I obsess, that’s just my nature.

Like my love for John Cusack… I’m sure you, internet, are even sick of hearing about it at this point. But still I trudge on and I will announce my love for all the world to hear once again…

I LOVE YOU JOHN CUSACK.

There I feel better. But not amazing.

I LOVE YOU JOHN CUSACK AND I WILL HAVE YOUR BABIES AND TICKLE YOUR ARMS EVERY NIGHT.

Now I’m rocking.

I take things too far in other ways too.

Despite the fact that I love performing comedy, I’ve never been particularly good at telling jokes, especially ones that other people wrote. However, I had  a a favorite joke when I was young, and I told it all the time.

There was once a young boy, and when he turned 3- his dad asked what he wanted for his birthday.

He told his dad he wanted 2 ping pong balls. One red and one blue.

The next year on his 4th birthday, his dad asked what he wanted for his birthday…

He told his dad he wanted 4 ping pong balls, 2 purple and 2 blue.

On his fourth birthday he told his dad he wanted 8 ping pong balls. 1 pink, 2 red, 2 orange, and 3 turquoise.

ect, ect, ect..

Then his dad dies..

Then he has a son of his own, and his son says “Dad what do you want for your Birthday?”

And he says, “Son, one day I will explain this all to you, but for my 30th Birthday – I want 37 ping pong balls. 30 magenta, 2 brown, and 5 neon green.

ect, ect, ect…

4 hours later..

The dad is on his death bed and his son asks for his final request, he says “onnnneeeee whittteee ping pong balllllll.”

The son asks his dad what was up with all the ping pong balls all these years… “Well son, it was because… becccaauussseeee……”

And then he dies.

You don’t have to tell me… I know! That was the worst joke ever. And if I told it the way I used to, it would take about 3 hours to read…. but still it made me laugh to see other’s go through so much suffering at my expense.

I love taking a joke too far, that’s all there is to it. A few years ago, my best friend almost befriended me because I made up a pointing game. I would think of any hand movement that inadvertently pointed to her, and she just about lost it. It went on for months. It was HILARIOUS to me. Not so much to her.

Well, it seems the world is finally getting back at me.

Every night for the last few weeks my roommate has filled up the Brita with water.

Every night I semi-watch her do so, yet I don’t take it in.

Every night within 15 seconds of her filling the Brita up with water, I pour myself a glass of water.

And every night the lid falls off and water spills all over the floor.

I suspect she thinks I’m doing it on purpose at this point. So not the case.

I’m not sure if my life has become a mockery of one of my passions, or what… but I do feel like it has become a mockery of one of my most favorite sketches EVER. (Mr. Show)

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Yesterday was my mommy’s birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My mom, my sis and I: circa 1987

Here are just a few of my favorite memories:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you!

Carissa

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

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Have a great weekend!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only what we did was so much better.

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

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

And then it was born.

“The Bug Game.”

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

Examples: “And I will always bug you.”

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

“I don’t wanna lose your bug tonight”

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

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

“I just called, to say… I bug you”

“You’ve lost that Bugging feeling..”

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

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

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

I think.

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

The first pet that I (or technically my parents) had when I was a child was a Mutt named Mudd. I really don’t remember Mudd very well, but I have heard the story countless times of how Mudd bit me and they had to give her away. I never really held the fact that she bit me against her. The bone (haha) I had to pick with her is the fact that my “porn name” (first pet+childhood street’s name) was horrible, partly due to the fact that her name was “Mudd.”

Mudd Oakview, to be exact. Now that’s not very porny now is it?

But I digress. After Mudd, we had a Brittany Spaniel named Copper, who I loved dearly. She had a penchant for escaping our backyard and got ran over when I was still in Elementary school, and I was devastated.

After Copper passed away, my parents got another Brittany named Cedar, and I got a couple of my very own  mice- Hershey and Snowflake. It was around this time that I began to spend many of my afternoons hanging out at the neighborhood pet store- chatting with the owner and gazing into cages as snakes swallowed mice whole and Guinea Pigs hid in giant plastic tubes. My best friend and I even formed our very own “Animal Club,” where we would read books about animals and discuss our favorite species. I know what your thinking. And yes, I have always been this cool.

My pet “collection” began to grow at a very rapid pace. We got a Red Spectacled Amazon Parrot, who loved Cheetos but was bald because another bird plucked all of his feathers out. We got an iguana named Spike, who enjoyed whipping his tail at me if I tried to hold him. We had a box turtle (Strawberry Shortcake) who either got ran over in my backyard or eaten by my dog,  I can’t remember. We had an evil Sugar Glider named Sprite who would make this awful hissing sound every time I tried to get him out of his cage, and then he would proceed to fly on top of the curtain or to some other surface that I couldn’t reach where he would sit for days. On top of that, we had several frogs (I don’t remember their names,) a few other lizards, a couple parakeets (Blanco and Shreck,) a cockatiel, several hamsters that were all named Gizmo, a few fish tanks of fish both bought and caught with a sane at the farm.  Eventually the 2 little mice  procreated and so on, until we had at least 30. Needless to say, there were times when my room was quite smelly.

With each new addition, I would have a 3 month or so obsession over my new pet, until I set my sights on a new species and my attention would slowly wane.It wasn’t that I loved the pets any less, I just have always had a short attention span and I like to spread my love over a variety of different animals.

By the time I left for college, all of my pets with the exception of my sister’s beloved toy poodle with an under bite, BB, had either been given away, had died, or had been let go at my farm. I still remember the day that I looked around my room and noticed that my 30 mice and the many cages with plastic tubes connecting them were missing. I started crying and asked my dad what happened to them. He told me they had all died… which I believed for a few days until my sister told me that he had let them go at the farm. ***The same devastating thing happened with the rat that my parent’s inherited from me when I moved into a house with a bunch of cats, just a few months ago.

The first few years of college I was content with not owning an animal of my own. Most of my attention was spent on my new friends and drinking copious amounts of alcohol. There was no way I would have been able to remember to clean out a hamster cage or coddle a bird.

One day a friend of mine decided that she wanted a dog and recruited me to go with her to the local humane society to help her pick one out. A few of us crowded into her Jeep and got ready to talk her out of anything too crazy. It was my first time in a pound in many years, and I had no idea that it would hurt so bad to see so many dogs who needed homes. We walked down the caged hallways and I stopped at each cage to stick my fingers through and pet each puppy dog on the nose as I read to see how much time they had left before they would be put down.

This was when she was skinny.

I still remember the yelping. It was high pitched and painful. I looked around to see what kind of animal could be capable of making such a sound. I made my way down the row until I found her.

She was up on her short hind legs, and she was shaking… probably from the pain that her own screech caused her ears. She was skinny, and had a head that was much too large for her body. My friends all crowded around holding their ears, proclaiming that “that” was the ugliest dog they had ever seen.

As soon as we caught eyes I knew. It was an instant connection. I knew with certainty that there was no one else in the world who would want such a creature.

I asked permission to have a few moments with the Franken-puppy. The lady who worked at the pound seemed a little surprised, but she obliged. She told me that she was most likely a mix of Pit Bull and Dachshund, with perhaps a bit of Shar-pei. The weird little dog shook her butt violently as the lady put her on a leash and led her to the waiting area. After only a few minutes of holding the dog in my lap, I had made my decision. I told the lady that I needed to run out to my car to get my check book (yes check book) so that I could pay the $10.00 for the puppy. (What a bargain!!!)

As soon as I opened the door to go out to the parking lot, my new dog bolted and took off in a sprint across the field nearby. I took off after her, and yelled the first thing that came to mind: “STELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAA.”

Stella smiling with my sis

And so my new Picasso puppy had a name.

The first few months with Stella were a disaster. I kept her a secret from my parents while I attempted to potty train her and keep her from eating too many containers of roach poison. Stella ate everything and anything plastic, much like her momma. (What? I like chewing on pens!) She wet the floor every five minutes, and wouldn’t stop with the screech-bark. We had a couple close-calls with a razor and a few dozen Christmas ornaments, and I spent at least 30 minutes everyday chasing her around the neighborhood.

Eventually, as Stella and I grew closer and my patience grew stronger, she started learning how to behave- and I learned how to deal with her. We grew inseparable. She was literally my best friend.

My Stella bear and I on Christmas

A couple years ago I moved into a place where I couldn’t bring a dog. I had to take her back to my parent’s house for the time-being. I know, you are probably all thinking I’m a horrible Dog-Mom, but I swear to you this isn’t the case. I miss my puppy dog every day. More than getting home-sick, I get Stella-sick.

Lately, more so than ever. I had been contemplating bringing her to live with me when I move in a couple weeks, but she has spent the last few months out at the farm with my dad and her new best friend Penny, and now I think she really loves being a farm dog. Plus I think my dad really needs her right now.

My sister took this pic of my brave farm dog scaring off a cow!

I’m starting to have that “need-to-have-a-pet-itch” again, but now I’m worried that there are no other animals that will fulfill that void besides my Stella-bear. Who else could make me smile with their short little legs? Their Danny Devito body? Their dramatic personality!? (Stella cries like a baby when she gets a sticker in her foot, but I don’t blame her!)

What should I do??? Maybe get a Ferritt? A guinea pig?? Another pound puppy?

***SOBBB***

I  miss STELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

I think my dad and I are going to have to work out some sort of joint-custody arrangement.

Really my whole point is, there is a reason the Westminster dog show isn’t open to mixed-breeds… and that’s because Princess Stella Rosita Devito Tootsie Bertha Brown Jr. would win every year.

My boyfriend John Cusack would say the same, I’m sure.

Writing out the title of this post just brought me back to those uber-dork days. Just thought I’d share that.

My dad’s family has a really amazing farm out near Crawford, TX. My dad recently started staying out there, and I have to tell ya’ll, despite the fact that there is no heat, there is a lot of poison ivy, and there is always the possibility of being eaten by wild hogs-I’m a little bit jealous.

The place is absolutely beautiful and some of my most favorite memories happened out there. There is a lot of land, your typical barn house,  and a little white house that is surrounded by a picket fence… and a creek called “Hog Creek” runs through the land and as a dam and everything. It’s perfect.

Da house

Hog Creek

My sweet grandparent's in front of my favorite tree in the world.

A Cow.

When I was young, my family would spend the weekends out there and my days would be spent catching trees fish, wading in the creek or a metal tub, or walking the grounds playing pretend or trying to get the horses to eat grass out of my hand. Even now my family goes out there quite often to shoot guns and fish.

If you had any doubt I was a true Texan, I hope I cleared that up.

My family decided long ago, that if there were ever any nuclear wars or zombie attacks, the farm would be our meeting place. Besides being near the likes of George W…. I do think that it is the ideal place for an emergency.

I always thought it would be kinda fun to have to live out there on nothing but wild animals and beer.

I think I could survive. I’m sure it would be a little tough, but I could handle it. I mean… I wouldn’t even have to shower very often, or maybe ever. How awesome would that be? I’ve even already learned some very important rules about living off the land. Like a few years ago, my friend LA decided we would paint our faces with the juice that comes out of the pretty fruits that grow on cacti. Not a good idea. Those little fruits have many invisible, yet painful tiny little stickers that will stay in your skin for weeks.

ANNNND I won’t try that again.

But moreover, I yesterday as I was perusing facebook all day for a few moments in my spare time at work- I remembered the main reason that I could never live out at the farm. You see, I saw my dad’s newest facebook profile picture….

Someone in my family tree

Yes. My father decided to change his profile pic. to be a picture of one of my ancestors. I really feel bad not knowing who he was exactly as I’m sure I’ve been told many a time, but regardless-we are related.

Harmless enough, right?

WRONG.

You see, when I was a kid I have always had a very vivid imagination. When I was a child I was scared of monsters under my bed, monsters in the toilet, monsters in the closet, zombie pets, moving dolls, spiders, aliens, the Jabberwalkie from Alice in Wonderland… and a wall in my farmhouse that has pictures of several of my ancestors hanging on it. This being one of them.

I know, I know. They’re just pictures of people whom I share my blood with, but ya’ll don’t understand the fear that their faces put it in my heart. Whenever I walked around the house , especially at night- I could feel their presence. Their eyes follow you around the room. And they all look so sinister. I guess I was afraid that they would crawl right out of those photos and beat me with a wooden paddle or something.

I got my dad to take pics of the others and send them to me. They aren’t the best quality, but you get the picture. hehehe, no pun intended.

OK so this one is a little handsome....

I bet she would wash my mouth out with soap.

This is my favorite. Clearly we are related.

Ok so they aren’t as scary here on this page. But I’m telling you people, in the house, at night… It’s a whole different story!!!!

I wonder what John Cusack’s ancestors look like. Since I am John Cusack’s girlfriend and all.

And don’t forget to ask me questions (in the comments, email, or tweet me bitches!!!) Anything on any topic… and I will answer! Or make something up. I will start answering them next week. Thanks for those who have already submitted some!

Have a humpalicious day!

I hope the year has been good to you. At least most of you. There are a few of you that I hope got audited or something similarly non-life threatening but still a pain in the ass.

I had such an exciting year in 2009, I’m sure I’m not going to be able to fit it all in this newsletter, but since you’re all so curious as to what’s been going on in my ever so eventful life, I’m going to try.

Let’s see. Where to begin.

I started the New Year out last year in Galveston. It was a great time although I closely escaped head injury when I face-planted in the middle of a very nice hotel lobby in front of a wedding reception. Luckily, I came out of it with only a loss of pride and a black eye. We also shot each other with BB guns, which was quite a lot of fun, though not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

I continued working my low paying job, but  got to spend a lot of time reading about movies and preparing for the 2009 Oscars, at which I was successful at seeing every nominated film. I bet none of you completed such a task.

Near the beginning of the year I had a serious scabies scare. I thought for a few weeks that there were tiny little organisms crawling around in my skin, and I spent many an hour trying to dig and burn them out. Turns out it was all in my brain… but still scary. Scabies (even just the mental kind) are a bitch to get rid of.

Around February I leaned against a door at the top of a flight of stairs, and once again narrowly escaped a massive head injury. I may not have escaped it, but I tell myself I’m fine.

Somewhere around March I decided I was tired of being single and I joined Match.com. While I was asked on several dates, I only met a bunch of losers who had such hobbies as “teaching their cats to use the toilet,” and “learning kling-on,” (which I actually thought was going to be kind of cool, notsomuch. )The most memorable date was when I took a guy to the comedy club that I perform at and ran into some people I hadn’t seen in a while. They proceeded to tell me in front of my date how I looked like I “had lost a whole person,” which I suppose was true, but was also embarrassing.

I quit that shit after a month.

Then I met this  guy at a karaoke bar who turned out to be a swinger.

I quit that shit after an hour.

I met a guy when put up a fake ad on Craigslist saying that I would build professional living room tents and treehouses for hire.

Never even called him back.

Probably my favorite spring night was the night LA and I went to see Joshua Radin and ended up taking the  band out after the show for a good time. The drummer was an excellent kisser,but I’m pretty sure he was on drugs.

There was some other shit too, but I don’t want to excite you too much.

So as you can see I’ve kept a really busy social life.

Hmmm… what else…

Around April I decided to watch the entire Godfather series in one weekend. I thought that was quite an accomplishment. And then the next weekend I watched Lonesome Dove, but I only made it about 2/3rds a way through the movie before I got bored.

Some time last spring my dad and sister let my pet rat out at my family farm because they got tired of taking care of it and thought it deserved to live in the wild… that kinda sucked hairy balls.

The summer is where things really got interesting. I spent most weekend days sitting out at my pool drinking beer and working on my tan. My roommates and I hosted a kick-ass Fourth of July Party which ended with me getting tasered (for fun, not by a cop.)

Hmmm..

In July I started a blog where I got the opportunity to update my friends daily with the exciting details of my life…

hmmmm…

ummm

ok! I know…

For Halloween my friend and I dressed up as “Ghouls Gone Wild” and I narrowly escaped another head injury when a stair skiing incident went awry.

annndddd…

I finally caught up on Dexter season 3 so now I can finally watch season 4… even though LA already told me the twist ending.

hmmmm…

Well, I guess that brings us up to date!

Oh yeah, and last night I backed out of the date with the hot Turkish dude last minute. I know, I know… I still may go out with him next week… He was just way too cheesy, and I think I need to save my dates for people with whom I have more in common with than a love of incense. Instead I stayed home in my pjs with the roomies and watched “All About Steve.”

So yes!! That concludes a year in the life of me. I am so blessed to have so many good friends to share this information with. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a Wonderful New Year!

Love Always,

Carissa Jaded

And for those of you curious about the tree necklace, you can purchase one here.

I’m one of those people (some of you know all too well) who is likely to break out into song and dance anywhere. It’s not calculated. As soon as I hear a song that I like, I can’t help it. I grab the nearest item to me to use as a microphone, and I let loose, honey.

I really do think that theater camp may have a big something to do with it.You put a kid on stage and tell her to sing,  then tell her it was good, (because every kid in theater camp gets a part)  and after so many times, she really starts to believe it.

Don’t worry, I’ve been set straight since then.  I’m a mediocre very bad singer…. (you can quit telling me now, I get the point!)

I cannot carry a tune. But that doesn’t make me love it any less. I have realized that no matter where you are, it’s all about performance. It’s the emotion you put into it. I truly believe this.

I know there are certain people who don’t appreciate my ability to entertain an audience wherever the setting may be.

My mom, for instance. If you asked her what her most embarrassing moment of her life was, she would probably go into detail about the time she took me to the fabric store. She was right in the middle of discussing comforter material with a group of older ladies, when she she heard me bust out at full volume  with “the only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man”  from across the store. She acted like she didn’t know me until we were safely back in the car when she scolded me and told me that there would be serious consequences if I ever did that to her again.

I now use public singing as a “friendship test” of sorts. If we’re going to be somewhere together in public, there is a good chance I will I start singing  and it would be really awesome if you would join in, or at least not act like you would rather be on fire than be in my presence. You may be embarrassed at first, but there is nothing more liberating than a group sing a long at a hole in the wall restaurant in the middle of nowhere. (Right? I’m talking to you friends who went to the river! The Journey sing-along in  Health camp? Hells yeah!)

I have made venues out of grocery stores, movie theaters, zoos, and gas stations. But I have found a new favorite.

Parks and trails.

Oh yes. Although they are somewhat lacking an audience, there is really nothing like belting out a song while going on a walk. I discovered it a few years ago when I didn’t have a job and had nothing better to do than to go on 6 mile walks in the middle of the day. For the most part, you’re on your own. You can have your ear buds in, and can listen to any song of your choice. The best part is, there is no noise restraint. Even I know not to exceed a certain volume when indoors.

Even more so, when your out in the wide open, you can take it a step further.

You dance.

Not just a normal dance. You have to just completely let the music take you over, and what happens feels glorious. It started out as something I would do to embarrass my mother when we were on walks together, but now I just can’t help it. I’m talking about no dance that you would do under normal circumstances. I wouldn’t even like to do this type of dance (if you can even call it that) in a one mile vicinity of a mirror. What happens to my body is something truly worse than even the Muppet Babies could pull off. It’s like one of those exercises we do in improv workshops, where you just let the different parts of your body move without really thinking about it. I know I sound like a complete weirdo right now, but just try it when no one is looking, and I think you ‘ll see what I mean.

Tonight my roommates and I decided to go on a walk together. I put my ear buds in and went at my own pace. I started out belting a little Aerosmith, then switched to Death Cab, and made my rounds through Van Morrison and The Smiths. I had just started spastically moving and singing along to Mariah Carey’s “I don’t want A lot For Christmas”  (It’s November this is ok now) when my roommate, Jake, tapped me on the arm to tell me he and Denny were going to take the short route and head home to start dinner.

I usually would have just kept going without a thought, except for today, for the first time in months, it was pitch black at 6:30pm (fucking daylight savings) and the path we were walking on was through a very unlit patch of woods. And there was a giant full moon, which just put me a little on edge. I probably would have just turned around with the roomies, except I couldn’t shake the memory of me eating about 17 tortilla rolls and 10 mini kit-kats at around 4 o’clock on Saturday morning, and I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something to ward of that repercussion.

The following conversation occurred:

CJ: What do  you mean y’all are going home?

Jake: You can come too… we just want to get a head start on the chicken…

CJ: But it’s DARK. I could get raped… or murdered!

Denny: Just keep singing and dancing the way you are now… no one would dare to come near you!

And that, friends, is exactly what I did.  I sung at full volume and spastically danced my way through the woods. It all went well until I came upon a group of skateboarders, one of which I couldn’t see clearly and I thought he was charging at me. I screamed very loudly at him.

I’m not sure which was more scary. Me yelling at a skater boy to fuck off and leave me alone in an extremely high pitched yelp or my approaching them using moves and a pitch my dad couldn’t even come up with.

Either way, I plan on continuing my tour through the woods, but only once I’ve purchased some high quality pepper spray.

I just don’t understand..

Like why do birds have wings to fly,

While we’re stuck here on land?

As a girl of six or seven

I was curious and keen-

I wandered what the difference was

Between girls and boys I mean?

I went to ask my mom,

Her face a crimson red-

“That’s something you will learn one day-

but only once you’ve wed.”

Disappointed with her answer,

I went to find my dad-

With hopes that he could shed some light

On the question that I had.

I heard him in the bathroom-

So I threw open the door

His back faced me but what I saw

I’d never seen before.

I  snuck away without a sound

And waited for my turn,

Curious to test myself-

A lesson I would learn.

The doing was not so easy,

But I knew I had to try.

I stood and thought this can’t be good-

Pee trickled down my thigh.

The moral to this story

The difference that was taught-

Is that boys can pee while standing up

But girls they just cannot!