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!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway, it really got me to start thinking once again about my own blog, and whether or not I really feel comfortable sharing my thoughts with everyone that I know in “real life.”

Although there are some days that I really wish I had a private blog that I could spill all of my secrets to, I think that I am pretty happy being able to share my most of my secrets to anyone who cares to read.  In fact, it does feel pretty damn good to just put most of that shit out there. I’ve said it before, but sometimes it sucks that I have no idea who knows what about me, but for the most part… you’re eventually gonna find these things out, so I might as well tell you off the bat, right? I have a constant case of word-vom anyway, and within five minutes of being in my company I’m likely to share everything I write here anyways. I can sometimes be a freak, and if you’re gonna judge me- you might as well do it soon.

In fact, sometimes I wish that everyone I knew kept a blog.

It got me thinking about all the people that I have met, that I wished that I could have instantly known everything about them…

For example.

Nearly a year ago,  a friend and I were out for a night of karaoke when I spotted an attractive gentlemen at a booth across the way.

I sat talking to my friend about nonsense, all the while, making crazy eye contact and “bedroom eyes” with said gentleman as he held his own conversation with his own friends (a boy and a girl) at his own booth, that just happened to be in perfect view from my own.

After a while, the “gentleman” (lets call him Corey, because that was his name) came over to my booth and asked if he could sit down.

“Of course,” I said.

We got to talking, and I immediately started really liking this fellow. He was extremely personable and we had a lot in common. (meaning that he too, knew all the words to Meatloaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light.)

Eventually, the girl from his booth came over and introduced herself as Jenny. Corey explained that they had been best friends since high school. She seemed nice enough, though a little on the edge- and said that they were about to leave but that my friend and I should accompany them to another karaoke bar nearby. My friend and I didn’t really have anything better to do, (and I practically got on my knees and begged her) so we agreed to go.

We do, and the night starts to turn into a damn romantic comedy. Corey and I sing several songs together, and share  a few kisses at our table not caring that his friends are watching. Eventually, the bar is closing and we reluctantly said our goodbyes.

After we left, Corey and I continue a heated text conversation, and I was down right smitten.

The next morning I woke my friend up and made her listen to all of the details of my late night conversation with Corey, prompting my questions…

“Do you think he’ll call??” “What do you think he meant when he said he doesn’t always know when his free time will come about.” “Did you think that girl was a bit creepy?”

I swear, if I had known his last name, I would have googled that shit.

Corey did call. We talked for a few days, and I thought he seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

Eventually, the conversation came around to my living situation…

Me: “Yeah, I basically live with a bunch of people. Some of them are gay… It’s like a constant party…”

Corey: “Well… my living situation is way more unique than yours…”

Really? Ohholyshitthisisfuckingsarcasticallyawesome.

I prepared myself for him to tell me that he lived with his parents, both sets of grandparents and his 12 cats.

Nope.

Corey: “Yeah… I live with my wife and our child…”

OPEN MOUTH GUFFAW

Corey: “Soooo… I probably should have told you earlier… you actually met my wife. She was the girl…. at the bar with me… I guess we’re in what you would call…  an open relationship .. BUT I reallllly like you. And she did to… and I wanna hang out!!!”

Me:  “You’re wife… being the girl who pulled you away from me as we were leaving the bar???”

Fucking swingers.

If that’s you’re style, more power to you…  I’m not one to judge. But I quickly came to the conclusion that I don’t want to date a guy whose wife witnessed our first kiss.

I never saw him again, but I totally talked to the dude a few more times. Not because I still wanted something to happen, but because I had a million questions about their life style and how it worked. I’m curious! What can I say? (I eventually told this story on the radio while he was listening which swiftly ended our interview-like relationship.)

If he would have had an open blog, I’m sure I could have found out all the answers by myself without wasting several weeks of his (and my own) time, and could have simply read about all the details on my own.

And this is why I have come to the conclusion that keeping an open blog is a good thing, and everyone else should too.

So if you have a freak-flag, wear it proudly… some people may be into that shiz.

And also, if you are a swinger/have more than 1 spouse/have 18 children/are a midget/have decided to change you skin color (I’m talking to you Sammy Sosa)/have appeared on the reality show “Obsessed” or in one of the more interesting episodes of “Intervention”/are in a cult/ have 2 sets of genitals/have an addiction to something outlandish… you should definitely start a blog and send me the link, pronto. I want to read all about your sordid lives.

I think not, my friend. But I’m not here to complain. All is good in the life of me. Really great actually. I cannot stop smiling.

WHAT? No complaints about my roommates? No bitching about having nothing to wear? No rants about how I wore my thong the wrong way for 8 hours???

I know? I must be sippin on some sizzurp crazy juice.

Not only is it pay-day Friday and I have a really fun weekend ahead of me, but Goshdarnit! I just found out some people like me!!

I got two awards this week and I’m so frickin excited!

The first is the Kreativ Blogger award from Amber over at  Musings of Amber Murphy! Thank you friend! If you don’t currently frequent her blog, you must check it! She’s funny, extremely genuine, writes way better poetry than I ever could, (she writes way better than I do, period) and most importantly…she once wrote a letter to Tiffany Amber-Theissen.

Candice from That’s Tangly passed this to me a few weeks ago so I’m gonna skip the meme part of it and just pass it on! If you’re up to it, pass it on to 3 other blogs and reveal 7 things about yourself that you haven’t yet shared with the world.

I”d like to pass this on to:

Andhari from Insomniac Lolita… This girl is an uber talented musician, leads a very interesting life, and posts really awesome pictures of hotties with no shirts!

HillbillyDuhn from Hillbilly Duhn’s Times and Tribulations… Because this girl never fails to crack my shit up. Oh, and also she was brave enough to post the best TMI I have ever read. Ever.

Ryan from 365 Days of People… For being the most hilarious hater on the internet. Seriously, there is rarely a time when he posts something that I don’t agree with. I just hope this award doesn’t prompt a “people who give out gay-ass blog awards” post. Or do it. I’ll laugh.

The second award is the Honest Scrap Award bestowed to me from That Kind of Girl from Not that Kind of Girl. Oh my gosh people. I cannot express in words how much I love this girl and am honored that she reads! She is frickin hilarious, inspiring, (my friends and I now play a NTKOG game where we dare ourselves to do things we normally wouldn’t) and has huge fricking pair of boobs. And by boobs, I mean girl balls. I also blame her for infiltrating “dude” back into my daily vocabulary.

For this award, I’m supposed to tell you 10 super personal things that no one else knows. NTKOG decided to put her own spin on it and reveal 10 things that she has learned about herself in the last 10 days. I’m going to attempt a mix of the 2.

Five things you don’t know about me (unless your a stalker):

1. I’m a huge freak. Meaning? I have a dimple thingy at the top of my butt crack. It’s not as weird as it sounds…  It’s like a little hole that doesn’t go anywhere… I’ve met one other person that has one. Let me know if you do too. We can start a club or something.

2. I had an eating disorder in my early twenties. I am really happy that I have been able to lose weight the right way this time, but sometimes it scares me when I get a little obsessive about it. I know I wouldn’t ever go down that path again, and it feels really good to get this out there- but still… I think about that place that I once was in, and it is terrifying.

3. I am horrible with anything that has to do with numbers. I still have to look on facebook to find out my best friend’s birthdays. The only phone number I have memorized is my parent’s. I use my fingers to do multiplication.

4. My bellybutton hole smells, at least to me. I clean it, but I think it still has a funk.

5. I may or may not have just spent the last 45 minutes trying to give myself a Brazilian wax. I may or may not have learned that this is something that you should not attempt at home. (this probably should have gone in the next list.)

Five things I learned in the last 10 days:

1. I really really really hate the time change. Mostly because I forgot how difficult of a time I have driving at night.

2. I am kind of a loser. There are some days when I have the opportunity to go out and be around people, but I would rather sit at home and watch t.v.

3. I need to learn to stop hiding behind my weight. I got so used to using my weight as my excuse not to do things… not to put myself out there dating wise, not to try new things, not to have confidence. I  I still find myself making these excuses.

4. I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. I have had several discussions with my friends about this lately, and it just fucks with my head even more. I have been consciously putting it out of my mind for the last 4 years, and it’s time to deal.

5. I shouldn’t do things (like go stair surfing) when I don’t have health insurance.

Alllllrighty then. If that wasn’t personal, I don’t know what is. Now I get to pass this on to 10 honest bloggers that I love! Check em out if you haven’t already!

1. Alicia from It Aint easy being Cheesy… I recently started following her and she is hill-arious! Plus she posts amazing pictures and we share a common bond of having obsessions with NSYNC.

2. Phronk …  A fellow film lover who also doesn’t  fart. And I don’t love farts so I kind of love him. Plus he has this other badass site Putting Weird Things in Coffee, where he does just that. I may have read the whole thing.

3. M from Only one Way Down… She’s funny, honest, and when she gets on a rant – I kind of just want to raise my fist and yell “oh hells yeah!” Plus she’s a fellow Dallasite, and it’s good to know there are other good people from the area.

4. Candice from That’s Tangly… I have mad love for this girl! Seriously, if I don’t get to party with her before I die, it will be a major loss on my behalf. Plus she is doing great things with her life right now.. CHECK IT OUT!

5. Kathryn from From The Inside… Out… I didn’t know mom’s could be this funny.  Or that I could relate to one so much. Funny. ass. shiz.

6. Matt from A Crown of Thistles… By far the smartest/funniest/best storyteller/knows freaking latin-est person that I have met on the internets. I literally leave his site with my mouth hung open in awe. And not in the dirty way.

7. F.B. From The Change I Wish to See… I recently started following this guy, and I have gone back to read his entire history. And I laughed a lot. Plus he is an amazing writer, and did I mention he loves It’s Always Sunny??

8. One Step to Recovery… Love this girl! I can almost always relate, and she tells it like it is. She just had surgery yesterday and girl, I hope you are feeling better soon!

9. Kirsten from Belly Shirts…. I laugh my ass off at her daily, and because she single handedly started the swine flu epidemic.

10. Lilu at Liveitluvit… I couldn’t leave her out! I probably wouldn’t have found any of you good people if it weren’t for her site, and I FUCKING love the TMIs.

I have seriously come across so many blogs that I love in the last couple months. I love you all!

Moving on to the Fuck my Life portion. This is why I haven’t been able to walk this entire week… (NEVER STAIR SURF UNLESS YOU WANT TO FEEL MAJOR PAIN!!!)

I am that blur of brown hair, BTW.

F.M.L.

First off, I have a confession. I totally cheated on my “no drinking for almost a week” pact with myself. I have no excuse, except for I really suck at life. If it makes up for anything, it was only a few beers, and I still didn’t get any sleep. But i did have a good night.

Moving on…

Every month or so I like to take a looksie at the search terms people have used to find my page. I really hate for people to end up on my site looking for some specific information, only to leave dissatisfied and empty handed. Therefore, I will do my best share with you my knowledge about some of the more popular search terms used to get here.

If you came here by way of one of these terms, you’re welcome!

“hairy arse removal pads”

You’re not being very specific, but I am guessing that you are searching for ways to remove the hair from your “arse,” and not remove the hairy”arse” altogether (although I’m sure I can find someone for this as well.) I am no expert on arse hair, but I do have my experience (as you know) with hair on other parts of the body. If your arse hair is especially thick, I’m thinking you should stick with old fashioned shaving. If it is more sparce, you could try burning the hairs (in an open, well ventilated area) just be careful not to pass gas. You could also try plucking them, but you may need ass-istance, and that may be hard to find.

“carissa blog dallas”

There is a chance you actually found what you were looking for. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

“picture hand with red dot due to liver”

Why? Why would you do that to me?  You freakin bastard. I am already really paranoid about a little red dot on my arm and my liver. So sorry, won’t find any information on this here. I try not to think about it, maybe you should do the same. Or try out web MD. But if it makes you feel any better, my doctor said it’s nothing to worry about. But then again, I don’t trust that guy. He once falsely told me I needed gallbladder removal.

“free pant pee poo movies”

I”m not so sure how you ended up here on this one. I can’t provide you with what you are looking for, especially for free, but you may want to google a little word called “scat.” (thank you gay friends)

“do you know that demented person?”

I’ve been called crazy, eccentric, nutty, unhinged, and cuckoo… but never demented so I know that you came here by mistake. Perhaps you were looking for him,  or him, or  her….

“how to make a pair of saggy boobs for haloween costume” (this was how it was spelled)

This was a popular one. There were also a few variations of this search including “home-made saggy boobs” Making Golden Girl boob sag” and “homemade booby.” I am no expert here, but I do have an idea. I say take a pair of pantie hose and cut them off around the calf. Stuff them with sand bags then sew the open end to your shirt at chest level. It doubt it will work, which is why for MY costume, I simply purchased a pair of saggy boobs on the internet. Good luck!

“a dying bird on the road bit my feet”

How very unfortunate for you! First off, you can’t be surprised that a dying bird bit your foot if you were stupid enough to stand in biting distance. You must have been nearly on top of that bird. It’s not like that bird has arms to reach out and pull your foot to it’s mouth. And what did you expect? The poor thing was dying and needed to take it’s anger out on someone!

And yes, you probably have rabies.

“diarrhea every time i urinate”

First off, congrats on your superb ability to spell diarrhea, I never get that right! Second, so sorry to hear about your problem. I wish I could say I haven’t been there. I bet it burns. I’m no doctor, but I would say to decrease the burning sensation, try sitting on a cool washrag or an ice cube. Otherwise, quit drinking so much beer, try to eat some more veggies, and maybe try to squeeze to hold it in.

“effects of swallowing a spoonful of cinnamon”

It’s a good thing you asked before you tried. While this may seem like a fun party trick, I can tell you first hand- there is nothing fun or funny about it. When you first swallow a heaping spoon full, you think you’re going to be able to handle it. After the first little bit goes down, you start to wheeze a little, and small particles of cinnamon start to float around in your trachea. Then you will undoubtedly try to take a sip of water because you are nearly choking to death, which only solidifies the cinnamon into a mush in your throat. At this point, your best bet is to start trying to push it out the way it came in.

“carissa mustache facebook”

There is only one picture that I can think of that you may be referring to:

Unless of course you zoom in, then any of my pictures may apply.

“holy shit its james franco fuck me sideways”

I’m not sure why this brought you here, but I agree full heartily. In fact, I’ll expand on sideways, and go ahead and include any missionary, doggie, fuck! I’ll take any position in the book. I wish I could share him with you… but I can’t let you leave here empty handed, so…

Image by danzden via Flickr

“my pee hole dropped to my vagina”

If this did in fact happen, then bravo to you my friend. Ohhhh… I wouldn’t be too proud or go around telling potential boyfriends or anything (because you are a freak.) But dude! Go turn yourself in for medical research! You could probably make loads of money. And when you do, don’t forget who told you this golden advice.

“pooping”

This is a very broad subject. I think I’m just going to have to refer you to my friend, Dr John Dorian for this one.

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

Actually I should rephrase that- I was reminded, once again why I hate drinking and then having to use the restroom at public events.

Port o potties are the devil.

No really.

Can you think of a more disgusting  area to experience a few seconds worth of having nothing between your special parts and bacteria-filled air?

In case it has been a while for you, or you live in a part of the world where port o potties garner enough respect for people not to take advantage- I’ll go into a little more detail about what the state of the port o potties looked like outside of the football game.

To begin with, people seem to lose all inhibitions when they are in line for a port o potty. I think as a rule people lose about 4 levels of class when they are waiting in line for a bathroom after drinking- but for a port o potty they automatically drop to  about a level 8…1 being the classiest, 10 being a contestant on Jerry Springer.

For  example, there was a very drunk girl behind us who was continuously yelling at people to hurry up.

“I’m 34 years old people! 34!! I can’t hold it like the rest of you.. Hurry UP! Respect your elders!!”

At one point, after vehemently criticizing my friend for smoking menthol cigarettes, she grabbed the cigarette from my friend’s hand and started smoking it. And she had a very large something gross on her lip. Ewww.

The line was never shorter than a twenty minute wait. After my fourth beer or so, I was pretty much just drinking one beer, then going to wait in line so I wouldn’t have to do the “pee dance,” or worse- do the “peed in my pants dance.” The port o potties were on a slant so that the corners of the stall were at least 5 empty beer cans deep. Of course you cannot flush a port o potty (unless there is a secret button that I don’t know about??) so the stench was just awful. After only a few hours, there wasn’t any toilet paper to speak of, so the smarter people were taking paper towels in with them, and presumably just tossing them onto the floor. There was also no sink, so I couldn’t look at a person without imaging a layer of gunk on their hands.

As bad as this sounds, the worst part of the situation was the layer of people’s business that was all over the floor… and on the seat.

Even early in the day, it was apparent that people were unaware of where their pee was going, but once it got dark, it became a bajillion times worse.

This is a particularly sensitive subject for me, as I will admit that I have had my own problems in this particular aspect of using a port o potty.

I’m not  proud of this moment, but I have shared way worse information about myself, so what the hell.

It was a few years ago at the local St. Patrick Days parade. I was in a very long line, and had been waiting for close to twenty minutes. The urge was really starting to get to me and I was getting into that crazy state of mind where I was no longer thinking about what I was saying or doing. The only thing that was going on in my brain were visions of waterfalls and swimming pools, and toilets. Shiny clean white toilets with candles lining the sink nearby.

As I got closer to the front of the line, I noticed that one port o potty had a slight river flowing out from the small opening at the bottom. After a few seconds of watching it flow, I started tapping nearby strangers shoulders and goofily pointing to the port o potty that was leaking. I was quite tipsy at this point and probably started yelling phrases like “That girl is peeing the Amazon and missing toilet!!” I was partially jealous at the amount of liquid that this girl was emitting from her body when I wanted nothing more than to have my turn, but the more abrasive part of myself was content with laughing loudly at the fact that she had so obviously miscalculated her squat.

As she exited the bathroom, the crowd started laughing and attempted to give the girl high-fives,  but she ran away in what I can only imagine, was a drunken shame.

Well you know what they say, karma’s a bitch.

When I finally got my turn, I went into the stall and had to deal with the difficulties of being a girl in a bathroom where sitting down would be an eternal sin. By this point I had to go very very badly… Add in the logistics of squatting in a very enclosed space where there is nothing to hold on to… and the odds are against you.

I guess I must have used a little too much power and simultaneously pulled  my shirt down a little too far as I put my hands on my knees, because what happened in that little box of filth was enough to send anyone into a fit of tears.

Yes, it’s true.

I somehow peed my shirt. The entire bottom half of my shirt was wet, and I had no sink in which to play it off as water. And by making myself the center of attention by making fun of the river pee-er, there was no way I could walk away unnoticed.

So you can see why, after my port o potty pee fail, I really try to avoid them at all costs… for more reasons than one.

Excuse me while I go hang my head in shame.

We need to have some words.

Before you think that this is all going to be bad, I did have a lot of fun. I especially enjoyed petting the llamas and watching those baby piglets drink from the mama pig. Who knew pig-nipples could be so big?

i heart llamas

Additionally, I really actually enjoyed the diving pirates show. So much that I think I may learn how to dive so that I can join them. Oh sure, it was a little cheezy and I’m a little out of their goal age demographic… but I have a love affair with pirate jokes and this made me very happy.

RRRRRR you serious?

But I do have a few bones to pick with you…  First, I left feeling a little like you ass-raped me a little bit, or at least took advantage of the fact that this was my first time.

I knew you weren’t cheap… but 10 tickets for a tiny beer? Over twenty dollars to ride the Ferris Wheel? And with so many yummy treats with each turn of my head, how do you expect me to resist eating a turkey leg, roasted corn, popcorn, and a tornado tator? You can expect me to forward you a few health bills, as I am positive my stomach will never be the same.

And also, you really should have a warning on a few of your rides that says “Not meant for persons over the age of 26,” because I feel a little bit like my head is going to fall off of my neck I meant it when I yelled “I’m never going to ride a ride again,” and also when I said “I’m too old, too old for this you mother fucker- stop the ride.” And guess what? Nobody stopped the freaking ride.

Alas, even though I am still a little mad at you- I was thankful for all the good people watching that you provided. . I think I saw several people who  (judging on appearances) spend their entire years salary on the fair.

Until next year,

Going to the gym 4 hours a day for the next 3 weeks.

_________________________________________________________________________

Guy who sold me the John Lennon Necklace at the fair,

I don’t care what my friends say- there is something very attractive about your long bushy beard. My friends all said that they think it would be smelly, but i tend to disagree. I  could also smell that patchouli oil even from the other side of the counter, and I love it!
I have spent my morning researching different images that I want to order on necklaces from you. If only I can find your business card.

My necklace was definitely one of the better parts of the day, as was your beard.

My new favorite necklace.

I wonder if I could squeeze in a trip to Denver. Maybe I’ll see you at your next show!

Sincerely,

Not a stalker

_________________________________________________________________________

To all other patrons of the state fair,

If you went into the indoor arts section and happened to purchase a flattened glass necklace from a man with a very long beard, would you kindly check and see if you picked up a business card? And then just forward me that email address.

Thanks so much,

Not desperate

_________________________________________________________________________

Dear zombie shirt boy,

I really did enjoy talking to you the other night but I know I acted a little weird the following day. I feel I should explain. I don’t really remember the last part of our conversation and I erased my drunk text messages because I don’t like to feel shame…  but in the event that you got a message from me that said “I am already in love you” 3 hours after meeting me- please either assume that

A. Some stranger broke into my house wearing a banana suit, ate a block of cheese, held me up with a hack saw and then stole my phone and must have texted you himself.

or

B. I was just joking! I’m funny like that!

I’m also sorry if I made my friends called you… I’m sure that was a little awkward.

I’m not usually crazy and I’ll leave it at that because in my experience the people who have to say over and over again that they are not crazy, are usually the craziest.. and I am definitely not crazy.

I understand if you never want to talk to me again but it was very nice meeting you and I think your super cool.

I love you,

I like your facebook picture,

Sleepless in Dallas,

I‘m available every night this week,

Can we at least be friends?,

Not a desperate crazy stalker

___________________________________________________________________________

My dearest kidneys,

I’m sorry. Very sorry.

Love,

NEVER DRINKING AGAIN

___________________________________________________________________________

To several of my Facebook friends who I saw at homecoming,

Sure I know it has been a while, and I probably look a little different than you remember me… But I remember having several conversations with you back in college. I even knew some of you well enough that I considered you a real life friend.

Regardless, I was super offended at how many of you I waved at, with no response. I mean, even if you don’t recognize me- DO YOU NOT WAVE BACK AT STRANGERS? How rude can you be!? I try to smile at all the strangers that pass by, and even more at the ones who are at my college homecoming because there is a chance I know them.

Let me refresh your memory. I’m in the one in the middle. You saw me this weekend. You looked me in the eye, you asshole.

Maybe I don’t have much of a life, but even though we haven’t seen each other for a while, I try to keep up with your life. I look at your pictures from Vegas and your new baby just took his first steps, congrats!! I know every time you have been drinking because facebook friend, you tell me and I listen.

Well I, for one, am not going to stand for this abuse. If you don’t even look at my pictures enough to recognize me- then why are we “friends?”

So just a heads up, don’t be surprised if you get deleted from my friend list. Not that you’ll even notice, but still.

Your not aging as gracefully as I would have thought,

Needs everyone to love me.