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!

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

So yeah, I’ll complain after all.

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

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

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

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

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

Luckily it didn't do much damage...

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

My first car was an 89 Cutlass Supreme Oldsmobile.

Oh wait. I take that back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yesterday was my mommy’s birthday.

I won’t tell you how old she is, but since she has recently taken an interest in my blog, I have decided to dedicate a post to the awesomeness that is my mother. I mean she did create me, right? At the very least we can halfway blame that on her.

But really. I think I can honestly say that I can owe a lot of who I am (the better parts) to my dear mom.

When I was young, my mom didn’t work full-time until I was started high school, which was precisely the year that she started teaching again… at my high school. It could have been really bad if my mom wasn’t the cool person that she is. At first, when I thought all of her students hated her (and consequently hated me for being related) it was her idea that I use that as my “in.” So I did.

When the other kids would say things to me like, “yo, your mom’s a bitch, yo.” I started replying back with “Yo, I know… that bitch is crazy. But she wears big tall jockey underwear just so you know.” And they seemed to like it when I dissed her so they started liking me a bit more. My mom didn’t even mind. It didn’t hurt that I once had to be escorted by a security guard into her classroom.

To make a long story short, I had this biology teacher who was very mean. She also smelled of phemaldehyde, which made me want to vomit daily. I finally got the bright idea to put Bath and Body Works lotion on my hands so that I could put my hands over my face when she walked by so that I would smell Plumeria rather than dead rabbit. When the other students saw what I was doing, they all wanted to get in on my genius idea. Pretty soon, I looked around the classroom and every single person was covering their face with their hands which made me crack up uncontrollably. My teacher asked what I was laughing at, and I obviously couldn’t tell her, so I told her  ”it has nothing to do with you.”

For some reason this pissed her off, and she said to me “march yourself out into the hallway,” which is exactly what I did. I marched. Like a soldier… or a Rockette. My biology teacher REALLY didn’t like that so she had a security guard (my school was ghetto) escort me to my mom’s classroom, which was still  in session. Her students were very happy to see that I was in trouble, just like they usually were, and automatically thought I was a bit cooler.

In addition, I got to use her classroom as a locker and I stole all her caramel apple suckers and passed them out to her students when she wasn’t looking.

But I digress. Making me cool in high school is only one of the reasons I love my mom. And on a side note, these days, I don’t know any students who don’t love my mother. I’ve met many over the years, and they all have nothing but good things to say about her.

My mom, my sis and I: circa 1987

Here are just a few of my favorite memories:

* She took me to the zoo literally, every week. She let me get popcorn and peanuts and let me feed the animals even though the signs clearly read “Do Not Feed The Animals.” Even better, she encouraged me to tap on cages of the snakes and reptiles. She knew just how to make the papa rattle snake hiss. Last week when we went to the zoo for mother’s day, she proved to me that she STILL had what it takes to stir the rattlesnake into a tizzy. And she swears it was the same angry snake that we used to nag so many years ago.

* My mom never let me go without. Even though I know we couldn’t afford it, she always made sure that I had something cute to wear to all the important events. She also knew how to pick out the best earrings. I had a huge collection of earrings that included big coke bottle tops, sharks eating people, and huge eyeballs. Even later in life, she always encouraged me to dress how I wanted, even if it wasn’t in style at the time. She took me to vintage stores and instilled in me a love for retro clothing. When I was in Junior high, she even made me homemade bell bottoms with an old tye-dyed shirt.

*She taught me how to wrap houses. For those of you unfamiliar, wrapping is what some of you may have called “toilet papering” a house. She would drive my friends and I around to all the popular boy’s houses, and wait patiently until we were chased away with a water hose. Then, when we got home, she would wait with us in the bushes until they came over to retaliate.

*She gave me my intense love for music. I remember so many days when we would drive to school or swimming lessons with a cassette tape blaring The Beatles, Van Morrison, The Cowsills or Mr Big. She may now be a little embarrassed when I sing loudly in department stores, but she really shouldn’t be, for she is the one who taught me to sing loud and be merry. And I do, everyday.

*She instilled in me a love for all things scary, especially zombies. Some people may look down on the fact that she introduced me to scary movies at such a young age, but I wouldn’t have it any different. Some of my favorite nights in my life were the nights that we would spend cuddled up in her bed watching zombie movies. I remember many nights that my dad would put me to bed, and she wouldn’t even get mad when I snuck back up to play “Zombies ate My Neighbors” with her until late in the night.

Really, this barely puts a dent in all that she has done for me.

More than anything, my mom has taught me that it’s ok to be different. She taught me to laugh, and to embrace the quirky. She gave me a love for reading and dancing and always supported me through all of my endeavors. She has always had faith in me and has shown me a love that only a mother can do. She always believed in me and taught me to believe in myself, even when others didn’t. And she continues to teach me to be a better person every day of my life.

Mom, if you’re reading this- I forgive  you for all mornings when you woke me up blaring the Star Trek theme song. I forgive you for giving me a fear of boogers (threatening me with them when I acted up in the car) and for my fear of sharks (reading me shark attack stories on the way to the beach).

I know we’ve had some tough times, but in the long run, none of that will matter. What I will always remember is how you have always been there for me. You have always been a person I strive to be, and I look up for you for all that you have done with your life and for how many people you have touched. You are honestly the best mom and friend a gal could have. I love you so much and I hope that you have a wonderful birthday!

I love you!

Carissa

And as a bonus, I don’t think I mentioned how talented my mom is at making videos. You can check out some of her videos on her youtube channel, but I also want to share a video she made (we both filmed) when we went to the zoo on Mother’s day.

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Have a great weekend!!!!

Wowsa. When did life get so cray cray? Ohhh it seems about 2 months ago, and it just keeps getting faster and harder to keep up with.

This wekeend was one of my BFF’s graduation from GRAD SCHOOL! Yes, I have some smart mofo’s in my life. I was really bummed that I didn’t make it to meet up with a bunch of local bloggers, but when it was all said and done I just booked too much for one day. Plus after grad-party numero dos, it would have been detrimental to put me out on the streets, or even around people who don’t know me and love me unconditionally.

And luckily my friends love me lots. Although I’m pretty sure LA didn’t want to be my friend for about 5 minutes when I told a group of strangers about how she once performed an enema on me. We heard later that it started a very in debth conversation between a group of girls, and I’m always glad to be a conversation starter (or ender) so I don’t feel so bad. Plus I always let LA tell lots of stories at my expense, so all was equal in the world. Or something like that.

So we spent the majority of the weekend in Denton, and it’s always a blast to go back. Plus, (even though I missed the busting of it) she had a pinata with mini-tequilas and shot glasses in it. Have you ever heard of such a thing?! Have you ever heard of a more genius idea??? After the party we made our rounds to all the local bars, and I have to tell you, I did something that I feel very, very, VERY embarrassed about. Which, I can’t believe that after telling strangers about my enema that I had the ability to be embarrassed by anything.

The first person that I saw, and recognized when I walked in was one of my favorite movie bloggers. No big deal, right? No. I made a very big deal about it. I pretty much cornered him and oogled him and I probably would have told him my ten top favorite movies if he would have let me. But alas, I think he was very scared, and rightly so. At some point after I proclaimed my fandom, I took a nap in the car, and somehow woke up alive in the morning, although I am still missing a bit of my dignity, about 200 dollars, and about half of the items in my purse.

Speaking of graduations, my little sister  is graduating from college next weekend. I can’t believe it. My little sister is all growed up and she is so smart and I’m so proud I want to squeeze her until it hurts. Not only is she graduating, but she is getting a DOUBLE MAJOR in BIOLOGY AND PSYCHOLOGY! Seriously!? Even in my smartest days when I used to take adderol I couldn’t even get through a biology class, much less a whole bunch of them. Although I have to say that her love for bugs has really rubbed off on me.

 A couple of years ago my sister and I went on a bug collecting expedition which was one of my favorite times ever. We spent the day at my farm collecting all sorts of weird bugs and soaked them in alcohol and put them up on a styrophome board with pins. It sounds all sorts of nerdy but it was actually really cool, until I woke up in the middle of the night to see that this gigantic huge moth that was supposed to be dead was flapping it wings like a madman with a needle through it’s heart. I screamed bloody murder and spent the next week feeling sure that I had caused  some sort of mothman prophecy and that I was going going to go crazy and start drawing weird pictures and then, you know, die.

Oh I got way off topic there… Back to my sister. She definitely got the smarts out of the family, and she is making all of the men in the family proud by following their lead and getting her degree in something science related.

Did I ever tell you I come from a long line of scientists?

My grandad is a chemist and is one of the guys credited for inventing kiss-proof lip stick, and that is just one of the reasons why he is amazing.

Then you have my dad, the geologist. Besides giving him a free pass to wear tye-died t-shirts and cut-offs to any public event, it also means that I had the most awesome rock collection of any girl on the block. Also? I had really good stuff to sell. Other kids on the block were selling lemonade and homemade brownies from cardboard tables on street corners, but I walked around the neighborhood with a radio flyer full of hand painted rocks, and actually made about 4 bucks total in three years.

I’ve been thinking of taking it up again to make some supplental income.

The only downfall to the fact that I was brought up as a rock-lover is that now I have to lick them all the time. I know it sounds weird, but it’s something I have to try really hard to resist.  I think it’s because my dad used to quiz me on my rock collection, and the easiest one to guess Halite because it tasted like salt. Now I have the urge to see what other rocks taste like, and mostly so far they just taste like dirt. But one day when I find some rock that tastes like ketchup or cheese cake that no one has ever thought to taste, and I’l be famous and all of you will also want to taste my rock.  

This weekend also made me recall my college graduation, which was what I set out to blog about but seeing as how I have already novelled this post,I think I’ll save that for another time… So stay tuned!

Also congrats to my friend Julie for grad-yee-ating last week. You make me proud!

Oh and.. I still love John Cusack. ( I’m losing steam on the google searches so I thought I’d throw that in there)

So I was sitting here earlier and thinking about about things, and how about 6-8 years ago I had a truly epic day on the anniversary of tomorrow’s date, 4/20. I know this day might mean different things to different people, but to me.. it was a day of fun. It was a day of laughter. It was the day I have never been more sure that I was going to die. And I’m not even sure how much of this actually happened.

It’s one of those tales that has been told so many times to so many people, that the details have gotten hazy. Or maybe the details were hazy to begin with. Probably you’re  going to think this is a tale that you really just had to be there for.. and you may be right… but still. I’ll let you be the judge, mmmkay?

The night before this epic day, one of my friends and I had gotten MIP (minor in consumption) tickets for sneaking shots at a bar. It wasn’t fun. I called my dad to tell him about the ticket and he was so angry that I was sure that he was spontaneously combusting on the other side of the phone. “Good God Carissa, another ticket? Do you know what you’re doing to me, DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING TO ME?” I know my dad  well enough to know that when he gets like this the best thing to do is to cry. It doesn’t do any good, but he’s a sucker for tears and usually will at least cease with the yelling. Plus, like most times that my water works start a flowing, these were genuine tears. We got off the phone and I hung my head in guilt, but found some comfort in the fact that he would probably still love me regardless of the fact that he thought of me as a delinquent. My friend’s fate was a little worse than my own… Her parents decided that it was time that she move back home.

There was really no choice in the matter, the situation called for a little day time get-together to try to ease our depression. Unfortunately, one of my roommates had a bug collection due for a Biology class the next day, so she somehow talked the group of us into helping her out. At the time, I didn’t really love bugs, but obliged for the sake of friendship. (I really really REALLY love bugs now) (EXCEPT FOR ANTS) (AND COCKROACHES).

We split into teams of three or four and headed our separate ways in search of some bugs.

I remember this part clearly. There was a huge storm a brewin’. The wind had that electric feeling… the kind that makes you want to stand on top of the roof and Tarzan yelp. The kind of wind that makes you feel like an engine has revved up inside your soul and makes you want to run around an apartment complex naked.

Only what we did was so much better.

Although my friends will argue still about which of us truly came up with the “game,” I know it was me though. I don’t know how I know for sure, but I do.

So there we are, walking around looking for bugs with the electricity flowing through both the air and our souls, when I started singing “Looking for bugs in all the wrong places…”

And then it was born.

“The Bug Game.”

I know it doesn’t sound like much, but on that afternoon, and on many afternoons for years to come, “The Bug Game” provided my friends and I with hours upon hours of entertainment. And yet it’s so simple. Basically you just substitute the word “love” in any song for the word “bug.”

Examples: “And I will always bug you.”

“Gonna have to face it I’m addicted to bugs.”

“I don’t wanna lose your bug tonight”

“I’ll make bug to you, like you bug me to.” (You can really replace any word with bug, and it doesn’t have to make sense…)

“More than bugs to show you feel… that your bug for me is real…”

“I just called, to say… I bug you”

“You’ve lost that Bugging feeling..”

Ok so I could go one for years. Play along if you’d like, I dare you not to.

Moving on.. So yeah, this big storm is a brewing. We had long since quit collecting bugs, and put our main focus on “the bug game,” when we noticed that the sky had gotten even darker. I have always wanted to be storm chaser, but even these wall clouds got a fear going in my belly that have never since been met. The sky literally started swirling. We stood there with our mouths wide open as the tornado formed above us. That’s when the alarms started sounding. If you’re from the south, you know that although the tornado sirens are not uncommon, they have the ability to raise every hair on your body- even on the clearest of days.

Once the rain and hail started pouring down, I got my ass in the laundry room as fast as I could. For some reason (or a very obvious one) I knew that this was it for me. I gathered every pillow in the house and my cell phone and started shaking uncontrollably. All I could think of was my dad, and how I was going to die while he was so angry with me. So I did the natural thing and called my parents to tell them goodbye. Through tears I told them that I was about to die.

I think.

Anyway. The bug game? It’s really fun. You should try.

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.

____

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

Because I’m an unconventional weido- let’s work our way backwards through the weekend.

Last night was Red Carpet Crash’s “Dallas Big Gold Statue Watching Party,” and it was so good to see some of the local blogger gals there. Shine, Natalie, and Sketch all looked absolutely gorgeous in their fancy dresses. I basically wanted to lick all of their faces. I was also so happy that  Moops and Shae-Shae made an appearance. I worked the VIP table most of the night, and besides the fact that I made the mistake of wearing 5 inch heels, I had the time of my life.

I cried about a million times during the show and not because most of my favorites didn’t win, I think that all the winners were quite deserving. That being said, Jeff Bridges- fuck .yeah. You rock my world, sir. He does. I dunno what exactly it is about him, but he warms my soul.

You will all be quite happy, or if not happy- completely dumbfounded to know that I actually got quite a bit of unpacking done on Friday night. Actually I stayed up until 5am in the morning with the scary ghosts organizing my closet.  Woohoo yay me. I still haven’t hung up anything on the walls or made any sort of attempt to detangle my jewlery, but I still feel pretty proud of myself.

Friday night I did some karaoke and probably scared a million people away, nuff said…
And now for a few post-its… For more amazing post its -check out Supah Mommy’s page!!!

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

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

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

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

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

Like. Woah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time out… Let’s take another look at my car and make sure you’re not in there.

No? Well we really can’t be sure, can we? You haven’t even seen the back seat yet. And I’m not going to bother with that because quite frankly it disgusts me to look at.

Anydisgustingness, I keep hearing about how this Craigslist world is such a magical place. I spent a million hours on it a day when I was looking for a jobby-job. As a result I never got a job, but I did go on many interesting interviews. However, it seems like everyone else that I know in the whole-wide-world has had magnificent success on Craigslist. I have friends who have sold cars in an hour, found great deals on iphones, and it seems some people have great success finding hookups. I’ll admit, I’ve spent quite a bit of time perusing the Men seeking men section. It’s quite amusing.

I know I’ve mentioned that I’m moving in a couple of weeks, and I have no idea where. Actually, there are quite a few things I need to work out in the next few weeks… I have  things to get rid of, I need a bed, and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive outside of my current living situation.

It’s very bitter sweet. I currently have 2 roommates, two of them being my two favorite gay boys in the world. Now they are moving off to live on their own, and while I’m super pumped about living with my BFF LA, who is going to blow dry my hair when I’m too lazy to do so? Who is going to make high-pitched pig oinks to deter me from eating a brownie? Who the hell is going to stop me from leaving the house looking like a homeless person?????  And once again… where am I going to live???????

In an act of desperation, I’ve decided to turn to Craigslist for answers. I know what I’m looking for may not exist, but if everything I’ve heard about Craigslist is true- I figure it’s worth a try!!!

Housing wanted: Looking for house/condo/castle/bungalow/log cabin/mansion

Location: DFW

We are 2 girls looking for housng for rent in the DFW area. We would like to be close to Fort Worth, but I work in Butt-Effing-North Dallas, so preferably something in the middle of the two. We could probably afford anything up to $1,300- but would really like to stay in the $600-$900 price range so that we have more money left over for booze and DVDs. We need a minimum of three bedrooms, a large back yard, a pool and hot tub (with a hot pool boy included,) a wet bar, 2 master bathrooms, jacuzzi tubs, a fountain, a statue somewhere in the yard, a two car garage, 2 living areas, an office, an exercise room, a wet bar, and a bidet.

Neither of us are very clean, but we promise to stuff everything in our closets if the land-lord ever needs to stop by. Actually we would prefer a land-lord that lives out of the country. Must be pet friendly as my roommate will be bringing her poop-eating Basset hound, and I will be buying a new rat in the near future. Or maybe a ferrett, I haven’t decided yet. I would reallllly like a monkey, but I’m not sure that is legal.

We are friendly neighbors, and expect the same out of anyone who lives near us!! To be more specific we would really like to live next to hot single boys. They must like to drink beer and know how to fix things and it would really help if they know how to cook.

On the other side, we would like to live next door to an old lady who likes to make ice tea and bring us left-overs.

We aren’t very loud but do like to sing and hold dance parties in our living room. We may not pay rent on time every month, but if we don’t, we promise to have super good excuses.

Can’t wait to live in your home!!

Roommate wanted: Looking for gay roommate to fill some  big shoes!!

Location: DFW

Heeeeeyyyyyyyy Lovahs!!!!!

Do you need a place to live? Do you like to clean and lot drink wine? Do you know every word to the Rent soundtrack?? We may be the roommates for you!!!

I am losing my gay best roommate, and I need a replacement ASAP.

Must love singing, watching Glee, and indulging my taste for cheezy romance movies. I sometimes forget to unplug things like hair rollers or flat-irons, so I need someone who will leave for work after me, and who will check for these things. Must be computer savvy, and know how to fix my phone when it freezes up. It is imperative that you like cheese… a lot. You must like/and know how to break in a pair of high heels in short amount of time. Must lovvvveeee to do dishes, or at least hate the way that I do them- so that you will do them yourself. It would be a great plus if you enjoy organizing things on shelves and know how to clean up an exploded toilet.

In addition your duties will also include: making sure I pay my bills, cooking all of my meals, blowing out my candles that I leave burning, figuring out how to put the tv on DVD mode, making the internet work on my computer, cleaning up glass when I drop my wine, ironing my hair with the clothes- iron when I want it really shiny, telling me when I’m being a bitch, reminding me to take back my movies, and telling me that you have all the symptoms as I do when I think I’m dying so that I don’t think I’m going to die alone.

I can deal with the bugs that need squishing, but I will need someone who will not tell anyone if I drunkenly decide to pee in an empty water cooler in the garage. I’ll keep your secrets for you too!!

Can’t wait play board games and sneak wine into art house movies with you!!!!

Jobs/Volunteer/Intern: Life Coach/decision maker needed

Location: DFW

I am a single, indecisive girl looking for a companion to help me through life!! You can be male or female, but I am (mostly) looking for a platonic relationship- so if you’re male it would be best if you’re asexual.

Job Description: Make every decision for me.

Details: Your job will be to make sure that I make no more silly mistakes in life, though if I do- you will be responsible for them.

Must be able to make quick, smart, decisions. These will range anywhere from big-life changing decisions (should I text, or should I not text) to small decisions that may or may not have an impact on my life (what should I eat for dinner.)

Skills: Nutrition, fashion, boys, social networking, facebook updating, dealing with drunk people.

Compensation: None.

___

Wish me luck!!

I cannot believe I haven’t written in almost a week. I have really missed it, though I have to admit it does feel good to unplug for a few days. I may continue to be a little scarce blogging and commenting this week, but I promise it will be business as usual after the New Year. I’m still recovering from the whirl wind that was Christmas, and I feel like certain areas of my life need a little extra special attention.

So here is a short one for ya! Check out Supahmommy’s site for more great post it’s!