The truth is, things haven’t been all gloom and doom around here. It’s not like I’m sitting around in last week’s underwear listening to the Smiths on repeat while downing hot chocolate after hot chocolate. Not at all. Nope. I did laundry last weekend, am currently listening to the new Girl Talk album, and I  haven’t had a sip of hot chocolate in over 3 hours Yay me!

In other news I’m been geeking out in a major way the last few weeks. I haven’t spent a lot of time on the internets, but I have been spending a lot of time indulging in other things that make me oh so happy.

For instance, this weekend I was lucky enough to have some great girls join me on a wonderful musical adventure. I wasn’t sure it would be possible to have a night compare to the last time I went to see Joshua Radin, but -despite not making out with his drummer this time around (he had a new one who made weird sex faces when he played) it was pretty much the best night I’d had in a while.

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Per usual, Mr. Radin’s angel voice nearly made me faint.  I know I  wasn’t the only one by the way the crowd simultaneously sighed everytime he belted out a note. His new album is a little more rock-ish than I’m used to, but I actually dig it A LOT.

The real surprise of the night was his opener, Kelley James. I probably wouldn’t have been a huge fan of his music had I not seen him live but on top of having a knack for writing clever pop-culture related songs, the dude can really pump out some quality free-style- which is pretty much my favorite thing in the world. Seriously. I believe he shares a manager with Lil Jon, which basically makes us rapper cousins.

Well not really, but I did once challenge Lil Jon to a rap off at a nice Dallas eatery. After a few cocktails, I just couldn’t help myself. It didn’t actually happen… I’m pretty sure he thought I was joking, but I’m pretty sure I could have at least battled it out for 20 or 30 seconds before he Oh Yeahhhhed me outta tha’ place.

Here is Kelley James. I think we can all relate to this song a little. In fact, while he was doing the intro, my friends and I (all avid twitter and googlers) were ironically in the audience google stalking and tweeting at him like there was no tomorrow. Enjoy.

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In other non-related news, something huge has happened with my mouth.

You may recall the long time love affair that I’ve always had with ketchup? Well I’ve decided to have a serendipitous affair. With ketchup’s father.

Yeah I know, it seems a little bit gross. I always thought tomatoes were nasticular myself. I’ve spent hours upon hours of my life picking every single ketchup morsel out of pre-made salads. I’ve tossed many a tomato out the window after Wendy’s soggied up spicy chicken sandwich by ignoring my “hold the tomatoes” request. I’ve even grossed quite a few people out by spitting bites of chewed up tomato bits into my napkin.

Not only that, but I’ve always had a bit of an issue with the word “tomato.” I can never remember how it’s spelled. I always want to put an “e” on the end, making it “tomatoe.” Is that how the British people do it? Is that correct in some language? I don’t know. I do know that I also have gotten annoyed the way people say “tomato, tomahto,” and even more when people from my home state of Texas say tomater. Which is weird because I’m perfectly fine when people say potater. I don’t know, but I think it’s just because I always hated the food so much.

But now I say, “What the heck was I thinking?” Tomatoes are delicious, delicious I tell you! How did I go so long without them on my sandwiches, in my salads, plain with some pepper on top!???

I’m sorry ketchup, but you may not be as tasty as your father. I’m still up for a threesome though if you’d like.

Yummy tomato, get in my mouth!

Now, moving on.

Last night over dinner, my date and I played a little game that I love. It’s actually one of my most favorite games in the whole world.

Desert Island movies.

I know, it’s so simple. But it combines my two favorite pastimes- movies, and talking about movies. How can you go wrong with that?

Basically, you just go back and forth telling your favorite movies of all time and why. Sooo… errrmmm… maybe it’s not technically a game, but it turned out to be a really good ice-breaker. Plus, I’m much more inclined to like someone if they have good taste in film. What? Like you would date someone who claimed that “Wicker Man” (the remake) is actually a good film.

On my drive back home, I recounted the movies that I had said I wouldn’t be able to live without.

10. The Princess Bride

9. Back to the Future Trilogy (They all count as 1)

8. Anchorman

7. The Jerk

6. The Truman Show

5. High Fidelity

4. The Big Lebowski

3. Garden State

2. Big Fish

1. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

I realized though, that I hadn’t included any movies from my absolute favorite genre of film. The Musical.

I know that for most people, musicals are either take’em or leave’em. And for me? I’ve always took them. I was raised on Musicals. I’ve can recite every word to the soundtrack of Hair. I’ve seen Little Shop of Horrors more than most men have watched Pulp Fiction. And I’ve wanted to BE Kim McAfee in Bye Bye Birdie for as long as I can remember.

Today I felt a little nostalgic so I decided to download the Bye Bye Birdie soundtrack to listen to as I worked. At first it made me happy. I was singing along jovially at my desk to “One Last Kiss,” and “Put on a Happy Face.” But when “How Lovely to be a Woman” came on, my attitude turned cold.

I realized that I was raised on a lie. I mean, the lyrics to this happy-go-lucky anthem about womanhood are complete and utter bullshit. I can admit that yes, it’s a musical… it’s supposed to be schmaltzy. But this? Is going overboard. IT”S LIES!!!! At least when you apply it to my life.  Take a look.

When you’re a skinny child of fourteen,
Wide with braces from ear to ear,
You doubt that you will ever be appealing.

It starts off OK enough. I was never a skinny child, but since I did wear braces and have the self-esteem of a leprechaun, I can let that slide.

Then Hallelujah! You are fifteen
And the braces disappear
And your skin is smooth and clear
And you have that happy grown-up female feeling.

There was nothing about 15 that made me scream Hallelujah. Except for maybe the fact that I was so inept at algebra that my teacher suggested I be the theater director’s assistant instead of receiving another F in math. I did lose the braces but they were replaced with a painful retainer. My skin was definitely not smooth or clear. And I’m pretty sure that ‘happy grown up feeling”  she’s referring to is said in sarcasm and is referring to the wrath of having painful cramps, mood swings, and the task of wearing a big bulky diaper between your legs for a week out of every month.

How lovely to be a woman,
The wait was well worth while;
How lovely to wear mascara
And smile a woman’s smile.

First of all, in what world does being 15 constitute being a “woman”?  At the age of fifteen I couldn’t even drive myself to the movies, much less pay for my ticket. I may have had a few weeks in my life where wearing mascara seemed glamorous, but it was only a matter of time before I found out that if you put it on, you have to take it off or you’ll end up looking like a drug whore; and that’s a pain in the ass.

How lovely to have a figure,
That’s round instead of flat;
Whenever you hear boys whistle,
You’re what they’re whistling at.

Who wants a round figure? I mean I get that at fifteen the boys prone to say things like “If you didn’t have feet would you wear shoes? Then why do you wear a bra?” But round? No thank you. I think that’s one of the things that we women tend to avoid.

And umm. Guys who whistle are just creepy by any account. I’ve found that if a guy whistles at you, he’s either:

1. A construction worker

2. A yard man.

or 3. A creepy old man.

None of those are men who I want whistling at me.

It’s wonderful to feel
The way a woman feels;
It gives you such a glow just to know
You’re wearing lipstick and heels!

I would die a happy woman if I could avoid ever wearing heels again. The only glow they give me is the glow of pain.

How lovely to be a woman
And have one job to do;
To pick out a boy and train him
And then when you are through,
You’ve made him the man you want him to be!

Now this part I can get on board with. I would love to live in a society where it was my job to pick out a boy to be perfect little slave gentleman. I would make mine cook me eggs every morning and give me 3 hour massages every evening. He would hate football and like to iron. He would like to dance, have a nice reading voice, and laugh at everything that I say. I wouldn’t stop at one. I would be really, really good at my job and train about seven of them. I would never have to deal with dirty laundry or dishes again.

Life’s lovely when you’re a woman like me!
How wonderful to know
The things a woman knows;
How marvelous to wait for a date
In simply beautiful clothes!

I don’t know about most “women,” but I’m a freaking wreck before a date. I run through every possible scenario and we’ve already broken up 4 times in my head before we even sit down for dinner. Plus, I’m too poor to have beautiful anything right now. My clothes are all 3 sizes too big and completely out of style.

How lovely to be a woman
And change from boys to men,
To go to a fancy nightclub
And stay out after ten.
How lovely to be so grown-up and free!
Life’s lovely when you’re a woman like me!

I really don’t get this one at all. This song was supposed to be written about a girl who was living in the fifties. Were times that much better back then? I know when I was 15, I didn’t get to stay out after 10 unless I lied to my parents. I wasn’t allowed to even enter a nightclub, much less a fancy one. And boys were definitely still boys.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just bitter because it’s a certain time of the month. I think I’ll go listen to The Sound of Music. There can’t possibly be anything ion that soundtrack that could piss me off.

Except maybe “16 going on 17.”

Musicals suck.

Guns don’t always scare me. I’ve shot them from time to time, and I’ve actually enjoyed it. I am from Texas  after all.

I do however, have an extremely deep seated fear of being shot with one, despite the fact that  (Mom, Auntie Linda, and P.J.) please skip over the next sentence) I once played a game of indoor Human Duck Hunt- a game where my friends and I shot each other in the backs with a BB gun.

I can actually pin point the exact moment when my fear came along, and as jokey as I might be whilst telling this story, you have to realize that this was, quite literally, scariest moment of my life.

A few years ago on St. Patrick’s day, a few friends and I went to a bar in Ft Worth that was in walking distance from LA’s apartment. There was a patio out back, and we spent the night drinking green beer and having a blast. A few of our guy friends decided to take off a little early, but LA, Moops, Sally and I all decided to stay back and have one more drink.

By the time we left, we were all quite tipsy… or if I’m really honest, we were down right drunk. We stumbled out the door and proceeded to make our way across a dark parking lot towards the apartment complex. When we were about half way there, LA and I, in our usual fashion, started hitting each other with our purses. Every once in a while, when the moon is right, we are struck with the desire to wrestle, (don’t get happy boys) for entertainment purposes only. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw 2 people walking toward us, but I didn’t think much anything of it at the time.

By the time they approached us, we were so caught up in seeing who could de-foot the other first, that we didn’t get any weird vibes from the two. In any right state of mind, one of the four of us would have thought it strange that the two young people who were not wearing green were standing uncomfortably close to our circle. But no, we kept right on laughing and swinging our purses like drunken asshats.

When one of them tapped me on the shoulder, I assumed it was someone who Lauren knew. I laughed and casually slapped  their shoulder, thinking they were just enjoying the show. After a few more seconds I finally realized that Moops and Sally were laying on the ground, belly down, and one of strangers were standing above them.

I was about 2 sticks away from being this naive.

It wasn’t until saw the gun that I truly realized what was happening. From that point, everything started moving in slow motion. I saw then that they were both holding large, silver guns, and that they didn’t look happy. There was a boy and a girl, both in their twenties. The girl was wearing a large sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled over her face, and the boy was wearing a beanie low on his forehead. Just as I started taking it all in, the girl put a gun up to LA’s head and demanded that she hand over her purse. I watched dumbly as she quickly followed her directions without a protest.

I was then the only one left standing. I can’t remember who, but one of my friends grabbed at my ankle and angrily whispered to “get down.”

“Gimme your purse and get on the ground,” the guy demanded.

Even though I knew what I was supposed to do, I couldn’t make myself move. When I finally remembered how to make my arms work, I struggled with getting my new Beatle’s purse, which had been tightly wound around my wrist for the fight, loose.  When I got it free, I had the thought that I should retrieve my credit card before handing it over. Making what could have been the dumbest decision of my life, I slid my hand into the purse, grabbed the card with my cupped hand, and swiftly put the card in my pocket before thrusting the clutch in their direction.

The guy robber asked me angrily if I had taken something out, and I shook my head to say no before I got on the ground. Luckily they believed me. As we all lay on the ground, the robbers stood over us for what felt like an eternity. Even though my eyes were tightly closed and I couldn’t hear anything except for my own heavy breathing, I could feel the burning of the gun on my back. I was sure that every second would be my last.

After what felt like an eternity, LA shouted  “RUN!” and took off. She was halfway to the gate before the rest of us had even gotten off the ground, but we all followed quickly behind her. I was roughly 250 lbs at the time, but I ran faster than I had ever ran in my life.

Once we were in the apartment, we all got quite emotional. One of my friends who had left the bar early was quick to call one of our stolen phones. The mugger answered and some words (that I won’t repeat) were spoken. The police came and our cards and phones were cancelled.

Looking back, it was quite funny that in the short time it took us to cancel our phones, rap song ring tones had already been purchased and downloaded.

You can bet your sweet ass that none of us slept that night, or slept easy for many nights to come.

So you can probably understand why I got so freaked out when I heard a loud bang out my window the other night. Within seconds LA had rushed out of bed and met me at the office door.

“That was a gun shot, I’m sure of it,” she said.

I screamed something like “OHHOLYFUCKINGSHIT” and ran to the hallway where I slid butt first to the ground. “GET DOWN AND DUCK!!!!”

LA stood above me and calmly told me to get up. “It’s not a drive by, it was just a gun shot. I’m calling the cops.”

So I got up off the ground and dramatically tweeted that gun shots were being shot in my neighborhood. LA went back to bed and I sat up for hours fantasizing about the dramatic shit that went down just across the street. When I drove home for lunch the following day and a moving man and about 4 men mowing the lawn and moving stuff out, I’m pretty sure I was right in my conclusion.

I don’t know the details, but if my imagination serves me correctly, the scenario involved a midget, some drugs, the CIA, and an underground sex tape. I hope I’m wrong.

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

As I sit here writing, I am actually extremely close to having a TMI experience. My stomach is churning. I’m not sure if it’s because of the antibiotics I’m currently on, or because of the nearly 2 cups of peanut butter I spread over celery sticks last night in an effort to wain my sweet/carb tooth. Or it could be the gigantic bowl of beans I just ate. It’s most likely a combination of all of the above.

Refraining from eating carbs and drinking wine this week has resulted in my overindulging in protein in a not so healthy way. I’m not sure if this lifestyle is any better.

But that’s not my story. I’m gonna try to keep this short, because I may have an episode of emergencias de frijoles one way or the other in the near future. EEEEEK.

This particular tale occurred once again back in my days o’ college, or back when I was a still drinking. Which if you’re paying attention, was anytime before this Monday.

My friends and I were out in our college town, having our typical college night full of chugging nickle-natties and blasters. (Blaster= Fry St. code for Jager Bomb.)

I started out the night in typical “Hurricane Carissa” fashion- by dinging my best friend LA’s brand new (I mean within the first week brand new) car door against another car. She was a little peeved, but after the first few drinks and a few rants, she let it go.

On this particular night, we (read: I) were particularly boozed up. We made our way around all the bars and shortly before they closed at 2am, we decided it was time to call it a night. LA was playing designated driver for the night, mostly because she wanted a chance to drive us around in her new ride, but also because after the first bar it was apparent that neither I, or our other friend KT would be able to do the job.

Before we had even gotten to the parking lot, I made a loud announcement… “I have to pee.”

KT and I lived only a few blocks away, so they both quickly waved away my announcement and continued towards the parked car. Just as we were arriving at LA’s new car, KT’s ex-boyfriend spotted her in the parking lot. The details are blurry, but I do know that a heated argument started up between my friends and her ex’s group of friends. I stood a little behind the group, trying not to fall over as I looked longingly over my shoulder at the bars across the street, where I knew I could find a toilet street to squat over.

At some point during their argument, a couple of cops approached our group and started asking questions. Knowing I was not in a particularly good state of mind, and also that I didn’t have the best luck with the fuzz, LA sternly told me to go and get in the back seat of the car and to stay put.

“But I really have to go to the bathroom! Can’t I just run into one of the bars real quick,” I slurred. Or something to that effect.

“Absolutely not. Go and get into the car,” LA told me again as she pushed the clicker thing to unlock the door. “And do not get out of the car, no matter what.”

It all seemed a little dramatic, but at that point, I knew that my friend probably had better judgment than I, so I decided to follow her orders.

I got into the back seat of LA’s new car and settled in. I kept myself low in the seat as to not call attention to myself. The last thing I needed was to be interrogated. After about 5 minutes of waiting, I started to get a little restless… and my level of having to pee reallllly started escalating. I remember looking  out the back window and saw that the cops were now making my friends do the standard drunk tests. Walking the line and what not. Or at least that is how I remember it.

I contemplated getting out of the car and running to the nearest bar to relieve myself, but I knew that probably wouldn’t end well, so I ultimately decided to stay put for the time being. At this point I was going between squirming unrelentingly, and literally holding my crotchal area, trying to keep it in.

After about 5 more minutes I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had no choice. It was either pee now, or pee now. There was no longer the option of forever holding my pee.

My options were limited. I couldn’t run for a bar, I would surely be stopped en-route. I couldn’t get out and pop a squat, that would surely end with a public urination ticket, though at this point I hardly cared.

I crawled up into the front seat and started rummaging around.

AHHHH AHHHH AHHHH (heaven sound effect)

There it was, sitting in the cup holder… glowing in the dim light of the parking lot.

A 32oz wide-lip bottle of Lemon-Lime Gatorade.

I could do this.

I carefully unzipped my pants and pulled them off where they settled on the floorboard of LA’s new car. I put both feet up on the back seat, and shuffled then out until I was in frog squat position. I positioned myself so that my face was away from my group of friends, who were still talking to the cops.

And then I positioned the bottle.

Just as I was relaxing into my squat and gearing up to make careful aim, I heard a loud bang from behind me that caused me to lose my footing. Luckily, I hadn’t yet completely relaxed my urinal muscles.

I turned to see a cop shining his light through the window, where only seconds before my bare-behind had been. I quickly pulled my pants back on and hung my head in shame as I opened the back door.

The cop grabbed me by my arm and asked if I had managed to “do anything.” I told him that I hadn’t, and that I still really had to go. I think he must have felt bad for me, because at that point he swiftly drug me over to my friends, looked at LA and said “I’m not even gonna tell you what she almost just did in your car, but yall need to get her to a restroom.”

Everyone was so relieved that they were finally able to leave that no one even mentioned what the cop had said about me. We quickly left, and LA drove us home where I was finally able to pee.

We all lived happily ever after.

Until a few months later when LA was telling the story about the cops in the parking lot to another one of our friends. It was all fun and laughs until she got to the end. She stopped abruptly and looked at me with fire in her eyes.

“What DID you almost do in my brand new car????”

Oopsie. But you know what? It was not as bad as it coulda been.

-John Cusack’s girlfriend.

If you missed my vlog a few weeks ago where a tell a story in which I wasn’t so lucky, check it out here.

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I posted this yesterday, but not many people responded so I’m posting it again.  I’m stubborn like that!!!

I’ve been thinking a little bit about the future of my blog. I’m  close to 200 posts and will hit my 6 month bloggaversary in a few weeks, and I want to try something a little different. I have often been told that I have a story for pretty much every subject (that’s just my life) so I think in order to get me writing about things other than John Cusack, I would like to ask you to do a little blog assignment.  I give you dear readers, the task of asking me any questions you want to know about little ole me (and I will answer with complete honesty unless you’re a dick) , stories you would like to hear extended versions of (My 100 things post might give you some ideas,) or any other subject matter that you would like to know my opinion on (or a poem about)…. and if I don’t have an opinion on the matter, I’ll get one!!! Just send an email to me at carissajade@gmail.com, tweet me, or pop it off my comments. Thanks and I love you guys!

I also plan on doing a giveaway in the next few weeks, so keep your eyes open. I promise I won’t be giving away one of my decoupage art pieces. Unless you want one I could decoupage something of your request.

A couple weeks ago you may recall me telling you a story about my, ahem, ” friend “that I shall call “Cari.” It seems that Cari has a way of putting her way into interesting situations with guys. Today I will be sharing another one of Cari’s “hook -up” stories. This one is actually a little lamer than some, but still quite funny.

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Once upon a time, there was a girl named Cari.

There was about a 5 year period when Cari had a humongous, nearly embarrassing obsession with the popular boy band *NSYNC. If you asked her about it these days, she would probably deny it at first, but then she would spend 15 minutes telling you the details of how she got to meet them, and even got a kiss from Joey.

But I digress, that is a whole nother story.

One thing you should know about Cari, is that she, at least at the time, tended to fall for boys hard.  She doesn’t have a single “type,” per se, but she does seem to always fall for boys who are passionate. Whether they have passion for riding horses, Nascar, comedy, politics, sports, or music, it doesn’t really matter… as  long as it is  something. I guess you could say she falls with a passion, for boys who have passion. She falls even harder for those who love the same things she does.

Back in her sophomore year in college, Cari met a boy, who we will call Jack, with whom she shared a very special something. Something that should have sent off crazy alarms in Cari’s brain, but you know- sometimes she choose to ignore those blaring signs for the sake of a little attention.

Like many of the boys that Cari met, she met Jack at a local bar. She knew of Jack and his reputation of a ladies man, but didn’t know him personally, and certainly didn’t think he would give her the time of day.

This particular night was Cari’s lucky night. The bar started playing several *NSYNC songs, to which Cari had taken the time to memorize all of the dance moves to. She wasted no time jumping on the dance floor and showing off her moves, and her ability to perform them in a way that would give her favorite boys the justice they deserved. After only a few short beats, Cari was surprised to see that Jack had joined her on the floor, and he too knew all the moves perfectly.

“SWEEEEEEEETTTTT”

At the time, none of this struck Cari as in the least bit odd.

After they successfully pleased the crowd with several performances, Jack offered to buy Cari a drink and they were quickly engaged in a deep conversation about their favorite boy band. Cari casually mentioned that she had several tapes that she had compiled and edited of every single *NSYNC video and performance that they had ever made. Jack seemed very interested in Cari, and she was all too quick to invite him back to her place after the bar.

When they got to Cari’s bedroom, (where there was a wall size poster of the boys that she had stolen from outside McDonalds)  they quickly began kissing. After a while, Jack asked Cari if he could see the tapes, he said he wanted to see her fantastic editing job. She blushed and quickly jumped to get the tape. Afterall, this guy did seem very interested, and what would set the mood better than a little “God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You?”

She popped the tape in and the kissing and petting commenced. After a few minutes he grabbed her hand and placed it on his buttocks.

Ooohhh Naugh-ty, she thought, and rubbed his cheek awkwardly for a few seconds before she pulled her hand away…

They continued kissing and after a few more minutes he grabbed her hand and put it back  on his butt cheek, this time a little closer to the crevice. This time after a few quick rubs, as she attempted to pull her hand away, he grabbed it and placed it back on his cheek.

Cari was a little confused as to what he wanted her to do, so she tried her best to shut it out and just concentrate on “No Strings Attached” playing in the background, when suddenly he put his mouth to her ear and whispered loudly with his beer scented breath, “PLAYYY WITTHHH MY BUTTTHOLLE…”

Cari was quite taken aback, as no one had ever asked her to compete such a task before. She wasn’t quite sure if she had heard correctly.

“Whhaattt?”

“PLAYYYY WITH MY BUTTHOLE,” he said, unmistakenly this time.

It was at this point that Cari  noticed that during all of this fondling, Jack had shifted so that he could keep a steady eye on the television.

It wasn’t so much the asking to play with his butthole that bothered her, but more so the realization that Jack was way more interested in the boys of *NSYNC, than he would ever be in her.

At that point, Cari  quickly made up an excuse as to why she needed to get up early.. and Jack didn’t seem to be too bothered.

Just as he was about to walk out the door he got a sheepish look on his face.

“Do you think I could borrow that video for a few days?”

Cari obliged to get him to leave, and he promised to return it in a few days, and also that he would be calling her to go out soon.

Cari never saw that tape again.

Cari lived happily after after, and hopefully Jack finally came out of the closet so he could too.

Note: To Cari and all of her friends, Jack is, and will forever be known as simply “play with my butthole.”

The End.

If you’re interested, feel free to check them out- Here, and here… but be warned… in my younger years I was pretty much a really cool kid big huge nerd with a lot of angst. I guess you could say some things never change.

This last weekend I came across a notebook that a few friends and I had used to write notes back and forth to each other back in the early years of  high school.  Reading notes that I wrote in the ninth grade was definitely not the high point in my weekend, but I figure that I have already shared some pretty embarrassing shiz with you guys so what the heck!? It’s actually quite interesting, looking back at that time in my life. I remember simultaneously feeling care-free and yet urgent to fit in and be liked. I wish I could say that I never feel that way now. I wonder if I’ll ever be completely secure…

I have not done any editing to the content, except for names.  Enjoy, but keep in mind that I was in 9th grade at the time, extremely boy crazy, and  thought I was a lot cooler than I actually was.

SOMETIME IN THE 9TH GRADE_____________

Hey friends!!

I thought we could use this notebook so we can keep all our notes together. This is my first note of the semester!

NEways.

Scott Wolf looked soooooooooo fine last night on Party of Five! His dark hair, blue mesmerizing eyes, and Dimples!!! I LOVE HIM!!!

-CJ

_________________________

Ummm… I’m happy for you, but I just don’t agree. However Ken is in real life and is fine. So is Jimmy. But Chris is finer. So is Brett. I wish he live in Waco or at least Texas. I wish Chris didn’t have a boyfriends. I wish he was younger. I wish Jimmy would realize I exsist. I wish Ken wasn’t so horny. Guys suck!

-G

__________________________

Nope! Scott Wolf beats em’ all!

I’m having a crappy day.

-CJ

__________________________

Ken is fine. Go to hell. Scott Wolf is too preppy all American cute boy. He’s too good looking and perfect and I don’t find that attractive. Now that one guy I saw this morning with the gorgeous eyes and goatee I saw this morning is FINE!

-G

____________________

Hakuna Matatatatatatatatatatatata!

This morning Juan came up to talk to me That is the first time he REALLY said anything to me except for stupid things in Spanish class.

Scott Wolf isn’t that fine. I mean in a way, but I really like  Gavin Rosdale so much more.

S’s ideal guy: Curly long hair almost to their shoulders, gorgeous blue eyes, $rich$, muscular but not too mach, plays guitar, can sing like Gavin, sexy voice that could give me an orgasm hahaha ,tall, not too tan, British or Australian accent.

S.

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How do you think you did on the test? I missed totalitarian I think. Oh well. I can’t believe u didn’t watch Party of 5. it was great!

What about Chris? and who does A. like? I promise I won’t tell anyone!

-CJ

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Man, Gavin is making me so horny right now. haha jk. but he is FINE! I can’t believe you didn’t watch him last night on tv. Also I still don’t care about Scott Wolf. I think I made a 100 on the test, but not sure. I’m reading Gavin’s lyrics right now. This weekend I’m going to play the beginning of Machine Head on my friend’s electric guitar. hahaha

I also still kinda like Chris even though you think he smells. I don’t LIKE the smell of him, but I usually don’t notice… I don’t think he smells today, does he? U tell me because you sit by him. I sent you an email about Chris but I thought you read it. I’ll tell you who she likes but only between you and me.

Also I like that guy’s hair diagonal from you.

-S

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S,

I like his hair but besides that he is an ugly butt.

G,

Oh gads, 40 minutes til I see him! My Lord! How can I wait that long? HEEELLLLLPPP Meeeeee! Should I just go up to him and say “hey Bobby! You have such a nice ass, body , face and personality. You look especially nice today.”  Hahaha To hell with that. But really, it’s all true! REMEMBER TO TALK TO HIM TODAY. But I know know… what are you gonna say?

WB now!

CJ

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I’m gonna say what I told you I’d say the other day… “Did you call CJ last nite? What do you think of her? So you like her? U gonna ask her out? When?”

And also why are you wearing black sox wih white shoes? Just wondering.

-G.

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Shut up about my black sox! Its a little fashion no-no but I don’t give a damn bc I feel good today, I could fly!! hahaha You are so much taller than Joey! Oh and make sure he knows I’m totally sprung on him and everything. Even if you get a negative response from him like “No I don’t like her and I will never ask her out she is a fat and ugly bitch” Then you still have to tell me…Don’t FORGET OK done talking about him!! I promise!!

-CJ

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Bitch! shut up hoe, I am not taller we are the same height! I won’t forget! Chill Girfriend. Think 2 yourself, “I am such a pretty, sexy, nice, girl, how could he resist the irresistible?” hahaha Don’t worry he’ll be in love with you no matter what.

-G

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G WANTS TO SUCK ON JOEYS’S PENIS AND THINKS IT IS SALTY!!!

-CJ

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CJ WANTS TO LICK BOBBY’S NIPPLES!!!

-G

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In case you weren’t entirely sure that I was a complete loser made of awesome, I’ll give you a visual. Looking at it, I would have no idea what kind of image I was attempting to portray, but luckily on the back of the photograph I wrote “slutty pic.”

So glad to clear that up.

As I typed this out, it became more and more apparent that I  am was  extremely obnoxious and lucky that I have had any friends at all. I think I owe everyone I know in real life a huge hug.

Lilu is out of town for a while, but she has provided us with a series of very special TMI Thursday post secret posts. Make sure to check them out…. And for more TMI than you could ever imagine, check out her TMI archives!

I’m doing TMI a little different this week. I have a friend “Moops” who has asked several times for me to talk about him on my blog.

Well sir, I’ll do better than that. You have officially been email roasted. TMI Thursday style.

The following are emails that I copied straight from an email  conversation that happened yesterday afternoon.

I wrote the first email to a group of my friends when I realized I was having a difficult time coming up with a post for today. Moops spent the better part of the afternoon traveling all over the country for work, so didn’t get to check his email until the damage had been done.

Luckily, he’s a good sport. (I hope.)

Hey friends,

Moops has been wanting me to talk about him in my blog for a while… As I am completely brain dead today,I was thinking that you guys could help me out with thinking of a good story.

I know there must be many stories out there that I could tell that would be considered TMI about our friend in question.

The first one that first comes to mind…

Remember when we were calmly talking in the living room, and out of nowhere Moops reached down his pants, into his butt hole and then proceeded to stick his fingers in my mouth???! Just because ” he had an urge!!!”

I almost had to kill myself by ingesting bleach.

I got him back on the river trip though. heeeheehehee

You got anything better?

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RE: TMI

FROM: SCUBA

This happened,

Outside the Coventry Apts. Justin met our across the hall neighbors in his tighty whitees.  He then helped the girl carry groceries from her car up flight of stairs in his undees.  He then slipped on the very top concrete stair and all of the groceries went flying out of the sack.  He was bleeding and scrounging for groceries in front of our new girl neighbor in his undees.  Her boyfriend then shows up as this is going on.

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RE:TMI

FROM: CARISSA JADE

Orrrr……….Maybe I should switch gears and tell about the time Scuba pooed his pants. I was such a nice friend and told him I would do his laundry for him. I almost died when I saw the skid lake underwear in the laundry basket.

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RE: TMI

FROM: LA

How about the time Moops puked on my couch then had to be taken to bed? Fast forward three hours and he comes storming down the stairs yelling at me me. Upon his return back up the stairs he proceeds to trip and stumble back down to the bottom. To top it off, he jumps up, glares and points his finger at me and says, “Yoooooooouuuuuuu”!

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RE: TMI

FROM: KT

I have a quick couple…

How about the time Moops decided to tell us about his love for couches. He loves them so much that he use to have sex with them, sad but true. Moops use to masturbate by inserting his junk between couch cushions and go to town!

Or how bout the time we went to we walked into an apt. party of people we didn’t even know and Moops drank too much and as usual stripped down to his tightee whitees and the people were so put off they asked us to leave. We do and Moops begins to laugh. Of course we ask “what are you laughing at?” He then pulls out the tube of toothpaste he was so proud to have stolen. His grand revenge for getting kicked out was stealing toothpaste…

Then there is the time that Moops really impressed me. I had just moved in below him and had spoken with him a few times. My roommates were out so I went to go say hi. Moops opens the door and is unquestionably shit faced. We are watching T.V. and I’m telling him a story when he stops me and says “hold on.” He then leans over and pukes the smelliest blach puke onto his carpet, nearly getting it on his boy dog “Jager.” When done he looks at me and says “ok, go on.” Without blinking an eye! Bless his heart!

And then of course there is the time that he asked my somewhat crazy ex-bff to trim his pubes. She then convinces him that he should be blind folded for the event. She did this so pictures could be taken without him knowing. Blindfolded, naked, and holding a beer, Moops let this crazy woman near his manhood with a pair of scissors in her hand! Don’t worry she didn’t hurt him, she just trimmed, but it did make for interesting pics….

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RE:TMI

FROM: CARISSA JADE

HAHAHA I forgot about some of these! Speaking of the puking (not that there aren’t already enough puking stories) I just remembered about the time that I woke up to find a pile of puke at the foot of my bed. That fool woke up in the middle of the night, stuck his head over the foot of the bed, and then straight up went back to sleep.

The funny thing about that night that he stole the toothpaste, is that I’m pretty sure that was the same night we may or may not have dipped someone’s toothbrush and razors into the toilet. Oops.

Oh. And my favorite… (which really needs it’s own post) The night he peed my bed, thank goodness I was on the futon that night (poor shae) That wasn’t really even the bad part. He took the down comforter home and promised to wash it. Three weeks later I go to his loft and that thing was was in his closet with all the other “clean” blankets… and sure nufff …it had never been washed.

And KT. When you get a chance, you must send me those pube cutting pics. I have no idea what happened to my copy. I know it was in my glove compartment for a while- though I have absolutely no idea as to why…

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RE:TMI

FROM: MOOPS

Wow, all of this makes me sound like a really great guy!  I’ll get abnoxiously drunk, puke, piss your bed, might fuck your couch and I might ask you to get some of those hard to reach pubes.  I want to hang out with me!!

Scuba,  speaking of fucking things this one is for you…

I believe this story epitomizes TMI.  This came out of one of those story telling sessions where everyone was boozed up enough to share stories from their sexual past, the story didn’t necessarily have to involve another person, solo acts were admissible.  I’m on a plane and I don’t want the guy next to me to see what I’m writing so I have to make it quick.

So it begins, Scuba, the horny young thing that he was went about the house looking for objects he could have intercourse with, nothing too disturbing or out of the ordinary yet, right?  On his quest for pleasure a furry young thing catches his eye, why of course, what better sexual companion than your favorite over stuffed teddy bear (it might have been a panda).  But hmmm, how to make this lustful encounter logistically possible?  Cut a hole in it!  With near surgical precision (I’m sure) Scuba proceeds to cut a hole ample enough to receive his penis.  Then,  he fucked the teddy bear.

The funniest part is that his mom found the stuffing from the procedure; he told her that a kid down the street went into a rage and stabbed his bear.  So to this day if that neighbor kid is ever mentioned his mom says something to the effect of “ oh that so and so , he’s the one who stabbed your poor teddy.”

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RE: TMI

FROM: KT

It was a cow and he shared that story the same night you shared you love for couch cushions

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RE: TMI

FROM: CARISSA JADE

hahaha ok, thanks guys. I’m gonna have to use all of this…

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Oh yes, in case you were wondering… my friends definitely put the ass in class. Have a wonderful day!

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.