I don’t know about you, but the last few years as my thirties have been looming over me, I’ve had to face a few harsh realizations. I’ll never learn to do my “nine” times tables without using my fingers, my left knee will always forecast the weather better than Al Roker, and unfortunately; I’ll either have to work out until I’m 65 and don’t care anymore- or I’ll end up working in Vegas as a Rosie O’Donnell impersonator.

I’m weird about working out. I do it in spurts. For months at a time I’ll get on a kick where I’ll be getting physical more than Olivia Newton John- and then I’ll get burnt out and my hard core workouts will slowly trickle into slow walks around the block. Or mosies, as I like to call them.

For years, I hated going to gym more than I hated doing algebra. You couldn’t pay me to enter a building where people wore tight clothing and made faces like they were having sex as they lugged huge pieces of metal and ran on a machine with no destination and when no scary person was chasing them with a gun. A gym used to be nothing to me but a sweat sauna. I thought that I would walk in and everyone would stare at me and judge me for my rolls of fat and for not being enthusiastic about doing sit-ups. I hated that there was a place that encouraged people to do sit-ups. A gym, in short- was my version of hell.

Now I see things a bit different.

Don’t get me wrong, I still despise going to the gym. If given the choice, I’d rather sit on the couch and watch a Hannah Montana marathon, but as I said before- I don’t really have that choice at this point in my life. I can still complain about it until my face turns blue- and I could will throw tomatoes at Tony’s stupid face on the TV screen if you make me do P90X, but that doesn’t change the fact that it has to be done. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy it. I will say that I still enjoy dancing and I love the way yoga makes me feel, but everything else? Is for the birds. If someone says that they truly love spin class, their pants are either on fire or they are freak-flying over the cuckoo’s nest.

I will say this though, as much as I hate going to the gym- I have learned how to thoroughly enjoy myself once I get there. And since I love you all so much, I’ve decided to let you in on my secrets.

1. Be better than someone.

Whether you are a newbs at the gym, or a novice at pumping iron- I can promise you this: there is always someone there that you can beat at something. My gym is full of older people and women who use the gym as social hour…there is always someone I can beat at working out. It may sound a little mean, but let me tell you- you get on a treadmill next to someone who is about the same level of in-shape as you, and keep a close eye on their treadmill to make sure that you are going a tiny bit faster and burning a few more calories- and it’s no longer a workout- it’s a competition. Within a few minutes you’ll want to break out in a full-on run just to prove that you can.

That’s kind of why I like going to aerobics classes. The minute that I want to keel over and die, I simply look around for someone who is half-assing it more than I am, and then turn it up just a tad bit. It doesn’t mean you have to work a whole lot harder. Just enough to feel good about yourself that you can do more sit-ups than an 80 year old man. Win. And it’s always fun to win.

2. Pretend that it is all a performance.

This may sound a little weird, but if you change your frame of mind a little bit- it’s a guaranteed good time. Rather than thinking of my work-out as simply a time to burn calories and firm up my jelly, I prefer to play a character. This will probably be a little easier for those of you with a flare for the dramatic, but if you can get there- I promise it will change your life forever.

As I mentioned before, I have always loved to dance. More than that- I love to be on stage and role-play. I do it in all other facets of my life, so why not at the gym? If I’m in spin class, I pretend that I’m actually a biker on get-away race. If I’m swimming laps, in my brain I’m actually in the movie Jaws, trying my damndest to out-swim old sharp tooth. When I’m in aerobics class, I am performing in an aerobics video. When it looks to you that I’m lifting weights, in my head I’m actually starring in a sports movie-montage. The music you choose to listen to plays a key role in the tone and mood of your performance. It’s your soundtrack, so choose wisely. Bob Dylan is grand- but he doesn’t make well for a well- played character, unless you want to go all Clint Eastwood in the gym. Not only does role-playing take your mind away from what your actually doing, but it also helps you to achieve a damn good work-out. You don’t think Natalie Portman lost 20 pounds by just sitting on her ass, do you?

3. Make it all a performance.

Sometimes, playing a role in your head just isn’t enough. In fact, once your in character- often times, you can’t help but letting it out a little bit- and it feels good. It might be a little daunting at first, but a lot of people do it. Just look around. Those dudes don’t HAVE to make the grunting sound when they’re lifting dumb-bells. No. They are letting they’re inner Sylvester Stallone show through- and you should too.

It doesn’t have to be overly obvious; you can just take it as far as you feel comfortable. For instance, when your walking on the treadmill and listening to a Hilary Duff song on your ipod that you don’t know the words to, mouth them anyway. Nod your head. Don’t be afraid to dance a little. This is the only time in your life when people won’t know that you don’t actually know the words that you’re faking. Even sing a word out loud now and then. People around you will feel jealous that you are having so much fun, which once again- makes your workout a win.

If you happen to be in a Palates class, don’t be afraid to stare at yourself seductively in the mirror. If you’re in weight aerobics, add in the hip shakes and shoulder bounces when you feel so inclined. Focus on yourself in the mirror, and just know that everyone else in there is focusing on themselves as well. If you’re running on a track, stop and do a silly dance. If you’re lifting weights and Bohemian Rhapsody comes on your ipod, stop and use the weight as a microphone for a moment. Stop caring what anyone else thinks. Working out doesn’t benefit anyone but you, so you should only worry about yourself while doing it.

4. Point and Laugh.

This is going to sound completely hypocritical after all that I’ve said before about feeling self conscious at the gym and how everyone focuses on their selves while working out; but your just going to have to accept the fact that I am, actually a bit of a hypocrite. But I would be even more so if I said that I didn’t enjoy making fun of people in my head a little bit. And believe me, if you follow my advice about roll-playing and making your work-out a performance, I can promise you that people will be making fun of you in their heads too, so just think of it as pay-back. And payback is always a bitch.

Besides, other than Six Flags, there is no better place in the world to people watch than the gym. There are all kinds of interesting people who have to work out just like we do. People wear weird things to the gym. They make weird faces. They talk to their friends about interesting personal matters. They do weird things with their mouths when they think no one is watching. They wear gray pants so it looks like they have peed when they get crotch sweat. So watch…. and laugh quietly to yourself as you do your own weird things. It makes time go by so fast, and it will get your mind off of thinking you are going to pass out.

5. Mix it up a bit.

Everyone always says to mix up your workouts so that you won’t get bored. That is not what I mean at all. Although I do have to say that that works too.

What I’m talking about though, is something entirely different. As much as you might mix your actual workout up, it’s still a workout. So to make things interesting and entertaining- you have to really think outside the box and change the other factors that play into your workout.

Try listening to something out of the ordinary on your ipod. I use my exercise time as music exploration time. Yesterday, I listened to nothing but jazz. Last week, I listened to history podcasts. When I do choose to listen to my same old mix, I have to keep myself on my toes somehow, so I decided a while back to put Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You up” in my work out mix several times, only I went into my itunes and changed the title and artist as another band that I put on my mix so that I will effectively rickroll myself at least once a workout. It never fails to make me laugh.

I also decided that since the girls who wear sports bras and other ridiculous work out attire, are so entertaining to me- that I would join them in making my outfit enjoyable to others. I try to always wear ridiculous t-shirts to the gym. I even cut the arm-pits out of an old NSYNC shirt, because it makes me laugh.

If your really brave, try wearing an early 90′s thong leotard paired with lycra leggings and an exercise belt. Then you’ll really be able to role-play flash dance! Perhaps the next time your in aerobics and your teacher decides to put on techno-music, you should get up and flick the lights on and off to make it like a gay-bar. Why the hell not? Your paying for it. What are they going to do, kick you out?

Well maybe…. But regardless, working out sucks balls- but I hope that I could be of at least a little assistance in making it more fun for you.

This has actually been a big thing for me in the last few weeks… “self forgiveness.” I was recently forced to make the toughest decision of my life and sometimes I feel like hitting myself over the head with a stapler, because I’m not sure I did the right thing.

Lately, I feel like I’ve really been struggling with the concept of “let it be.” I curse myself for my lack of self confidence and my inability to be content. I carry on a facade of being “happy go lucky,” which is usually true in the moment. It’s later on, once my brain takes some time to process things that I go on this irrational rollercoaster of emotions.

It’s not only my mind that I have to forgive myself for, my relationship with my physical self has always been a bit rocky.

I don’t think I’ve been particularly kind to my body in the past.

I have starved it and overfed it. I’ve allowed myself to drown in alcoholic binges. There have been times in my past where I’ve gone on blind food binges.
I haven’t always respected myself when it comes to men. I’ve consciously let myself be taken advantage of.

I know that I have some issues, but I think I do a pretty good job at facing them. At least I have self awareness, but I’m not always sure that’s a good thing. There’s quite a bit of truth to that old saying “Ignorance is Bliss.” Oh Plato, you genius you.

I doubt there will ever be a time in my life when I’m not struggling with myself… when I’m not punishing myself or pushing myself to be better at life, but I do hope to get a little bit closer to being content.

I go through phases. Sometimes I’m all about discovering new bands and feeling on top of the world because I found something amazing before the rest of the world got a hold of it. Other times I like to delve into genres that I wouldn’t ordinarily listen to- like country, R & B or soul. Lately though, I’ve had the urge to fall back on some of the music that has gotten me through the tough times and the best times. Lately I can’t seem to get enough of it. I’ve been walking around with ear buds stuck in my ears, singing like there’s no tomorrow. I get home from work- and instead of turning on the tv- I put on some Paul Simon and dance around my house like I did when I was a kid. I can’t wait to work out, because I know for at least an hour, I’ll have some quality ear-time with my ipod. I’m a nerd that way, but I don’t care. It makes me feel alive, and after the last few months- I need that more than anything.

I also mentioned a couple weeks ago that I’ve been keeping track of all the things in the world that truly make me happy. About 90% of those things have been music related. The other 10% have been nerd-tv related, but that’s a completely different post.

Since I’ve been on a cheese-fest here lately, I’ve decided to share some of my all-time-favorite happy songs. These are all songs that have meant something to me at some point in my life. Not all of them are “happy” in the most obvious sense, but they all have the ability to move me.  Most of the songs that made the list are ones you know, and probably seem cliche. But so is your face.

And now, in no particular order:

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Huey Lewis and the News: Power of Love

Before ipods and all that shizzle, there was a little thing that we called the “the mixed tape.” I made many. Most of them were made with songs that I taped off of the radio. Sometimes I would even record my voice in between the songs and pretend I was a radio DJ. Shut up. One of the mixed-tapes that I remember with the most clarity, was one that I labeled “Put On A Happy Face” in purple magic marker. This is the song that inspired that mix. Later, when CD’s and MP3′s were all the rage, I made a mix titled “Happy Go Lucky.” The first song among a very random NSYNC/Rolling Stones/The Beatles/ Belle and Sebastian compilation was, once again, “The Power of Love.” I don’t know whether my love for this song stemmed from my love for “Back to the Future” or whether it just struck a chord with me somewhere along the line, but to this day- I cannot hear it without smiling. A few months ago, I had a pretty rough break-up with a guy who had a major hard-on for Huey, and I was a little scared that this song would somehow lose it’s… ahem… “power.” But alas, it still does it for me.

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The Cure: Mint Car

BAHHH!!!! I’m listening to this now and I can barely type because I’m dancing in my chair. Just hearing the first chords makes me want to skip down the street and pick flowers and have a down feather pillow fight and roll down a steep green hill. I’m a HUGE fan of The Cure in general, but this song really does it for me. Even when I’m not feeling particularly happy about relationships, this song somehow manages to give me hope. I hope that one day I feel half of what Robert Smith felt when he wrote this.

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Meatloaf: Paradise By the Dashboard Light

This song isn’t about a happy situation. In case you’re not familiar, Meatloaf wants to get laid, and he wants it bad. He promises this chick the moon and the stars and a wedding ring if she’ll just drop her panties. When she finally does, all he wants is out. It’s actually quite hilarious. This is one of my favorite songs in all the land. Not only because the story makes me laugh, but it brings back memories of when I taught dance at a summer camp  during college. I was the leader of our “summer olympics” and made up an epic parody of this song about our “white team.” It was greatness. And we won. Or at least came in second out of three, I can’t remember. But I do remember all 8 minutes of the original lyrics, and I sing them at any chance I get. It’s fun for me to annoy people sometimes.

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Peter Gabriel: Solsbury Hill

I don’t have much to say about this song, except for it makes me smile. I think that Peter Gabriel wrote it about when he was leaving Genesis. It’s all a little bitter sweet. He knew that it was a tough decision, but he also knew what was best for him at the time. I feel that way a lot. People don’t necessarily understand why I do the things I do. I don’t always make the smartest choices in life; but I rarely do anything without putting a lot of thought into them. No matter what I do, things seem to fall into place eventually. I think that’s what this is about. And I love it.

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Billy Joel: Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Ahhhh… Billy Joel. I love him with all of my soul. And I like rhyming. But honestly, “The Stranger” is one of my all time favorite albums of all time. Again, I don’t think most people would say that “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” is necessarily a “happy” song all the way through. It’s about reminiscing about happy times though, and sometimes that’s almost as good as actually living in a moment. Sometimes events seem better once they have some time to settle in. The other day, one of my facebook friends described this song as being a sandwich. I think that’s exactly what it is. A beautiful, delicious, piano-man sandwich. I want to eat it up over and over again. Especially the middle part with all the good stuff.

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Steve Winwood: Back in the High Life

This is, without question, the first piece of musical ear candy that I turn to when I’m feeling down. I know it’s cheesy. I know it is a bit cliche. But dude, it’s instant medicine for your soul. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself driving down the street with my windows down with this song as the soundtrack. It’s about opportunity and hope and all the good things about life. A couple weeks ago when I was feeling down, my roommate called to tell me that I had to watch the latest “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” episode, which was just a given. They used this song in a scene and LA was like- ” this will make you happy.” And sho-nuff, it always does.

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John Prine and Iris DeMent: In Spite of Ourselves

John Prine writes good songs. That’s a given. But this has to be the best love song of all time. It’s funny, it’s honest, and it makes people happy.

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Paul Simon: I Know What I Know

My Lord, I could probably make 3 posts just about the Paul Simon songs that I love, but that would get old really quick. This is one of those songs that I don’t really understand. I think it’s about just living in the moment and taking things as they come, but I could be completely wrong. It doesn’t really matter. This song reminds me of being a kid, of dancing around my room to one of my favorite albums (Graceland), and  that in itself, makes me ecstatic. I recently re-downloaded the album and have listened to it non-stop the last few weeks. It makes me dance like a crazy mad-woman and I love that.

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Hall and Oates: You Make My Dreams Come True

Well if this isn’t as cliche as they come, I don’t know what is. This is another one that reminds me of my childhood. I remember my mother popping in a “Hall and Oates” cassette tape on the way to swimming lessons and rolling my eyes at my mother’s obsession. Secretly though, I loved it. It’s another band that I could go on forever and a day about but truly, I think Marc Webb portrayed this song’s meaning best in “500 Days of Summer.” He showed the world what this song has always meant to me. It makes me want to snap my fingers and high-five strangers and now I’m officially a gay-wad. Is that word PC? Who cares? This song makes me not care about anything!!!

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Bob Schneider: Big Blue Sea

Again, not an inherently happy song, but one that has a history with me. Bob was kind of our guy in college. In high school it was Pat Green, but in college my group of friends were all Bob- fanatics. We went to as many of his shows as we could. We listened to The Scabs while we were getting ready and drinking Natural Light. He just reminds me of the best times. Two of my best friends in the world recently got engaged at a Bob concert. They are planning to walk down the aisle to 40 Dogs. I love that. I really don’t have a favorite song, but Big Blue Sea is always one of my go to’s when I’m feeling down.

Alrighty folks, that’s enough for tonight… but this post will be continued. Maybe not tomorrow, because I am a commitment-phobe… but soon. Sleep tight mutha ucka’s. And sing pretty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I fucking love being me.

Anylies, the first day’s topic is:

“Something you hate about yourself.”

For the entire list, check this.

Alright, do you have all day?

I hate that I have a flair for the dramatic, when all I want is for a situation to calm down. I hate my really tiny pinky toenails. I hate that I have an abundance of body hair. I hate that I cannot say no. I hate that I can’t sing. I hate that no matter how hard I try, my stomach will never get flat. I hate that I deal with things through food and alcohol. I hate that I don’t have a good relationship with food. I hate that my hair turns brassy 3 weeks after I dye it. I hate that I have too round of a face. I hate that I suck at math. I hate that I fall in love so easily. I hate that I love being the center of attention, but talking in front of crowds scares me. I hate that I have taken advantage of my parents. I hate that I am not brave enough to really chase after my dreams. I hate that while I am great at friendships, I don’t seem to be very good at relationships. I hate that I don’t have the self confidence that I often pretend that I have. I hate that after 20 years of trying, I still can’t do an Italian accent. I hate that I’m forgetful. I hate that I really don’t love working out. I hate that I am sometimes too lazy to keep up friendships. I hate that I’m lazy. I hate that I get depressed. I hate that I get jealous. I hate that I don’t know who I am.

ahhhhhhhhh…..

That was easy.

If I had to pick one thing though, I’d say that I hate my lack of self control.

There isn’t one aspect of my life that I think has gone to an extreme, but overall- I just don’t have enough.

I’m not an alcoholic, but I drink too much. I like to drink, but I have realized over the last few years that I really need to slow down. I’m fine with that until I go out with my friends… and then, you know… once it hits your lips it just feels so good and… stuff.

I’m the same way with food. No matter how healthy I’ve gotten in my life it’s always been one extreme or the other. I either eat the whole buffet or I obsess about what goes through my body. I’ve overcome a lot when it comes to this, but I’m sure it is something that I’ll always struggle with.

Self control issues have really buried themselves into all parts of my life and my personality. I say things I know I shouldn’t say, I think things I shouldn’t think, and I have an extremely difficult time sticking to a structured plan. I think part of it has to do with ADD, but part of the problem lies deeper than that. It’s something I’ve always struggled with, even as a child.

I had this thing when I was little, where I my hands had to feel moist at all times. I would carry a “wet napkin” around with me and constantly squish it around in my hands. I washed my hands whenever I had the chance; and I would spend hours upon hours in the tub. My doctor said I had the worst case o OCD he had ever seen in a 4 year old. Some might say that I had an over achiever’s amount of self control, seeing the meticulous way that I kept myself clean, but even then I knew that I should have been able to refrain. I didn’t though.

Sometimes I think that my lack of self control is the root of most of my problems. My inability to say no; the fact that I fall in love easily; the fact that I can easily spend $100 bucks in an hour on itunes.

I’m hoping that it’s something that I’ll be able to solve like a mathematical equation. Now that I know the root of the problem I’ll be able to figure out what I need to do to fix it. It might take a lot of trial and error, but eventually, I’ll get there.

Since November is apparently the month of ambition and rash decisions, I’ve decided to add another one to my plate.
Yesterday I mentioned the phenomenon of NABLOPOMO, and laughed at the concept of trying to participate. Well since publishing my last blog, ( which by the way was actually published on November 1st but I can’t figure out how to set the military style time on WordPress so it always publishes to the day before,) I’ve decided that I will, in fact participate.
I can’t promise that I’ll write anything worth reading, or that the words will even be readable, or even in English for that matter- but I can promise that I am going to try my absolute damndest to write a little something every day in November. At first I was going to try to write on my other blog, but I’m not sure I’m up to facing that subject matter just yet. Right now I’m focused on trying to clear my mind and move on in life. So bear with me.

Also, since my blogs have been a little down in the dumpsters lately, I’m going to attempt to lighten up.

So… here I am. Ready to start. On day two of blogging about happy things every day for 30 days.

Hmmm..

Oh… well before I get started on happy things, I guess I should start with saying a few things about my dog BB Jellybean, who died last Friday.

BB Jellybean, You will be missed.

We got BB when I was in the 9th grade. My little sister decided that she wanted a toy poodle, so that’s what we got. BB didn’t often look like a poodle though. We loved the hell out of that puppy, but my parent’s always preferred the afro-look to the well groomed poodle look. I wince to think that I got my own personal grooming habits from my parent’s dog-grooming habits.

BB was never the typical pet. She didn’t like to go on walks. She didn’t like to chase after balls. She hated water, and she preferred to sleep on a purple velvet pillow. BB went everywhere with us, and she went there in our arms. She was never happier than when she was perched in my little sister’s lap. She belonged to all of us, but she was really my sister’s best friend. I remember when my sister was in the 5th grade and her best friend moved away, that she spent an entire day cuddled up with our little BB – stating over and over that BB was her best friend.

I feel awful that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. The last time I went home, which was only a few weeks ago, BB wasn’t doing well but I didn’t think she would be going just yet. She lost her eyesight a few months back, and I noticed that her hearing must have been going too, because she didn’t greet me at the door when I arrived. I let her sleep in my bed that night, and when I woke up she had left me a couple little presents, but I really didn’t mind. I just chalked it up to her not wanting to wake me up to let her out. BB was always really respectful like that.

About two weeks ago BB quit eating. She would barely even touch the scrambled eggs, cheese and ice cream sandwiches that my parent’s attempted to feed her by hand. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her, but said that it was probably something digestive. They gave her some antibiotics, but she still wouldn’t eat.

I have been so busy the last few weeks, that I hadn’t really been able to digest BB’s passing until tonight. I’m not sure what I believe about the human after life, but I’m 1 thousand-million percent sure that BB is in a happy place now. She’s eating popcorn and fish- crackers and she’s listening to the Little Mermaid with my late parrot Billy and my rat Bogart.

As much as “Pet Cemetary” scares the bejeezus out of me, I’m pretty sure that I would reserruct BB if I had the chance. Zombie BB might be a little bit evil, but I loved her that much.  

I miss you BB, wherever you are!

Now, moving on.

Last night over dinner, my date and I played a little game that I love. It’s actually one of my most favorite games in the whole world.

Desert Island movies.

I know, it’s so simple. But it combines my two favorite pastimes- movies, and talking about movies. How can you go wrong with that?

Basically, you just go back and forth telling your favorite movies of all time and why. Sooo… errrmmm… maybe it’s not technically a game, but it turned out to be a really good ice-breaker. Plus, I’m much more inclined to like someone if they have good taste in film. What? Like you would date someone who claimed that “Wicker Man” (the remake) is actually a good film.

On my drive back home, I recounted the movies that I had said I wouldn’t be able to live without.

10. The Princess Bride

9. Back to the Future Trilogy (They all count as 1)

8. Anchorman

7. The Jerk

6. The Truman Show

5. High Fidelity

4. The Big Lebowski

3. Garden State

2. Big Fish

1. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

I realized though, that I hadn’t included any movies from my absolute favorite genre of film. The Musical.

I know that for most people, musicals are either take’em or leave’em. And for me? I’ve always took them. I was raised on Musicals. I’ve can recite every word to the soundtrack of Hair. I’ve seen Little Shop of Horrors more than most men have watched Pulp Fiction. And I’ve wanted to BE Kim McAfee in Bye Bye Birdie for as long as I can remember.

Today I felt a little nostalgic so I decided to download the Bye Bye Birdie soundtrack to listen to as I worked. At first it made me happy. I was singing along jovially at my desk to “One Last Kiss,” and “Put on a Happy Face.” But when “How Lovely to be a Woman” came on, my attitude turned cold.

I realized that I was raised on a lie. I mean, the lyrics to this happy-go-lucky anthem about womanhood are complete and utter bullshit. I can admit that yes, it’s a musical… it’s supposed to be schmaltzy. But this? Is going overboard. IT”S LIES!!!! At least when you apply it to my life.  Take a look.

When you’re a skinny child of fourteen,
Wide with braces from ear to ear,
You doubt that you will ever be appealing.

It starts off OK enough. I was never a skinny child, but since I did wear braces and have the self-esteem of a leprechaun, I can let that slide.

Then Hallelujah! You are fifteen
And the braces disappear
And your skin is smooth and clear
And you have that happy grown-up female feeling.

There was nothing about 15 that made me scream Hallelujah. Except for maybe the fact that I was so inept at algebra that my teacher suggested I be the theater director’s assistant instead of receiving another F in math. I did lose the braces but they were replaced with a painful retainer. My skin was definitely not smooth or clear. And I’m pretty sure that ‘happy grown up feeling”  she’s referring to is said in sarcasm and is referring to the wrath of having painful cramps, mood swings, and the task of wearing a big bulky diaper between your legs for a week out of every month.

How lovely to be a woman,
The wait was well worth while;
How lovely to wear mascara
And smile a woman’s smile.

First of all, in what world does being 15 constitute being a “woman”?  At the age of fifteen I couldn’t even drive myself to the movies, much less pay for my ticket. I may have had a few weeks in my life where wearing mascara seemed glamorous, but it was only a matter of time before I found out that if you put it on, you have to take it off or you’ll end up looking like a drug whore; and that’s a pain in the ass.

How lovely to have a figure,
That’s round instead of flat;
Whenever you hear boys whistle,
You’re what they’re whistling at.

Who wants a round figure? I mean I get that at fifteen the boys prone to say things like “If you didn’t have feet would you wear shoes? Then why do you wear a bra?” But round? No thank you. I think that’s one of the things that we women tend to avoid.

And umm. Guys who whistle are just creepy by any account. I’ve found that if a guy whistles at you, he’s either:

1. A construction worker

2. A yard man.

or 3. A creepy old man.

None of those are men who I want whistling at me.

It’s wonderful to feel
The way a woman feels;
It gives you such a glow just to know
You’re wearing lipstick and heels!

I would die a happy woman if I could avoid ever wearing heels again. The only glow they give me is the glow of pain.

How lovely to be a woman
And have one job to do;
To pick out a boy and train him
And then when you are through,
You’ve made him the man you want him to be!

Now this part I can get on board with. I would love to live in a society where it was my job to pick out a boy to be perfect little slave gentleman. I would make mine cook me eggs every morning and give me 3 hour massages every evening. He would hate football and like to iron. He would like to dance, have a nice reading voice, and laugh at everything that I say. I wouldn’t stop at one. I would be really, really good at my job and train about seven of them. I would never have to deal with dirty laundry or dishes again.

Life’s lovely when you’re a woman like me!
How wonderful to know
The things a woman knows;
How marvelous to wait for a date
In simply beautiful clothes!

I don’t know about most “women,” but I’m a freaking wreck before a date. I run through every possible scenario and we’ve already broken up 4 times in my head before we even sit down for dinner. Plus, I’m too poor to have beautiful anything right now. My clothes are all 3 sizes too big and completely out of style.

How lovely to be a woman
And change from boys to men,
To go to a fancy nightclub
And stay out after ten.
How lovely to be so grown-up and free!
Life’s lovely when you’re a woman like me!

I really don’t get this one at all. This song was supposed to be written about a girl who was living in the fifties. Were times that much better back then? I know when I was 15, I didn’t get to stay out after 10 unless I lied to my parents. I wasn’t allowed to even enter a nightclub, much less a fancy one. And boys were definitely still boys.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just bitter because it’s a certain time of the month. I think I’ll go listen to The Sound of Music. There can’t possibly be anything ion that soundtrack that could piss me off.

Except maybe “16 going on 17.”

Musicals suck.

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.

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

Have a great weekend!!!!

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?

Dearest Ketchup,

Is Ketchup OK? Or do you prefer Catsup? For now we’ll stick with Ketchup…

I’m not trying to come across like a creepy fan here, but I feel like it’s time I came clean with you about a few things.

I heart cuddling.

 I have been a huge, HUGE fan of yours for a  very very VERY long time, and I think it’s time you understood the extent of my love for you.

Just so you know, I’ve only written a few fan letters in my life. One was to Jonathon Taylor Thomas, one was to Keith Coogan (yes this Keith Coogan) (and it may have been like last year on Myspace) (Because I LOVE him and ”the dishes are done, man”) and one was to Seth Green. I was really fucked up watching Robot Chicken when I wrote the Seth Green one, so I’m not even sure it should count. I haven’t EVEN written John Cusack a fan note yet. Oh I’ve sent him a few ambien induced tweets, but still. What I’m trying to say is, Ketchup, is that you are one of the elite.

We could pick out yummy recipes together.

I’ll be honest with you, it started out as an innocent crush. Growing up, I would casually put you on fish sticks and chicken nuggets. Even now, when the idea of fish sticks pretty much makes me want to hurl, I would probably eat them if there was enough of you smothered on them. I would probably eat anything with enough of you smothered on it. Maybe not snails or poop though. I have to draw the line somewhere.

I could teach you how to dance...

I know part of the appeal may come from the fact that my grandparents never really approved. On Thanksgiving, my cousins and I would have to hide you under the dinner table because they thought it was innapropriate to eat you at the table. I still have to do the same whenever I go out to eat steak dinners, apparantly its even rude to ask for you. But I do every time.

NOM NOM NOM

I’m pretty poor, Ketchup, but  no matter how poor I get- I cannot go without you. I always buy the big bottle, though I’ll take you whatever way I can get you. I especially love the Whataburger **fancy ketchup. If it ever came down to it, I might be willing to hold up a Whataburger to get a hold of you.

ODE TO KETCHUP

I put you on chicken, I put you on beans.

I put you on eggs, I put you on greens.

 I put you on potatoes-fried, mashed and baked,

I put you on sandwiches and on  yummy crab cakes.

 I put you on carrots, I put you on rice-

I bet if I put you on cookies it would even taste nice.

Whether it’s Heinz 57,  Hunts or store-brand

I’ll always put you first, ahead of any man.

Or on my man? That might be fun too…

But even if I did, I’d only be thinking of you.

I could probably go on here forever, but there are some things I want to save for the bedroom kitchen.  I kid. Although, you have may heard that on a recent trip to Uncle Julio’s I told my tamale that I would have sex with it if it had ketchup on it, but I want to take this slow. That’s how much I like you.

That being said, I really hope you’ll get back to me so we can “catch up.”

hahaha

I’m sure you get that all the time. I really do hope you know I’m being genuine and  I’m not sort of tomatHOE.

Ok I’ll stop.

I love you,

CarissaJaded (your biggest fan)

P.S.

I know this might be a little weird for you, but I also love cheese and tabasco sauce so I was thinking  that maybe one of these days… nevermind.

**If you do not know about Whataburger fancy ketchup please send me your address and I will send you one. I’m serious. In fact I’ll do a giveaway. Yeah…. comment here and one of you will get a fancy ketchup in the mail.

**I’m serious about the ketchup, but there will be an ACTUAL giveaway later this week. It’s supercool and I’m really excited about it so stay tuned.