Per usual, here I am the night before the money is due, AND I STILL HAVE NO IDEA!!!!

I’m sure there are those of you who are going to tell me, “Sure Carissa, what do you have to lose? You’ll end up having a blast!” And you know what? I’m sure that when it is all said and done, that I WOULD have a blast, but we can’t discount the possibility that in order for that to happen I would have to be so balls- to- the- wall wasted that I wouldn’t remember it.

But I’m also fairly sure that there are some of you -who like me, are either on the fence about attending your own reunion, or decided not to go because you felt it wasn’t worth the effort or the money. I’m not even sure if this is how I feel. I don’t know how I feel anymore. I JUST CAN”T DECIDE! SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

Sorry for yelling. I’ve just been thinking long and hard (TWSS) about this one, and it’s a toughie. On the one hand, there are a lot of people that I would love to catch up with. I haven’t kept in good touch with most of my friends from high school and I think it would be real freaking awkward nice to see everyone again. Even more so, I feel like I’ve gotten to “know” a lot of the people who I wasn’t so close with by stalking their Facebook pages, and shizzles, it feels like I was missing out on some really awesome people back then. On top of all that, damn I look good and I want to show off! I kid… No but for real, while I’ve lost all this weight, most of the people I knew back then don’t even know I gained and lost a hundred pounds in the last 10 years, so I feel like that isn’t a good reason to go.

I guess my reservations are probably like a lot of peoples. I’ve heard that the 10 year reunion is kind of like a “show off” parade, where people talk about all of their accomplishments, show off pictures of their children, and talk about their career advancements. Don’t get me wrong great peoples of the nets, I’m proud of what I’ve done over the last ten years, and I have no shame at showing up single at an event like this. (although if John Cusack or Ketchup wanted to go with me, I’d be bout it bout it.)  I am aware that my goals are probably different from most people who I went to high school with, and that I’m not exactly on a “conventional” life path. I am perfectly fine with the fact that most people would probably raise their eyebrows at the amount of pride that I take in the fact that I have performed comedy, that I have been published, that some people actually read my blog, or that I am in fact, content being single. (At least 79% of the time.)

I feel that I have gone through so many changes since high school, and despite living in a world of complete (controlled) chaos, I like who I’ve become. I still have a long way to go, but for the most part (Yay) I’m a hell of a lot more comfortable with who I am today, and I’m a much over all “better” (despite my faults) person than I was back then.

Here’s my thing. I like who I am now. I like my life now. And while there are some things that I enjoyed about high school, I would much rather bring them to me, than take a roller coaster down memory lane back to that time of my life. I would like it better if I could magically just pick a few things that I liked about my high school life and apply them to my life now. Like the ability to wear overalls without people thinking I was a farmer. Or glitter. Or getting ready with a big group of girls before a dance, that was fun.

But you know what was WAYYY better than high school?????

Certainly not Junior High. That was even more awkward. I had like 30 pet mice,  wore nothing but vintage clothes, and really and truly believed that I could communicate with ghosts.  Which was cool, but back then I cared a lot about what people thought of me so I nixed out all of the awkward from my life as soon as I realized it wasn’t cool.

Let’s take it back a little further, shall we? Elementary School. That time of my life was made of awesome. I didn’t care what anyone thought of the fact that I wore Umbros and hand painted t-shirts everyday. Life was fun! I know it had it’s downsides, (like when I wasn’t invited to Brooke’s slumber party, or when some guy called me a one armed pirate because I had my arm in a body cast and an eyepatch on at the same time) but all in all, life was pretty care free. Again, I wouldn’t necessarily go back there- but I’ve been thinking about the 5 things from my personal Elementary experience that I would like to have in my adult life. So let’s do this.

TOP 5 THINGS FROM ELEMENTARY SCHOOL I WANT IN MY LIFE NOW!!!!!

My Tree-House: I had the best. tree-house. evah! While it wasn’t too big, it was perfectly adequate for my needs. (TWSS!!) But seriously, two of my favorite pastimes include making badass forts, and drinking on patios. Drinking in a treehouse would basically be the perfect cocktail of the two. Especially if I had cute boys next door that we could spy on. If that was the case, I would definitely remove the “NO BOYS ALOUD” (I was a poor speller) sign from the wall.

The School Cafeteria: I’ll admit it, while some of the best times happened there, so did some of the worst. I have a clear memory of walking through the cafeteria with my tray and crossing my fingers that someone at the “cool table” saved me a seat, but either way- fun times ensued. One of the worst times in my life was when my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Honzel, force- fed me green beans and made me drink her tea with red lipstick on the cup, to wash it down. But then I have to remember “The Game.” “The Game,” was almost as fun as the bug game. Everyone at my table would take an item of food from their own lunch, and contribute it to the community tray, then we would mix it up good, and each take turns trying to stomach it. I think it landed a few of us in the principals office… but TOTALLY WORTH IT! Maybe if I go to the reunion I will try to organize a rendition of this particular game… only maybe with drinks. IN ADDITION. Not that I’m as interested in these things these days, but do you remember that a Star Crunch cookie was only five cents?? Or that a NuttyBar was only 10 cents? Or that they served delicious square pizza??? #IWonderWhyIWasFat

Nap Time: Dude, this really needs no explanation. I used to hate it when my teachers forced us to take naps. I would do anything to resist the nap. I’m pretty sure I LITERALLY held my eyeballs open just to prove a point. But if my boss came to me now and told me “Carissa, you must force yourself to shut up and go to sleep for 45 minutes,” I would probably clip her toenails with my teeth. Seriously. Make me take a nap! PLEASE!

Recess: Another given. Fun and beneficial. Can you imagine if we got recess for thirty minutes every day? And I’m not talking about a cigarette break in the back of the office, but a recess where everyone was forced to go outside and “play?” I would be a thousand times more productive. Not only would I have the chance to hone up on my four square skills (because, yes, I was am-haze-ing) but I could also take out some much needed aggression on my co-workers in a friendly game of dodge-ball, or “tie your head up in a teather ball string.”

Talent Shows: I’ve talked a lot about this today, both on Facebook and on Twitter, and I was being quite serious. I’m sick of all these shows that showcase talent. You can take your “American Idols” and “So You Think You Can Dance” and shove em’. (Although I really do love SYTYCD) The real fun is where there isn’t any talent. I wish I had a way to post some of my early talent show videos for you… dancing to Debbie Gibson and Kris Kross… Singing to Night Fever… Lip Synching to New Kids on the Block. Wobbly Arms and no rhythm… THATS where the entertainments at. I would so spend hours making up a dance to Britney Spears, even today.

So basically what I’m saying is that we should have a talent show. What would you do? There’s no rules here.

And also, SHOULD I GO TO THE REUNION!?!?!?

Yeah… I don’t do them well.

I know I posted the other day about how I truly believe there are no mistakes… and I still believe that. I really do.

But that being said- when it comes to choosing between one thing or another, or whether or not to do something, or even thinking about the fact that I have a choice in the matter… sometimes I  feel like I suck big, hairy, man tits.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

Although I have licked one before on a dare. Or under the influence of alcohol… I can’t remember.

I’m pretty sure I spend half of my life debating in my brain whether or not I should do something. When I finally decide what I will do, then starts the debate as to how I should go about it. And then once I finally do the thing in question, I analyze for hours as to whether or not I made the right decision. And then I analyze what other people might be thinking of my decision. And whether or not I should even care.

I was originally going to post my test-ad for Craiglist, trying to find a free Life-Coach (with benefits?)… but WordPress hates me and I lost it, and I was too lazy to try to recreate it, so you get this instead.

Lately it seems I have some big decisions weighing on my shoulders. Like, where the hell am I going to live in 3.5 weeks when my lease is up? Should I just bite the bullet and move to away  and give this comedy stuff a shot? Should I go back to school and get my masters?

I really related to Shine’s post yesterday about her struggle with censorship on her blog. Every day before I hit publish, I sit back and try to think about who I could be offending. I wonder if people in my life who read this will assume that I am talking about them. I debate about whether or not I should even be sharing the shiz that I put out there, or if it is better that I keep my crazy head to myself.  As much as I have talked about this and have tried to adopt Shine’s philosophy of “it’s my blog and I’ll write I want to,” I know I will still contemplate these things.

It’s not always even the big things that get to me. In fact, usually it’s the little insignificant things that get to me the most.

Let’s reflect over a few of my small yet majorly time consuming decisions that I struggle with daily, shall we?

And yes… I realize I’m quite ricockulous.

*Whether or not to wear a jacket: I leave jackets places as often as Perez Hilton fucks is an asshole, and jackets are expensive. I have to constantly weigh out whether or not having a numb body is more important than losing an 80 dollar coat. Plus, half the time, even if I want to wear a jacket because it is 33 degrees outside (like it is now) I don’t know where any of them are. So then I have to decide if I should invest the time to look for said jacket, or just make a freezing cold run for it. And more so?  Dude. I live in Texas. You never know what a fall/winter/spring day will bring. If I wear the jacket, I usually end up with sweaty armpits. And if I don’t? All my arm hair, plus an additional 3 inches grows back.

*Whether to get the hell up and ready, or push snooze 14 more times: I’m not even sure why I bother with this one. But I do, every. single. morning.    My alarm goes off at 6:30. I snooze until 6:40. This is the time when I start debating whether I should get in the shower, blow dry my hair, watch 20 minutes of Good Morning America while I think about fixing my hair but usually don’t and  instead choose to eat a grapefruit in bed. Or whether I should continue to snooze until 7:15 when I will jump out of bed in a panic, throw on dirty clothes, brush my teeth, grab a banana, and run out the door with my clothes inside out. 99.98767899936 percent of the time push snooze at least 9 times and I show up at work looking like a person from underneath the stairs.

*Whether or not to go out: This is always a question that requires a lot of thought. I mean, if I choose to go out, that usually means that I have to shower (which I detest) and that I have to find something to wear. Then I have to think about whether or not I am actually in the mood to be social. Do I have money? Are my eyebrows plucked? Is there even anyone going to be there that I want to talk to? Am I having an ugly-face day? Not that these questions really matter much in the real decision making process… It usually all comes down to who is guest hosting  SNL tonight? and do I have beer at home?

*What to eat for dinner: For my roommates and I, this is literally the most difficult decision that we have to come to as a group, daily. The texts usually start somewhere between 2 and 3pm, once lunch starts to wear off. Our conversations are pretty much always the same.

Me: I’m hungry, what should we do for dinner?

Jake: meeee toooo… I’m craving Mi Cocina!

Me: We can’t afford Mi Cocina, plus then we’ll have the runs, and have to run afterward to burn off that 5000 calorie Limbo Taxi we will have.

Jake: urghhhhhhh….. well what do we do?

Me: I’m having 3 pieces of un-cooked rice.

Jake: I’m having 8 baked beans so that I can keep full longer.

Me: I’m having water.

Jake: I’m having air.

And then we usually decide to meet at home to discuss our options before we go to the store, which usually results in us sitting around for two more hours starving… so we either settle on fish and veggies that we have in our freezer, or we wait another additional hour before we go to the store, each of us emerging with a tv dinner and a bottle of wine. But it’s all good because by that time, I have already eaten off all of my fingers and I’m not even hungry anymore.

I really just want a feeding tube. I think that would solve everything.

*Do I, or don’t I applaud at the end of a movie: Yes. I’m a clapper. What? I like showing my appreciation. Plus it feels really validating when you clap first and everyone else joins in. But you always risk the chance that no one will join in, causing you to be the lone-idiot-slow clapper.

*To drink or not to drink: I more apt to go with the “to” on this one. I still have at least five minutes of internal debate.

*And more importantly, to ambien or not to ambien: This debate doesn’t have to do so much with actually taking it, it’s more as to whether or not I will actually get into bed after the fact. And after I take it, the decision is really no longer up to me.

*Whether or not to speak up: Dude, this is the worst. I’m an honest person. I believe in telling the truth, but there are some situations where I am just at a loss as to whether or not I should speak my mind or put myself out there. I’m talking about in multiple types of situations, with friends,with guys, at work… whatever. I never know what to do when friends who ask for my opinion about a situation, especially when I know that telling someone the truth could possibly hurt them. I also constantly struggle with putting my feelings out there when I know it could result in getting hurt myself. I decided a while back not to play games, and lately I’ve been taking more risks with my words…. Still not sure how well that is working out.

*Whether or not I should check my bank account: A lose/lose situation. I check it and am either completely bummed or I see that I actually have money and then proceed to overspend. Or I don’t check it and proceed to overspend. Conundrum.

*To pee, or not to pee: Well, I don’t usually think about this too much. I usually just go when I gotta go. Preferably in a toilet, and not as a result of a sneeze. But right now I feel that I have to go, but I really don’t feel like getting up until I finish this, and I also know that the toilet is going to freeze my ass off, and I actually kind of like my ass. But after thinking about it the last few minutes, I think I’m going to go ahead and pee so I don’t sneeze and accidentally pee my pants or something.

Happy Weekend party people!

Image via Wikipedia

At the very least, I would like for the entire world to realize that Nickelback sucks hairy balls!

You know what? That’s not even fair. I am not even going to pretend that I know enough about music to say that they are musically shitty, because I’m sure they have at least a little talent or they wouldn’t be winning Grammys and what not. I do know enough about hearing things to know that listening to Chad Kroeger sing is only about 3 steps away from being literally raped in the ear.

Which is precisely what has been happening to me all week.

I get it Jack FM. You play what YOU want. And that is the exact opposite of what I want about 17 times every day.

Every time I hear those first few chords and his whiny groan of a voice chime out with-”How the hell we end up like this?” a little part of me dies.

And yes, I realize that that this may seem a little hypocritical considering that am writing this a day after posting how horrible of a singer I am myself. But you know what? I don’t get paid millions and millions of dollars to entertain people with my voice. (Though I bet I COULD  get paid tens of dollars NOT to entertain my five co-workers in my office.)

It does please me to see that there really is a lot of Nickelback hate out there. I’ve probably  heard more people say that they hate Nickelback than I’ve hear people say they hate Kanye West. If all the hate, then why are they still all over the radio? I’m starting to be convinced that half the people who say they “hate” this band are just doing it to get on the hateorade bandwagon. Maybe it’s just become trendy to shout out your angst at a band whom you haven’t really even formed a proper opinion about and then go home and buy forty dollars worth of their music on itunes to see what the hate is all about, therefore leading the radio people to believe that people want to hear this Godforsaken music and cause them to play it all freaking day. (I only know this happens because I have fallen for it myself. Thank you Miley Cyrus.)

I’ll be honest. Maybe I haven’t given them a proper chance. It’s not like I’ve heard any of there songs besides the five that are played 13 trazillion times on the radio every day. Nor do I want to.

My hate comes from a very personal experience, one  not even related to their music, (though I still think their music sucks) one that Ive spoken of briefly before.

Back when I was in college, our football team made it to the playoffs  resulting in a bowl game in New Orleans. I was involved in  a drinking spirit organization that went to all the football games and drank cheered from the stands. During After the football game, I went down to Bourbon street to meet up with a friend who had moved away a few years before, and had also come in town for the bowl game.

We met at one of those little stands where they sell the big Hurricane drinks (you know those tall red drinks you can buy on the side of the street with an umbrella stuck in it??) We had  just retrieved our drinks (though I was probably already quite a few deep) when we decided we should take pictures to celebrate our reunion and to show off our Hurricanes.

There were three of us gathered and we all wanted to be in the picture, so I looked around to see if there was anyone around who I could trust to take it.

I approached a group of people nearby who were dressed anywhere from “homeless” to “douche-bag,” but seeing as there was no one else around, I decided to ask them anyway.

CJ: Would one of  you mind taking a picture of us? My friends and I all want to be in it?”

I spoke openly to the group. As I did, the group all shifted their attention to the homeless looking greasy man in the center, who was obviously their leader.

Homeless looking greasy man: “Well sure ladies, I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”

He left his spot in the group and walked past the camera that I held out for him.

CJ: Umm… Nervous laughter.…

Homeless looking greasy man: Where would you like me to stand? As he is already edging himself between my friends and I, putting his arms around our shoulders.

CJ: Tehhehee… actually, we were just gonna see if you could take a picture of us! We haven’t seen each other in a while and don’t really want a stranger in our picture.

The homeless looking greasy man was taken aback. He clearly thought we were joking until we had reposed without him and I was once again trying to hand him my camera.

Homeless looking greasy man’s group finally took notice of what was going on, and all at once started talking.

“Do you know what you’re doing?? one of them said. “That’s fucking Chad Kroeger!!!”

CJ: Okkkkkkk? (and why do I care?)

“The lead fucking singer for Nickelback you bitch.”

CJ: Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhh. (shit!… But still,  who cares? No reason to act like an asshole.)

Homeless looking Greasy man AKA Chad Kroeger: Fuck you, Fuck you bitches.

Then we laughed and ran away as fast as we could.

Looking back, I can understand that he may have been embarrassed to assume that we wanted a picture with him.

Regardless, to tell someone “Fuck you” for not recognizing you? Add in the ability to kill small children with the sound of your voice?

Suck it, Chad Kroeger. I’ll never forgive you.

Which was actually what I was posting about, so right on.

That made me curious to see some of the other search terms that have brought people here so far.When I got to looking at them, I realized that I probably did not actually provide these people the information that they were seeking.

I will do my best to provide the information I assume they were looking for now.

* Ernie Bert Gay? – Although there are fervent rumors going around that they are gay-I think its safe to say that all clues point to no. Just because two men live together past the age of twenty doesn’t mean they are gay. Half of the time they didn’t even get along. Also, I specifically remember them having 2 separate beds. Most importantly; really- do you think a gay guy would let his eyebrows get so out of control? I think not.

*Puking on me- No thanks, I’m really not into that sort of stuff.

*How do I know if I’m correctly brushing my teeth? – Do you notice people cupping there hand over their face when they talk to you? If you lick your hand, and then smell your hand does it smell bad? Is your tongue white? If you answered no to all of these questions, then your brushing them good enough by my standards.

*Hairy Ladies- For this, you did come to the right place. If you are looking for advice on how to treat a hairy lady, just never mention the hair and all should be fine. Remember, hairy ladies are people too. If you’re seeking advice on how to tell a lady she is hairy- you don’t need to. She already knows but has probably grown so tired of plucking/nairing/bleaching that she just doesn’t care anymore. If you were looking to meet someone- why yes, I am single.

*Her Morning Breath- I’m not sure why everyone is coming here seeking hygiene advice… but it’s a good thing I’m an expert. I’m assuming on this one that you weren’t actually looking for me. If you were, your search phrase would have been: ” Her morning breath smells of roses and wine.” If you were trying to find out if the band name you want to use is available, the answer is yes- but you should only use it if you’re genre is heavy metal.

*Nair burns look like herpes- Why yes, I suppose they can. But if you are googling this for reassurance, I wouldn’t rely on the voice of the internet to tell you what you want to hear. From one paranoid cyberchondriac to another- you are going to google this every day until you go to the doctor to find out for sure. Just do it already.

*Hurricane Carissa- Really people? this nickname is getting old.

*500 days of shit- You did come to the right place for this one. Just keep reading. I think I’m currently somewhere around day 90.

I know I should have been preparing myself a little better for this day, but I have been ignoring the Negative Nancy’s and have chosen to listen to the people who said he was getting better. I feel so stupid having such a strong reaction to the death of someone who I have only known through  films… but I am really, genuinely sad… and for oh so many reasons.

For one- in a way, he was my first love.

He was one of the reasons I loved to dance… and made me not so afraid to move my hips.

More importantly, he made straight guys not so afraid of dancing… I remember my high school boyfriend even let me teach him the “Time of my life” dance.

He is the reason “ditto” was introduced into the English vocabulary.

I think the  love for Johnny Castle (Dirty Dancing) has really influenced the average girl’s love for the “bad boy.”

He played a really really pretty drag queen(Too Wong Foo.) I am still a little jealous of his legs.

Patrick Swayze was so good, he even made Keanu Reeves look good in Point Break.

He gave hope to many fugly girls with no rhythm. (Dirty Dancing)

He also gave us the song “She’s like the Wind” that was all kinds of awesome.

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Additionally, he gave us one of the best sketches ever on SNL.

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Anyway, I just wanted to take a moment to tell say how much Mr. Swayze will be missed. Now I must go watch the last part of “Time of my life” where he kind of lip syncs and moves his eyebrows up and down- over and over.

This being said, I would probably sell my DVD collection my kidney, if I knew it would get me a sure fire way to remove my unwanted facial hair. I seriously wouldn’t be surprised if I found out my real father is Eugene Levy, it’s that bad. And that’s just the upper part of my face. If I were to avoid my daily maintenance, I could beat out Daniel Day Lewis in a mustache growing competition.

I won’t even go into the details of the lowest region of my face. Lets just say there are days when I could walk into a circus sideshow, and get offered money to stay there forever.

It’s really not as bad as it sounds. When you’ve been plucking your eyebrows and been a Nair burn victim since the age of ten, the act of dealing with your hair becomes almost as routine as a daily shower. Some of my most vivid childhood memories include my mom holding me down and plucking my eyebrows, the mixture of her morning breath and the pain causing me to shout out expletives. I know now that she was just trying to save me from becoming the leper of my school. You learn to keep a pair of tweezers in your purse as well as one in your glove box. You make weekly trips to CVS for women facial shavers, for emergency use only. When ever asked about said razors, you don’t even have to think about lying before you automatically tell people that they are  specifically made for your feet. Then you realize having toe hair is no better than having a misstache.  Your body has grown an innate radar, that drives you straight to the closest nail salon for a quick wax when your wallet says its ok. And like clockwork, the first thing you do when you get in your car to go out in public, is pull down your mirror and turn your face to every angle in the sunlight to ensure there are no sun hairs.

As you can imagine, I have spent money on countless products, marketed at women just like me. They all spout their empty promises that I’ll never again be called Sasquatch or asked if I have a hormonal problem.

I recently made yet another purchase that caused extreme buyer’s remorse. And as a hairy woman, I feel that it is my duty to warn all the hairy ladies (and gay men) of the world of yet another product that fed me lies. I’m sure by now you’ve seen the commercials for Smooth Away.

I really should known the first time I saw a smooth away infomercial that those women were stirring up a huge crock of shit. First off ,I know by now that anything that has ever been remotely affective is NEVER painless and easy. Plus $20 is way too little to pay for something that needs to be as affective as a weed whacker. Nevertheless, I did not hesitate to put down the twenty dollar face wash I was holding in the CVS aisle, in lieu of my very own set of TWO Smooth Away hair removal pads.

On my way home I was giddy imagining my new hairless face. I grew excited thinking that in the very near future I could look in the mirror without recalling Bert and Ernie. I might go visit my Asian nail friends down the street just so that, for once; I wouldn’t have them above me cry out “ohhhh you’re hewwwey” before giggling and going back into her native language to tell her friend that they need to put a “no pets aloud” sign on the door.

As I poised in front of my mirror,I thought “This is gonna be like the difference between the George Clooney in “Oh Brother Where Art Thou,” and the George Clooney in “One Fine Day.”

After prying the plastic open with my teeth I started reading the directions. It all sounded easy enough. I got a little nervous that it said for “best results the hair should be no more than 1/4 inch long.” Oh well, so it won’t work on my legs. My face is my main concern anyway. After two attempts I was finally able to stick the applicator pad on the applicator without wrinkles. This had to be perfect. But I couldn’t help thinking that the pad looked awfully similar to the sand paper I use for my decoupage “art.”

Sandpaper

also sandpaper?

Well now let’s skip ahead after thirty minutes of rubbing circles on my face. I quickly found that whomever had created the product, filmed the commercials, and written the instructions,  had either never actually used the product, or are all currently running around with fire in their britches, and I don’t mean herpes. Though I do wish a bad case of mouth herpes on anyone employed by smooth away. Heed my warning, If it looks like sandpaper, it most likely works like sandpaper.  The exfoliating hair removal pad had left me with a baby-powder-like layer of skin on my face. And I still looked more closely related to a gorilla than a lady. Also, it wasn’t easy or painless. I had to put quite an effort into removing all my skin.

I hope you take my advice and, at least for the time-being, stick with your facial razors and tweezers. I’ll keep you updated on how my next attempt at hair removal goes, when I order Finally Free.