spell check, the previous statement would have undoubtedly read: Spelling common words such as Peice, Wendesday, Calender, and liscense…ect. And yes, I did get my degree in English.

*Braiding  my hair without having to start over 3 times- Yeah yeah yeah. Even my hair dresser told me never to wear my hair in braids again because it makes me look 12. I don’t give 2 flying pieces of poop. I’m lazy, and sometimes I like to look like a Native American. I suppose it’s in my blood somewhere.

*Pulling the right string on the overhead light- Every morning it is the same routine. I wake up, stumble out of bed to turn on the light. I pull the string. The fan switches to full speed, but the light stays off.  I go over to the wall and flip the switch. The fan slows down but the light stays off. I go over and pull the other string. The light turns on but the fan also starts up again and I’m freezing. These things seriously need to come with directions. I have a very similar experience with the two strings on the window blinds.

*Typing the right nonsensical word in those fucking Captcha things- I’m not claiming to be the brightest bulb of the bunch, but I know should be able to conquer a captcha. I can see alright. I’m a functional enough typist. I’ve done exceptional on typing tests, so I know that I have the ability to look at words and then type the same exact words on my keyboard. What makes me even more mad, is when it says something snarky like “Are You Human?” above it. That’s like saying “Oh no fair!! This one is SOOO easy!!!! Seriously,  you’re an idiot if you don’t get this right” right before you ask someone a trivia question. I’m apparently an idiot human.

*Opening the right drawer for eating utensils and cups- I have lived in this house for seven months now. It’s not that I don’t know where they are. I guess when I’m looking for a cup I just automatically start opening up random cabinets. I inevitably open the wrong one first. I have know idea why. It’s like my brain just wants to fuck with me and make me think I’m going crazy. Or maybe I just am.

*Making a turn at the first long break in traffic- I have my blinker on, and I need to turn into a parking lot across the way. I’ve already been sitting there for five minutes, just waiting for a break in traffic. I’m concentrating as hard as I’ve ever concentrated on anything in my life, gauging the speed and the distance between the cars in the opposite lane. I calculate how quickly I will be able to accelerate. I think  “Oh that’s a cute little hybrid… I wonder if my credit is good enough to buy a new car…. Har har har that guy is picking his nose….”

There was a break… but I missed it.

*Getting the straw in my mouth without the use hands in the midst of a deep conversation- Please note that I am specifying that I cannot complete this simple action during deep conversation. I can usually do it just fine when I’m looking at the straw. But without that pertinent eye contact with the straw? Forget about it!! You would think the odds would allow me to get the straw in my mouth at least one out of every ten times, but it never seems to happen. I either end up doing that ever so attractive lip/tongue search for the straw thing, or the straw ends up poking me in the chin, cheek, or worst of all- up my nose (I have literally gotten a bloody nose twice from attempting this maneuver.) The thing that makes me the most frustrated about this particular act, is that girls in the movies sipping coke floats, sick people in hospitals,  and old people in nursing homes successfully put the straw in their mouth without losing an eye, ALL THE TIME!!

*Cooking popcorn in the microwave- I’ve tried punching in the time that the bag tells me to. I’ve tried pushing the button on the microwave that says “POPCORN.” It doesn’t matter. Every first attempt I make at popping popcorn in the microwave either ends up being too full of uncooked kernels, or ends up a big smelly lump of coal like substance.

*Playing a DVD in my DVD player- This used to be a task I could handle, but that was before every TV in my house needed 4 remote controls just to work. It’s never just as simple as putting the DVD in and pushing a button. Now, just to watch a movie, I have to figure out which button turns the TV on; what channel or setting the TV needs to be on to play a DVD; how to make the DVD play; and then wait… there’s still no fricking sound!!

So basically, I just suck at life…

But that’s ok because it’s Friday!

Happy weekend  everyone!

Make sure you check back to Lilu’s Archives… they are the best things you’ll read all week!

I’m not usually the type of girl who likes to kiss and tell. O.K., that’s a lie. But I’m not the type of girl who likes to talk about sexual experiences all over internets, especially on a site that my parents frequent. So today I’m going to tell you a story that happened to a, ahem, friend of mine.

Once upon a time there was a girl named… lets call her “Cari.”

She was young and naive and only a Sophomore in college.  Although she was not quite twenty-one, Cari had just began to get the full extent of how crazy night life in college could really be.

One night, Cari went to a bar with some friends. She had been kind of talking to a guy (lets call him Dave) who worked at a local bar, which was kind of awesome because he could sneak her drinks. By kind of talking, I mean that they had made out once or twice, but had yet to take it beyond first base.

At the time, Cari was still pretty naive when it came to sexual experiences. She had kissed her share of boys, but was not the kind of girl to go home with almost strangers.

This night, because of the ridiculous amount of drinks that she sneakily inhaled, she decided to make an exception.

Dave was quite a bit older and willing to take the drunken Cari back to his house to take care of her. He was quite the gentleman and even stopped to get Cari lemon lime Gatorade on the way to his house.

Once they got there, things got a little hot and heavy. Not to the point of actual intercourse, but to the point where clothes were taken off.

It was around this point that Cari passed out into a dark and dreamless sleep.

She woke up very early in the morning with a horrible cramp in her stomach. It was not the type of cramp that could be mistaken. She really had to take a shit.

At this point, Cari was still laying on her side under the covers. She wanted to try to sneak out of bed and into the bathroom so that Dave wouldn’t wake up to the sound of her using the restroom. She could feel his presence right behind her, and hear the sounds of his heavy snoring behind her head. She shifted to try to move without disturbing the hairy man next to her.

As she did, she noticed something very strange.

“What in the hell is that!?” she thought as she started to panic. It seemed to Cari, that there was something lightly resting upon her butt cheek.

“Nononononononono! This cannot be happening!” Cari thought as she tried to figure out a game plan.

You see, the pain in Cari’s stomach was so intense, that she had come to the conclusion that she must have laid a turd in this strange harry man’s bed. What else would be resting gently against her butt cheek?

She thought maybe she should just run out of the door, hitchhike back to her apartment, then convince her parents to let her transfer schools.

Tears came to poor Cari’s eyes as she realized that she had really done it. Her life was over. She was about to leave all of her new friends, and all because she decided to get drunk and poop in a well known bartender’s bed.

“There has to be another way,” Cari thought…. “AHA! Maybe I can just scoop it up and throw it in the trash without him noticing!”

Cari knew that this would be very difficult. From what she could tell, it was still in it’s solid form. She had been very careful not to lean back and damage it in anyway.

She finally gathered up the courage to very carefully reach behind her back and scoop it up.

Very slowly and carefully, Cari scooted her hand underneath the poop, hoping with all of her heart that she would not leave any remains  behind.

It was in that moment that Cari made the best discovery of her life.

What she held in her hand was not in fact a turd… it was in fact, just Dave’s penis.

Cari quickly woke Dave up and made him drive her home, where she was able to use the restroom in the privacy of her own bathroom.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The end.