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I’m not usually the type of girl who likes to kiss and tell. O.K., that’s a lie. But I’m not the type of girl who likes to talk about sexual experiences all over internets, especially on a site that my parents frequent. So today I’m going to tell you a story that happened to a, ahem, friend of mine.

Once upon a time there was a girl named… lets call her “Cari.”

She was young and naive and only a Sophomore in college.  Although she was not quite twenty-one, Cari had just began to get the full extent of how crazy night life in college could really be.

One night, Cari went to a bar with some friends. She had been kind of talking to a guy (lets call him Dave) who worked at a local bar, which was kind of awesome because he could sneak her drinks. By kind of talking, I mean that they had made out once or twice, but had yet to take it beyond first base.

At the time, Cari was still pretty naive when it came to sexual experiences. She had kissed her share of boys, but was not the kind of girl to go home with almost strangers.

This night, because of the ridiculous amount of drinks that she sneakily inhaled, she decided to make an exception.

Dave was quite a bit older and willing to take the drunken Cari back to his house to take care of her. He was quite the gentleman and even stopped to get Cari lemon lime Gatorade on the way to his house.

Once they got there, things got a little hot and heavy. Not to the point of actual intercourse, but to the point where clothes were taken off.

It was around this point that Cari passed out into a dark and dreamless sleep.

She woke up very early in the morning with a horrible cramp in her stomach. It was not the type of cramp that could be mistaken. She really had to take a shit.

At this point, Cari was still laying on her side under the covers. She wanted to try to sneak out of bed and into the bathroom so that Dave wouldn’t wake up to the sound of her using the restroom. She could feel his presence right behind her, and hear the sounds of his heavy snoring behind her head. She shifted to try to move without disturbing the hairy man next to her.

As she did, she noticed something very strange.

“What in the hell is that!?” she thought as she started to panic. It seemed to Cari, that there was something lightly resting upon her butt cheek.

“Nononononononono! This cannot be happening!” Cari thought as she tried to figure out a game plan.

You see, the pain in Cari’s stomach was so intense, that she had come to the conclusion that she must have laid a turd in this strange harry man’s bed. What else would be resting gently against her butt cheek?

She thought maybe she should just run out of the door, hitchhike back to her apartment, then convince her parents to let her transfer schools.

Tears came to poor Cari’s eyes as she realized that she had really done it. Her life was over. She was about to leave all of her new friends, and all because she decided to get drunk and poop in a well known bartender’s bed.

“There has to be another way,” Cari thought…. “AHA! Maybe I can just scoop it up and throw it in the trash without him noticing!”

Cari knew that this would be very difficult. From what she could tell, it was still in it’s solid form. She had been very careful not to lean back and damage it in anyway.

She finally gathered up the courage to very carefully reach behind her back and scoop it up.

Very slowly and carefully, Cari scooted her hand underneath the poop, hoping with all of her heart that she would not leave any remains  behind.

It was in that moment that Cari made the best discovery of her life.

What she held in her hand was not in fact a turd… it was in fact, just Dave’s penis.

Cari quickly woke Dave up and made him drive her home, where she was able to use the restroom in the privacy of her own bathroom.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The end.

I had heard so much about Inglorious Basterds, I couldn’t believe it could possibly live up to all the hype.

How very wrong I was. I don’t have the time right now to get out a full review, and I’m still digesting some of the gory details- but at this point in time I must say that this is my favorite film of the year thus far.

It’s just as bloody as everyone says it is, but I think it works. Brad Pitt was excellent as the lead Basterd, bringing out a character like I haven’t seen him do since 12 Monkeys.  Christoph Waltz, a German actor who plays the evil yet cunning antagonist Nazi- Colonel Hanz Landa- really stole the show for me. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I will shave my head if he doesn’t get an Oscar Nom this year. I’m that sure. I said the same thing about Mickey Rourke last year and Javier Bardem the year before so I’ll go ahead and just make this a tradition of being correct.

My other favorite part of the movie was Eli Roth who plays Donny Donowitz, other wise known as the “Bear Jew” who made a name for himself bashing Nazis heads in with a baseball bat. I know people out there have some hate for Eli Roth, but he is probably one of my favorite people on earth. In case you are unfamiliar, Roth is best known for directing the horror gore movies Cabin Fever and Hostel. He’s most often called a hack, but I tend to think differently. His B style films are intentional, and after watching the director’s commentaries, all of the extras on the dvds, and any interview I could find on the interweb, I’m positive that any time you laughed or have guffawed at a scene in one of his films, he wanted you to feel this way.

Plus he’s a hottie. But that aside, I think you can really see the influence Roth has had on Tarrentino in Ingourious Basterds. But enough about that. All I can really add is that even if you are not a Tarrentino fan, or if you think this looks too much like a “guy” movie for your taste- give this movie a chance, it will blow your mind.

And now I must be going for I have some plans for this evening.

I am now going to admit something to you now, something I usually lie about or promptly change the subject when it comes up. I’ve never seen Pulp Fiction. I know. What in the hell am I doing calling myself a film buff? Its not that I had no desire or anything- its just that sometimes when everyone and their dog says a movie is their favorite of all time, I’m scared that I’ll see it and then to fail to understand what all the love is about. I kind of made a vow never to see this or Saving Private Ryan.  I think now it is time I break my vow, at least the half involving Pulp Fiction.  I loved Inglorious Basterds that much.

That was me singing the Jaws theme song, if you couldn’t tell.

I have been really busy the last few days, which would be my excuse for my lack of presence here on the interweb. But I’m back on this lovely morning with plenty to be happy about.

To begin with, I had my first good nights sleep in over a month, thank you ambien. I don’t take it very often anymore, but I do take it enough to know that I have to go through a strict regimen to ensure that there are no adverse effects (or injury to myself and/or others.)

Directly after I take the pill, I have to ask my roommate to hide every ounce of alcohol in the house in a very secure, preferably locked location. I then must hand my cell phone off to someone for safe keeping. I must make sure that my computer is turned off and unplugged. I close my windows tightly, hide any art materials; sharp materials; make up; electrical devices; food that must be chewed, and of course-my car keys. If I had the tools, I would devise a bed with very complicated chains and a bed chamber to ensure that I would stay put for the entire night.

I know it sounds extreme, but I have every reason to take precaution. Once, after going to bed completely sober, I woke up on the floor of my living room  to the sound of my roommate’s (at the time) blood curdling scream. After rubbing my splitting headache and opening my blood shot eyes, I got up to see what the problem was.  After only a few seconds of investigating I quickly  found that I had polished off 2 1/2 bottles of wine, half of which somehow was splattered across the ceiling. The kitchen was covered in shards of glass from not one, but 2 of our new wine glasses. Every light in the house was on and every door was open. Luckily, my roommate’s Cocker Spaniel must have been too amused with watching my late night activities to run away. I went out on the back porch to see that I had attempted to smoke every used cigarette butt in the ashtray. I went to the front porch and down the stairs to find several pools of purple wine colored vomit. That wasn’t even the worst part. I went to my computer to find a slew of instant messages that I had written to a guy I had just recently started dating. The conversation history looked something like this.

Carissajade: alskdjapaskldjalk;sadkja jksal;dalkkkkkkk iii h

Carissajade: Wherrre arees you?

Carissajade: jelhelllllllllooooooooooo

Carissajade: Alkaj  all the other peoplee sayyy hiiii!!

Carissajade: alskdjalklkj jhe’lllllpooooo

Carissajade: alksdj whhhy not here? adkj  djkl

Carissajade: its a psakd its a partity!

Carissajaded:  akdlk thisss isnnt carissoa its someee otherr perssonn

Carissajaded: juusst kidiong maybeee

Carissajade: Thpe paparazzi was at my dooor annd I toold themmm I loove u andd nw evry one is goin to noo!!!

Carissajade: ajksld;alsdkaj jk hellop

Carissajade: I loovvve u ajdkl;adk

Carissajade: Thhiiss isn’t Carissaaa someonne elsee putt thatt i dont knoww whoo

There wasn’t an easy way to explain that one.  Turns out the quickest way to ruin a relationship is a little bit of ambien, a midnight cocktail, and three little words that I can assure you I didn’t mean.

I will admit that sometimes my actions following ambien are completely my fault, as I do not follow directions correctly… namely the one that says “do not take with alcohol.” I also feel compelled to stay up because I hate feeling left out, and my roommates just get so much more funny once I’m sedated.  Which is not saying much since I also have been known to amuse myself by watching the “bobbling heads” on a still photograph. I don’t even know what that means. Still I should know better by now. I’ve had one too many late night swims and near drownings that I don’t recall. Last night, however; I did it right… and I feel great!

Another thing that’s got me happy today is that it’s my Birthday week! I know, there really isn’t a reason to be excited about turning 27, but I can’t help but getting a little antsy about a whole day that is dedicated to me. I will admit that the feeling has waned just a bit since I realized I’ve probably passed the age where my mom will come to me and tell me that I am actually a witch and I will begin to start noticing powers. Oh well.

I think though, I’m actually most thrilled about it being Shark Week on Discovery channel. There is nothing that I love more than learning about sharks, except for maybe hearing about shark attacks. Each year there are only 50-70 reported shark attacks world wide, with fewer than 20 of those being fatal. ..so it’s a little difficult to understand our nation’s  fascination with sharks. I bet more people die every year by accidental (or non)  ingestion of poisonous berries, and I haven’t seen a whole week dedicated to that. Still though, there is something intriguing about the notion of human flesh being torn to pieces by a fish.

I wonder, had Jaws never been made, if people would still get that heart pounding sense of dread when they realize they have  floated a little too far out into the ocean. Would every beach goer still scan the water in hopes of  seeing a dorsal fin, not knowing whether they would feel excited or shit their pants if they actually saw one? Would there had  been a justification for dedicating an entire week to educating the general public about a species of fish? I think we can safely thank Steven Spielberg for inadvertantly giving us Shark week.