I used to be the kind of girl that watched all sorts of shows. In high school, I had a daily line up of TV that I would “just die” if I missed. Daily, I would leave giant notes on the kitchen table, reminding my father to push record on the VCR at precisely 7:00pm so that I would get to watch “Beverly Hills 90210,” “Party of 5,” (I would have done ANYTHING to be a Salinger) “Friends,” or “Felicity.” I would rush home from dance class to catch up on “Dawson’s Creek” and “Louis and Clark Superman.” Every Tuesday night I was glued to the TV to catch the latest episode  of “Buffy.” I even managed to schedule my classes so that I could be home to watch the daily disaster of a soap that was “Passions.”

It was only recently that I realized that most of my friends still have their TV rituals… and I do not. Oh there are a few shows that I still watch and enjoy when I manage to catch them (usually on TIVO,) but there aren’t any that I would change my schedule around to watch.

Yesterday as I was eating dinner, I sat down to watch the second episode of “Parenthood.” I had managed to catch the first episode (on TIVO) and had really enjoyed it. About five minutes or so into the episode I got up to check my email, and never came back. I thought about it a few times, but finally decided that I would rather watch “Star Trek” for the 14th time than get involved in a TV show. Even as I was clear in my decision, it bugged me. Why wouldn’t I give this perfectly adequate show a chance?

And then it dawned on me. I have developed a relationship pattern with television that is nearly identical to the relationship pattern that I have with men.

When I was young and care free, I fell in love easily. I would watch any old show that came along, and I would watch it with passion. The shows that I watched didn’t have much depth, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they entertained me. Most of the shows that I watched in high school, ironically ended about the same time that I graduated. Either that, or I lost interest when I moved away and didn’t have cable. It was the first time I realized that shows ended. That made sad. I grew up with those programs. I learned from them, both literally and figuratively. Then they were just gone, some without warning, leaving a big empty gap in my life.

Some of the shows that I watched in high school ended up in syndication, which kept my interest for a while until they became redundant. Eventually I quit watching them all together as my taste in television began to change.

I had to try out a few different genres before I really figured out what interested me. There was a time when I was all about the drama. I liked the shows that would leave me with a cliff-hanger, having to wait a full week to see what would happen next. There was a very short amount of time when I really liked the trashy shallowness that reality shows had to offer. For a while,  I was even really taken with educational programming, and stayed glued to TLC and The Animal Planet, for no other reason but because sometimes it feels good to spend time with someone who watching a show that can teach you a little something. Eventually they all bored me.

Then I found myself in a long pattern of falling for the more “quirky” types of shows like “Mr Show” and “Greg the Bunny.” I became obsessed with “Arrested Development,” and  “Freaks and Geeks.” They were the unconventional types of shows that didn’t interest everyone, but I saw that they had something from the beginning. It took me a while, (probably right around the time that Pushing Daisies got canceled) before I realized the fundamental problem with these types of shows. For whatever reason, lack of self-promotion or maybe self confidence -these shows never last. They almost always leave me are canceled within 2 or 3 seasons, leaving me without any sort of closure.

I have finally gotten to the point where I am afraid of falling for a show and investing my time in it. I’m scared that as soon as I do, it will go off the air, leaving me wandering what would have happened next.  Even the shows that that I love that I have been more been more faithful to like “Scrubs” eventually become finicky. I  hear one week that they have been canceled, only to be renewed at the last minute, and eventually they will completely jump the shark. (God Bless you “Scrubs.”)

I think I finally know what I’m looking for. I want the whole package… something that is,  for the most part- thought-provoking, funny, and with just enough drama to keep me interested. The problem is that you actually have to invest a little time into something to know for sure if that’s what you have, and that is down right frightening to me. I know that I will never find a show that I love if I never turn on the TV. I also know that no show is perfect, but there is bound to be a television show out there that would appeal to me long term.

Maybe it’s time that I end this ridiculously long metaphorical post and go watch that second episode of “Parenthood.” Although please believe me when I  tell you that you should read no further into the title of that show. I was talking about boys here, not babies.

I’m not a fan of ending a post with a question, but have you ever felt this way? and how do you people get over this (for lack of better word) jaded-ness?

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

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

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

Here. We. Go.

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

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

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

I think my boyfriend John Cusack would be proud.

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

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!!!

Oh hells yeah, bring it on weekend.

Seriously. This has been one helluva week. I’m trying not to dwell on the bad shit and just remember that soon enough things will be settled and I’ll have a whole new set of problems to deal with.

I’m sure you’ve been wondering what sort of crazy ass shit could I have possibly gotten myself into that would cause me to be so absent from the interwebs, and when I do come around  tweet complaints left and right? (Because yes I do realize I’ve done nothing but complain the last two weeks or so and that’s not usually my nature.) (Sometimes, yes, I can be a nature-made complainer-but usually it’s in jest.) (I also realize the correct word for “nature-made” would be “natural,” but since yesterday was National Grammar Day or something I have declared that today the rest of my life will be “National Aint Usin Correctual Grammatized Wording Days”.) So HA! KELLYYY RIPPPAAAAAAAA!!!

And since it’s my blog and I can whine if I want to, whilst drinking wine I might add, that’s what I might do.

*I’ll start with the worst news first. I just found out that MY BOYFRIEND COULD BE CHEATING ON ME!!! Yes. Perez Hilton (that slimy cock-blocker) reported today that John Cusack is dating Brooke Burns. I don’t even know who she is but she looks like a man and I hope she gets herpasyphaghonnoraids something really painful that can’t be spread to my boyfriend… like a really bad hemoroid. Anyways, someone needs to alert the press that this is false information. Me and my Boyfriend John Cusack are doing just fine. Awesome, in fact. You don’t belive me? See for yourself.

Carissajaded and John Cusack 4-evah!

That pic was taken last weekend when we were just hangin around, eatin some cheese, watching Dumb and Dumber. Awesome day right!? I think we may have even taken it to pound town that day but we have so many times I can’t remember for sure.

Moving on. 

* Why won’t my stuff unpack itself? It has now been sitting in piles around my house for five days and I’m not sure what to do about it. I keep trying to use all the Jedi Mind tricks I know but they aren’t working in my new house. I’ve been contemplating sending a video into “Clean House” or whatever that reality show is called so maybe they’d come do it for me, but even they might be scared.

*My bank account is scaring me into thinking I might need to quit drinking so much wine. HAHAHAHA Just kidding. But maybe I need to stop eating or cancel my gym membership or something. After having to pay for all these moving expenses, I was flat broke. And then???? Yesterday we got our final gas bill from my old house and guess how much that was?  $800.00. EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!! FOR GAS!? With the amount of gas that should have paid for in a month I should have been able to light a match down the street and blow that place up. Then who’d be laughing? Oh probably still not me. Turns out we were on some average monthly billing program so now we have to pay all the accrued monthly something or another. It doesn’t make sense to me. But if right now, you have an image of me bending over and being sexually abused by Atmos energy, then you’d be correct.

*My new house is haunted. I’m not joking, crazyness be happenin up in here.  At first I thought it was just a coincidence that I have had two brand-new light bulbs blow out on me, but then other stuff starting happening. Of course there are the weird slams, bangs and bumps (no I’m not talking about my sexual life,) but on top of that- our ghost is all about turning on appliances. Like Monday night. I go downstairs and the kitchen faucet is running full blast. I certainly didn’t do it. LA had been asleep for hours. I went and woke her up just to make sure. And then tonight? Right after I had spent an hour trying to convince LA that we needed to get that lady from the exorcist with a high-pitched voice to come over and cleanse our house,that damn spirit turned the stove burner on. It’s not like it could have just turned by itself. It was on level 6. That crazy bitch of a ghost wanted to burn us down!

But in case you’re reading this: Ghost, I love you. I love most ghosts!! In fact I’ve always wanted to be friends with one! I say the word bitch as a synonym for friend! Things have changed since you were alive. Anyway, so far I think you’re really pretty and cool. Please don’t hurt me.

*Mi coche es un PEICE OF TURD! For the thousanth time this year, my car broke down yesterday while I was driving on the highway. I heard a snap, the power steering went out, and then I sat on the side of the road for about an hour-calling everyone I know to ask them what I should do. As of now my car is STILL in the shop. This realllllly is not helping my moo-lah situation. sighhhhhhh

Well I’m gonna go ahead and forget all of this is happening, and rock on with my bad-self this weekend. And by rock-on I obviously mean that I will be sitting in the middle of my bedroom, listening to sad tunes, trying to unpack my things using only my mind. That’s telekinesis Kyle.

Don’t forget to leave your dare in the comments, fool! Heart.

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.

This weekend was a beating. I knew it would be, I just didn’t expect it to be as ridiculous as it was. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived it had my dad not come in town to lend a helping hand. Dad, I’m not sure I’ve told you enough- but you seriously rock my world!!

I won’t bore you with the details, but I spent every waking-hour moving, cleaning out our old house, and shopping… and there were more waking-hours than I would have liked to have

Today I woke up feeling sore, tired, and overwhelmed… and naturally, slightly hungover.

The worst part is that I’m not even close to being unpacked, and what I did get done was sort of a cluster-fuck.

LA and I had both previously lived in houses where the majority of the kitchen utensils/plates/pots and pans had been our roommates, so we were both under the impression that we would be lacking in kitchen supplies. Turns out both of our parents had been hoarding random kitchen supplies for the last 5 years and brought them up for us to use.

The key word here is random.

Now? We have approximately 5 sets of plates, 3 bowls,  one set of fine china (thank you father,) 35 coffee mugs, 3 sets of incomplete utensils (all of them having a total of 4 dinner knives,) 1 rusty skillet, 8 can openers, and 4 pizza slicers, and no where to put most of it. Thank goodness we have a garage.

The hardest part about this last weekend was leaving our old house for the last time. We had some good times there, and I am going to miss my roommates like crazy. All 4-ish of them. I’m so used to having a bunch of people around, I’m worried I might go insane with so much alone time (LA travels a lot.) I’m definitely also going to miss our pool, our office where we spent the majority of our evenings, having someone cook for me, and even though our neighbors won’t miss us- I’m sure I will even miss that neighborhood.

I’m not even  sure why a our neighbors hated us so much. We didn’t have any many loud annoying parties, and we kept our front yard looking nice. I suspect it had something to do with the fact that we had so many cars parked in front of our house at all times. Of course, it also may have something to do with the fact that Jake’s car rolled into one of our neighbor’s cars the first night we were in the house. Either way, I could tell by the way they were friendly to us (while we were loading up our cars) for the first time since we’ve moved in. “Oh, so you guys are moving out? How nice!!!!”  Although one guy did ask me, quite snidely,  if we got kicked out. Pshhhhaaa. Even our mailman was excited. When we told him that yes, we were all moving out- my roommate heard him say “Thank God.”

After we finished cleaning the house, all of my  roommates and I huddled in the front yard saying goodbye. We noticed several of our neighbors poking their heads through the blinds.  We decided that we needed to leave with a bang. We all smoked cigarettes there for the first time, in the front yard, for all the neighbors to see-because we could. Then we  gave each other emotional hugs and got into our perspective vehicles. I started crying as I started the car. Yes.  I’m an emotional freakazoid, you know this. It was a sad moment, but not entirely…

Before we drove off, we all sat there blaring our horns for a good minute.

Ahhhh… sweet victory. At least we gave them a little validation for their hatred.

So I still have a shit-ton to do before I get back to my regularly scheduled program, but I promise I will get there soon.

In the mean time, I’ve  started writing a few news articles for a badass local entertainment site- Red Carpet Crash. Check it.

And for those of you in the Dallas area who want something awesome to do for the Oscars….

Red Carpet Crash is helping to host an Oscars party at Lakewood theater. I want to see you there! Click here for details.

I love you and miss you all!! For realz. I know I haven’t gotten to read much lately, but I think about you minutely!

I’m also pretty sure my boyfriend John Cusack misses my mental esp updates of your life that I send him daily.

Yeah, that was me. Or so I thought.

Turns out I was wrong. Mostly…

I am laid back, and I will do whatever is thrown at me, and I am up to trying new things… just as long as I can fit those things nicely into my daily routine.

There. I’ve said it. It’s something I’ve been in denial of for the last few years. I haven’t even been able to admit it to myself, in my own brain. This week, however, I have had no choice because it has been repeating itself in my head like a big snare drum or my mother’s pet cockatoo.

I am a creature of habit. I must abide by the routine.

I haven’t always been this way. There was a time in my life when I was ok without a routine because my life required me to be. One day I would come home and eat and early dinner, and the next I wouldn’t eat until eleven at night. One morning I would have class at eight am and the next morning I would sleep until one.

I’m not sure if it was work, or starting to exercise  and drastically changing my diet, or just taking a little bit more control over my life that influenced it- but at some point in the last few years I became a habitual person.

Every week day, I wake up around 7am:15am and head to work at 7:30. I eat every day at 11:45. I leave work at 5:00 and head straight to the gym. After I work out, I come home, eat dinner, take a shower, spend at least an hour writing something and then either play on the internet or watch a movie. Every so often I forgo the gym and eating dinner at home, and will meet friends for drinks or go to the movie theater, but not often enough to where I feel out of control.

The last few days as I’ve been preparing to move, things have gotten crazy. I know for most people it probably wouldn’t be such a big ordeal, but for those of you who know me or have been following me for a while- let’s all think for a moment about the “hurricane” that is my life.

I know I just admitted here to all the internets that I do, in fact, have to have a routine- but there is practically nothing else in my life that is in order. When I say that my life is a mess, I’m not speaking metaphorically. I mean that the things in my life are a fucking mess. I promised myself that with this move, I would finally attempt to organize my “tangible” life, which is no easy task.

My car is a disaster. My jewelery is in knots. There are receipts, letters, keepsakes, and pieces of paper with random thoughts and ideas jotted on them- stuffed in drawers and piled in stacks around my room. I have had to do about 30 loads of laundry, and half of those clothes are 8 sizes too big and have been in the back of my closet for the last year and a half. I have at least 30 half-pairs of socks, which I just don’t understand.

I’m starting to feel a little better with each task that I complete, but at the same time peeps- I’m going freaking crazy!!! I’ve had to make several  trips to the store to get boxes or trash bags or cleaning supplies. I am extremely ADD so I’ve started a million different tasks that I haven’t yet finished, which just makes everything feel chaotic. Even when I’m not staying on task, I’m thinking about what I need to be doing- or most often, what I’m not doing that I would like to be doing.

I haven’t worked out in nearly a week, and I have eaten out (and off my diet) for nearly every meal.  I haven’t gotten to read or write much, and I have the opportunity to start writing for a really cool site and it really sucks that I haven’t yet been able to put the time into it that I would like.

I have been getting to bed even later than usual and I haven’t been sleeping very well. And now I have this pressure that I have put on myself to get my entire life organized- and I ONLY HAVE 2 MORE DAYS TO DO SO!!!

I know I’m not going to be able to finish everything, and that’s OK. I do want to make this move a new beginning of sorts. The last couple of weeks I have decided to step out of my “box”  and try new things and I want to continue to do so. But at the same time, I want to try to adapt to a more orderly “tangible” lifestyle.

I’ve realized that I’ve become immune to messiness, especially when I’m in good spirits. But when I am down, the disorder begins to suffocate me. I think this change could do wonders for my mentality. I want to take a little more time concentrating on the little things, and not so much time skipping over things just so I can live the way I’m used to.  Maybe instead of a “hurricane,” my friends will start to call me “tornado“… or “thunder shower.”

Yet here I am, venting to you guys in this non-though-out, probably incredibly grammatically incorrect post, because I HAD TO. I feel much better now, though I do feel slightly guilty that I have spent nearly twenty-five minutes sitting here in front of my computer writing utter nonsense.

Thanks for lending an ear, good people of the inter-web.

I most likely will not be back until Tuesday, and let’s all hope that by then- I’m a little more organized, a little more sane, and back into my (slightly adjusted) daily routine.

I think John Cusack (My boyfriend) will approve.

WORD.

And completely unrelated, there are quite a few of my lovah’s out there who have recently given me awards. Don’t think I have forgotten about you. One day, in the not so distant future, I WILL do an award post,

I am going to go ahead and skip right to the post-it’s, but before I do- I have to say -I MISS YOU GUYS!!!

I may be without the interwebs until Monday, so I will not be able to go around and read all of your wonderful, hilarious, thought provoking posts… and for that, I apologize! I also won’t be writing here as much as I’d like, and I may go Britney Spears crazy because of it. I hope yall will still love me if I come back next week with a shaved head and  2 kids on my hip. Please?

I also have the urge to eat something chocolaty right now, but that really has nothing to do with any of this except for my inability to stay on subject.

Thall shalt not hath to wait-eth any mor-eth. Here is thou mighty post-its.

(See. Crazy is already taking over-eth.)

For many more fantabulous post-it’s, make sure you check out Supah-Mommy’s page!

I may not have a magic hot tub, but I certainly have an incredibly disgusting bath tub. EEEKKKK

*** It is not usually like this. We have a drain problem which has kept me from taking hour long relaxing baths. Now I’m afraid to even stand in the shower because within seconds the water rises above my ankles… I wasn’t lying about being bald in a few weeks. That is ALL hair! (Not all mine)

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Look how clean!

All that's left is a blow up mattress!!

Ok so there are a few of my things left... but mostly, all gone!

My work station at home. Still completely intact.

ahhhhh closet vomit!!!!

ummm a few stacks of things that are ready to be packed?

I'm trying to keep the clean clothes off the dirty floor without actually having to hang them up. It is semi-effective.

Soooo… yeah. I still have a million kazzillion bajillion things to do. I want to cry. All I want to do is go lie in bed and watch season 1 of Heroes that I just rented 5 days ago and haven’t been able to watch because of my television commitment issues. But that’s being saved for another post. I love you people and please stick with me though I will be taking a bit of a absentee ballot (it’s more like I never registered) for the next few days/weeks. Soon I will be back to wreak both havoc and  love into all of your lives. In the mean time, GCHAT ME BITCHES! I neeeeeeeed youuuu! (If you don’t have my google name, its carissajade, don’t tell)

Awwwww yeahhhhhh I’m goin to bed at a decent hour on a freakin air mattress.

Still don’t have a bed and this makes me teary eyed. I also have not yet been contacted by the J to the Cusack. I wander if he did some research and found out about my voting history. EEEEKKKK.

Suckas.

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!!

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

I’m gonna try to keep this short today, mostly due to the fact that I’m busy packing for my move next weekend. Just kidding. I haven’t started packing yet silly face. I’m just extremely ADD and have been sitting here in front of my computer for the last 4 hours, checking facebook, twitter, and watching stupid tv shows… and now that it’s 11:15 and I’m already ambiened up,  I don’t think I have many coherent minutes left in me.

My senior year of college I took an extensive Spanish class, which basically meant 3 hours of non-stop Spanish, 3 days a week. It was miserable.

What could possibly make 3 hours of abburido espanol even more excruciating?

I’ll tell you.

It was one of the first weeks of class, before I had spent a million hours with my fellow classmates and didn’t know anyone very well yet. I sat down, and as usual- attempted to quickly copy the answers from the back of the workbook. Which is something that I don’t understand, but I won’t get into that today.

So I’m sitting there when I notice a peculiar scent. A very pungent scent. To be more exact, it was of the “came from the ass region” variety.

I looked around, not sure whether I should bring it up, as I didn’t know who, or what, it had come from. It was pretty clear from the fact that it wasn’t waning, that someone hadn’t just broke wind.

I examined all of my neighbors, trying to figure out which one of them would be most likely not to wipe very well.

As I looked around the room, I could tell that I wasn’t the only person who was offended by the poo smell. A few people around me were snickering and looking around for the culprit.

I finally decided to speak up, and I asked the boys next to me, jokingly, if they had shit their pants. After a few minutes, pretty much the entire class was talking about the awful smell.

The teacher eventually asked what all the chatter was about. Everyone started laughing, and leave it to my big mouth to speak up.

“Ummmm… something smells REALLY bad in here.”

It was about that time that the quiet boy sitting behind me finally decided to speak up.

“Uh.. well it’s probably because you have a whole load of poop on the bottom of your shoe…”

I looked down at the foot that I had crossed around my knee, and sure enough… that sumofabiznitch was correct. There was a big load of dog shit on the bottom of my shoe.

Awesome.

Which leads me to last night.

I’m sitting here, at my computer, one leg up on the seat with my knee hugged against my chest like I always do… typing up a post- just as I am now… when I smell something rancid. My two boy roommates were both in the room, so I go ahead and assume it was one of them.

After a few more minutes the smell did not dissipate. I came to the conclusion that it seemed to be coming from me!

I hadn’t passed gas that I was aware of, but I decided to sit for a few more moments just to make sure.

I keep my shit clean people. I mean that as much as one can mean that. I may not shower EVERY day, but I’m clean.

Even so, the scent was coming from somewhere so close to my, well my nether-region, that I was sure of. Eventually, I decided to suck it up and bend my head down to get a closer smell.

EWWWWWWW

Something wasn’t right. I went to the bathroom to check things out, as anyone would in my situation, and came out even more confused. I smelled just fine.

I came back to my desk and assumed my position and the smell was back. Suddenly, I remembered the Spanish class incident and checked my shoe.

All was right in the world once again.

My ass didn’t smell.

There was poo on my shoe.

WIN!!!