A few years ago some genius, and I do mean genius, created a site called “Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop.com. The site is no longer active, but from my extensive research- (one quick google search) it seems that the whole site was simply dedicated to this picture.

I think there was even a movement to try to get people to print out the picture and post it in bathroom stalls around the world. I know the site is no longer active, but I think I’m going to do it anyway. Maybe I can restart the movement… because goshdarnit, I would die of laughter if I went into a bathroom and Jeff Goldblum was watching me poop.

Or maybe I should switch it up a bit.

This might sound strange, but I’ve always thought that Jeff Goldblum looks nearly identical to Orlando Jones, yaknow- except for that whole skin color thing. So I’m thinking we intensify the whole movement and replace Mr. Goldblum with his identical non-twin…

But then again, my mom (always one to tell it like it is) once told my friend Moops that he looks exactly like Jeff Goldblum… So maybe I should go the obscure route and use his pic instead…

(Isn’t it incredibly absurd that 3 people can look so much alike-ish?!?)

So I think you should all print out that last pic and hang it up in restrooms worldwide. I’m thinking this could really catch on. Or not…

And just so you know…

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.

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.

I haven’t left the couch except for a quick trip to the doctor, which was pretty boring… except for  when a lady ran through the waiting room demanding medicine- and she wasn’t wearing any shoes. The whole waiting room burst into laughter; and for the first time ever in the history of health care waiting rooms, there was a brief break in the awkwardness. I’m sure there aren’t scenes like this in real doctor’s offices. The kind of doctor’s offices where people who actually have health insurance go to.

Then I came back home, put my pajamas back on, and took my place on the couch-where I still sit.

I  just finished watching Awakenings with Robert De Niro and Robin Williams. This was the first time I’ve seen it and I was pleasantly surprised. For a brief moment I pondered the fact that De Niro didn’t win an Oscar for his role, but then I realized it was probably because he went full retard.

It also provoked my friend and I to enter into a deep discussion about Robin Williams, and whether he is attractive or not. She says she wouldn’t do him… but I must confess that I have always had a crush on him. It must be leftover from my childhood obsession with Mork and Mindy. Until I was about 9 years old, I truly thought that I would grow up and marry Mork. Sad as it may sound, I even had quite a deep love affair with my Mork doll. I think my crush may have stemmed from Mork’s awesome taste in clothing.

After Awakenings,  I flipped through the channels an landed on Twister. Once again, I couldn’t make myself change the channel until it was over. I don’t what it is about Twister, but it’s definitely the crack of film. TNT plays the shit out of that movie, and I’ve probably watched it every other weekend since February. And it really, really blows- no pun intended.

I am rounding off my Saturday afternoon movie marathon with a thousanth time viewing of The Jerk.

Later I may try to watch another  movie that I actually haven’t seen a million times.

Congratulate me on a wasted weekend.

And also, does anyone know anyone who can install a toilet into my couch? I really have to pee but I don’t want to get up.