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

Remember how a few weeks ago I told you that my friend Moops has been wanting to start a blog? Well he’s been working on it. He’s even written a few posts, but nothing is live yet- and he’s not sure he wants me to reveal him to the world just yet. However, I did convince him to write a guest TMI post for me since my life has just gotten absolutely crazy the last few weeks. Maybe after reading his awesomeness you can help me convince him that he needs to go public!!!

And without further adieu, I present to you: Moops…

I am about to share a most pathetic tale of over indulgence; this story goes down as one of the worst nights of drinking I have ever had!  Wait a minute, who am I kidding?  I have a resume full of bad nights…with references.

Let me preface the detail of this story with the fact that I am not a delinquent, I have a good job, I contribute to society every now and then, and all in all I’m a pretty decent individual; I just get really drunk from time to time.  I’m about to be 30; I feel that I am fast approaching (or have long past) that threshold where getting boozed up and stripping down to my boxers can be considered acceptable if not slightly amusing behavior (not that that sort of conduct is ever acceptable). In my opinion, drunken behavior is on sort of a sliding scale. For example, when you’re in college, you can get naked and jump on a pogo stick in the front yard and it’s cool; but as age increases, even the slightest drunken mishap can be highly inappropriate and or embarrassing, and for me- this seems to happen at an exponential rate.

And so the story goes.  Halloween 2009.  At the time I was dating a girl who’s birthday was at the end of October. It so happened that her roommate’s birthday fell right around the same time, so they decided to throw a sort of joint birthday/Halloween party.

The night went like this- keg beer, lots of keg beer, my consumption could probably have been measured in gallons; this was supplemented with a cornucopia of shots, you name it I drank it; and then there were the few games of flip cup I participated in. PERFECT, I was ready to go, nothing could stop me, time to hit the bars.

Bar # 1 – I was now at the level of intoxication where I think I am inherently wealthy and feel the need to buy a round of shots for everyone within a 10′ radius of me. I remember the first shot, rupplemintz – GREAT IDEA!

I don’t remember much of the bar scene after that initial round; but from some forensic investigating I conducted in the days that followed, mainly examining my three separate tabs (all different cards,) subsequent bars were visited and many shots consumed.

Fast Forward – A couple of hours later we were back at the house for the after party – yeah, this thing doesn’t stop.  I start emerging from my self induced anesthesia, good, I made it back in one piece, I even somehow managed to make it to the couch and lie down, WAY TO GO!  But wait a minute, it seems that the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed over the last 12 hours combined with my horizontal position on the couch was making me a little nauseous, make that a lot nauseous, yep I was about to puke.  My body seemed to be paralyzed, so there I was, on this girls nice white couch vomiting a vile substance while a host of characters looked on. Some watched in amusement but most watched in horror (when I say characters I literally mean characters…it was Halloween).  29 years old, and I just puked on myself, just wait it gets better.  I was then thoroughly scolded and clumsily escorted upstairs and thrown into my girlfriend’s bed.

I did attempt one more trip downstairs for an alcohol fueled spirited conversation with my girlfriend, not sure what prompted this one.  There was one eyewitness account that I actually fell up the stairs (vs. down the stairs), pretty impressive.

My first lucid moments the next morning were a bit of a sensory overload; my head was pounding, my mouth was completely dry, my contacts were shriveled up like little raisins in my eyes, my body was totally void of any hydration and my pants were wet, OH SHIT!  MY PANTS…I PISSED THE BED!!!!!!!  At this point I quickly gathered my things, walk downstairs past all of the girls sleeping on a pallet and left, didn’t say a word to anyone.  AWESOME night!  Not only did I puke in front of everyone, but I pissed the bed too, definite high point!  It’s on my way home, with quite possibly the worst moral hangover ever, that I pulled my phone out and tried to make a call; it wouldn’t turn on, great.  You see, my phone was in my pocket when I passed out, it was around the pocket region of my pants that there was the highest concentration of urine; hence my phone not working.  I think I am the only person who has ever pissed on their own phone rendering it useless.

A side note:  Two days prior to the incident I had moved into a new apartment by myself, literally all I had was a bed (I do have furniture now – FYI), so not only did I not have any furniture or cable- but now I didn’t have a functioning phone either. Hungover- this is particularly  lonely and depressing state to be in.  I was forced to go to the Fiesta grocery store down the street to use the pay phone.

Alllright, allllright, allllright….

That was supposed to be in Matthew Mcconaughey-hey’s “Dazed and Confused” voice, just in case you didn’t catch that.

It’s Tuesday, and once again I’m posting for the first time this week. I don’t know what has gotten into me and Sunday nights, but I just haven’t been able to get any Monday posts done in a while. Oh wait, yes I do know what has happened. Sunday Fundays were invented by some friends of mine as a way to extend our weekend, and let me tell you-we really do have fun.

So I apologize for being a slacker on both blogging and commenting the last few days… but don’t blame me, blame my friends. And me too a little, I guess.

Before I get started on the oh so fabulous post-its, I have to touch on a couple of  things.

#1. Who in the hell designed Central Market and how were they able to make a grocery store into a freaking Bermuda Triangle? They put this fabulous little “healthy” grocery store right next to my gym that is determined to bust both my gut and my wallet.

I stopped in today just to get a loaf of rice bread, and an hour later I exited carrying 4 giant paper bags full of wine, a variety of smelly cheese, blood oranges (I have been dying to try one ever since I saw one at the beginning of Dexter,) pita bread, 2 types of hummus, home-made corn tortillas, luna bars, and of course a $10.oo pre-made salad. I literally cannot just walk into that place without spending $70.00.

GRRRRRRR

#2.  I saw “Day Breakers” this weekend and I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed it. I walked in not knowing much about it except that it was about vampires and that it had Ethan Hawke in it, and I left feeling completely satisfied. It was quite scary, had a few laughs and a whole shit-ton of gore.

If you haven’t seen the trailer, you may do so now. I grant you permission.

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

Some may argue that William Defoe’s character “Elvis” may have stolen the movie, and I do have to say he did an excellent job.

But more importantly, Day Breakers also stars Ethan Hawke. As a vampire. This man was simply made to play a vampire. I don’t think he’s the most attractive man in the world (that would be my **boyfriend, John Cusack,) but this man is just chock-full of sex appeal. He’s the perfect mix of grunge, baby face, and sexiness… and the way he talks? I dunno why it gets to me so much, but I guess if I really wanted to get down to the source, it would be Reality Bites.

I could probably write a thesis on my obsession with Reality Bites and the effect that I’ve let it have on my life, but alas… I won’t go there. Not today at least. But really people. I can’t be the only one who is totally obsessed with the fictional character of Troy Dyer. The older I get, I have started to see the flaws in Troy, but I can’t help but still love him. I’m pretty sure his character uttered the greatest line ever recorded in film history…

“This is all we need… a couple of smokes , a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation . You and me and five bucks.”

Every time I hear him say this (which is NOT at least once every two weeks) and Lainie DOESN’T kiss him back, I want to smack her in the face. Hard.

But at least  she makes up for it later on. Sighhhhhhhhhhhh.

OK please excuse me while I change my panties. Just kidding. Kinda.

And now for some post it’s! For MANNNNY more awesome post its check out the host of this lovely blog carnival, Supah Mommy.

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 don’t know whether it’s driven by insecurities, the need to fit in, or just habit- but I have realized that I apologize for everything, even when there is absolutely no reason to apologize.

Scenario 1: Yesterday I’m at the grocery store. An obnoxious lady with big blue hair and 2 loud little boys comes up behind me in the freezer section. I’m making a grab for a ham and cheese lean pocket when she reaches around me to grab a handful of frozen quiches. I withdrew my arm, backed out of her way, said “oh, I’m sorry,” and patiently waited until she was finished.

What I should have said: Excuse me bitch. But my arm was in this freezer before your turkey goblin arm reached around me. You can wait. And shut your kids up.  And do something about that mustache.

Scenario 2: Also at the grocery store a while back. I’m waiting for the guy at the deli counter to finish up with his current customer so I can order some roast beef. I notice another girl standing about the same distance back from the counter as I am. She is on her phone very engaged in her conversation and doesn’t particularly look like she is waiting. When the deli guy is finished we make eye contact and I approach the counter. Just as I’m apologizing for not immediately knowing which variety of Roast beef I will be having, I hear “excuuusee me miss, but I was waiting here first,” from the loud phone gabber, who incidentally is still on the phone. She rolled her eyes at me as she took my place at the counter.

I nervously reply, “Oh I’m sorry… I didn’t realize… Here go ahead. I’m sorry”

What I should have said: Uh Uh bitch. You take your need- to- be- washed and completely out- of- date cut off shorts to the restroom, which is the only place you should be having such a dirty conversation.  And maybe you should go to the fish section and buy some crabs so you can eat what you have.

Scenario 3: In the restroom just a few minutes ago.  I’m doing my thing. Number one mind you. Either way I’m taking just a moment to enjoy a few minutes away from the office. I thought that I had locked the door… well, because why wouldn’t I? Lo and behold, what happened next was the moment every public restroom go-er most fears- the walk in. The stall door opens and hits me in the knees. I look up and grab for toilet paper to cover myself and I say, “Oh my gosh I’m sorry!!”  I said it! All I hear from the outside of the already shut again stall, is “Oops my bad.”

What in the hell? I said sorry to the impossibly rude woman who barged in on me taking a leak!

What I should have said: Nothing. She should have said “Oh I’m so sorry..” Then maybe I could have responded with a  blushing “ohh it’s ok, im just peeing…” Or even if she hadn’t apologized I should have said nothing, wiped, waited until she started peeing, and bust open her stall.

I can’t be the only one with this problem, but even if I am- I’m putting an end to it, today. Never again will I move out of the way for person walking towards me while typing on their blackberry, and apologize when their shoulder hits mine. No longer will I step into a crowded elevator and apologize for making the area just a little more crowded. Never again will I apologize for bursting into song while running on the treadmill. ( Ok maybe that one deserves an apology…)

I’m gonna work on this and see how it goes. I’ll let you know.

Sorry for the rant.

I have had a really tired week. I drank a little too much every night, and now, finally, I have drinken 4 beers followed by a little friend called ambien… and i feel wweeeiiiirrrrd. don’t judge this writing. I love spell check though. it makes ya smell good.. spell good i think i mean. wowwwsa. It should be time to go to bed, but this is an experiment.

so there are things I have been wanting to talk about. One of them being the fact that the other night my roommates and i decided to have a salsa cookoff. In order to do so, we had to take a trip to the most (i can’t think of the word to put here) ________  grocery store in dallas….. DRUMMMMM ROOOOLLLLL>>>> The Central Market.

This place is absolutely like an amusement park for older, richer people, You don’t have as many rides, but there are so many things to look at. We always start out in the veggies, and pick up each strange specimen wandering how it would be edible in any country. There are big round yellow things (maybe egg-plant?) I dont knows… either way there is a shit ton of crazy shit to see and touch,

But in this case we were making salsa, so we went grab crazy for every type of pepperish plant we could get our hands on. For example, my basket was chopped full of poblanos, jalapenos, green chili, bell peppers and jabaneros. Maybe some other stuff too. I had to be reminded that if I’m making salsa I should probably get some tomatoes and onions and shit too. So I did that. Ok im losing my mind track. but im still pullin through. Bear (not the animal)  with this ambien head.

We then, for no reason at all travel around the corner to the meats. There are many that look very yummy, and if I wasn’t so poor and just in the mood to make salsa, I would have bought all of them. at least the tuduckerlkjre .. I don’t remember what its called, but its like a duck in a chicken stuffed in a turkey, or something like that. this is getting weirder.

so next we (for the first time in our lives) skip past the wine section, and are on a mission to try and find the most normal thing that could be sold in a central market. tomato paste. YAYYYYY it was there, bear.

So now I had lost my roommates but I knew they would be in the cheese section.. and oh yes i was right. Our house would seem like a fun house (as it does now in my state) if we did not keep mucho cheeses and smelly cheeses and garlic cheeses at our disposal. They go bad if you don’t cover them well, or so I have been scolded.

After the cheeses, we are pretty much in the clear, unless we catch eyes with the icecream like stuff… whats it called.. not custard but something like it. This time we didn’t come out with a large tub so I feel we won that war. I did have to run back through the maze to grab a couple protein bars, but that only took a second. Usually standing in the line is the worst. On average we usually leave with about 3  extra “line” grabs (chex mix, sweet peanuts, carrot chips, fried garlic,) but on this day i believe im the only one who came out with something like this, but now I can’t remember what it was.

We get home, and begin the race to get our salsas finished before our stomachs waged war against each other in the kitchen. We had 2 food processors, and a vegetable chopper that we literally had to hold up knives and wage ambien pills in order to get to use the utensils.

I can’t go into much more detail as I am falling asleep and putting readers to sleep. I will give you the non Julie Powell’s version of the recipe for my green chili salsa, which i think is pretty much a mutha bomb.

Ingredients:

8 roasted green chilis.

4 jabanero peppers

5 home-grown jalapenos from my garden

2 white onions

5 poblano peppers

maybe 6-9 peices of fresh garlic

cilantro- not a lot not a little

some spices.. maybe some cumin, a little vinegar, something red if you have it like red pepper (ground)

one small can of tomato paste

Preparation:

Cut that shit up as small as you can. I just kinda cut it and then through it into a processor to grind it all for me.

repeat as many times as you need with the peppers, and add more to taste.

clean your hands very nicely and as long as you have no open cuts on your hands you should be fine to moosh that shit around with your hands and it feels pretty cool too.

Then its prob best to put it over some heat and let it simma down now, so that it tastes flavorful. at this point- hopefully you have been on ambien or at least drinking and you will think it is delious too. Maybe I’ll try to post this again tomorrow once Im semi refressed. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz