I’m sure all five of  you are just dying to know what the hell I’ve been up to for the past 6 months. I mean, it’s not like I could have spent EVERY SINGLE SECOND of my free time giving myself multiple nerdgasms watching Doctor Who.

Well I probably could have, but then when would I have found the time to watch Firefly? HUH?

So basically, some really shitty stuff that I had no control over happened in my life. When it did, I tried my best to take control over the things that I could. I made it my mission to try to “find myself.” To work out every day. To meditate. To eat healthy. In short, to be perfect.

Until that point, I had always maintained a sort of  “controlled chaos” lifestyle. But I made it my goal in life to change that. I no longer wanted to be the funny girl. I didn’t want to be the person that people told stories about. I didn’t want to be the person that got herself into horrible, ridiculous situations anymore.

The truth is-by trying to calm the chaos in my life, I somehow created the perfect storm.

The harder that I tried to define myself (or find myself)- the further I fell from the things in my life that defined me. The aspects of my life that I had been trying so hard to control, began to control me.

I found myself truly depressed for the first time ever. I quit writing and doing comedy.  I fell back into disordered eating. I withdrew from my friends family… and THAT’s when the obsessive Dr. Who-ing occurred.

The one bright spot in all of this, is that I was able to recognize that I was in a bad place and that I wouldn’t be able to get out of it alone. I’ll go into it more one day when it’s farther in my past, but I will admit that much of my free time the last few months has been spent in therapy, group therapies, support groups and doctor’s offices. It hasn’t been fun, but it has taught me a lot.

When I got laid off 2 weeks ago-  I was sure I was going to plummet even farther into despair. In those first bleak hours, I figured I would lose even more control and that I would spend the rest of my days flying in weird octagons over the cuckoo’s nest. I imagined my parent’s selling everything they owned and putting on benefit concerts trying to raise enough money to give me a lobotomy.

Amazingly enough, the opposite happened. (You can read more about this in my previous post) It could be just temporary, but I honestly feel more like myself the last three weeks than I have in the past eight months. I’ve been sleeping again; albeit odd hours since I’m not currently working normal hours. I’ve been eating again, normally… when I’m hungry and not obsessing over every single thing that I put in my body. I haven’t even worked out except for the occasional walk here and there, and mostly just to get myself to a destination. I’ve found that I can find a balance in the meditating, obsessive yoga aspects my life and the crazy chaotic ones- and that I like it.

Most importantly, I’ve been recognizing that there is still so much that I love about life… and THOSE are the things that define me.

When I was a little kid, I followed a strict nightly ritual.

My parent’s house used to belong to my great grandparents, so it was quite old, even when I was a child. My sister and I shared a pink tiled bathroom that didn’t have a shower so we always took baths. After a dinner of either cheese and crackers or chicken nuggets, I would spend an hour or so soaking in the tub, playing with My Little Pony’s or pretending that I was a mermaid named Christina.

After my bath, I was allowed to watch about an hour of television. I was never much into cartoons, so I usually chose to watch something on Nick At Night. I would sit through “My Three Sons” or “Leave it to Beaver” if I had to, but my favorites were the ones that had a magical quality to them like “Bewitched,” (the fact that there were TWO Darrens always confused me) “I Dream of Jeannie,” or my all time favorite, “Mork and Mindy.”

After pleading “tennn morrree minutesss” at least 3 times, I would finally sulk my way to my bedroom, where I would put on a long nightgown and a pair of socks, one of which I would inevitably lose at some point in the night. I then went around to each of the dolls and toys around my room, kissed them, told them I loved them, then made sure that their faces were turned away from my bed so that they wouldn’t be able to see that I had chosen a different toy to sleep that night. I always slept with a brown teddy bear that my Grandma had given me, along with one other doll, which was usually my Mork doll. What can I say? I guess I had a thing for funny weird guys, even at an early age.

At this point, one of my parents would either read or tell me a story, but my dad always had the honor of tucking me in. We would start with a prayer. If I remember correctly it went something like, “Dear Jesus, Thank you soooooooooooooo  much for everything. I love you soooooooo much. Please take care of my mommy, my daddy, my sister, my grandaddy, my grandmommy, my other grandma, my other grandpa, my cousin Andi, my cousin James… ect ect ect. Thank you sooooooo much for food, school, dance lessons, Mork and Mindy, Teddy Ruxpin, my daddy, my mommy, my sister, my grandaddy… ect ect ect.” At the time I was actually quite sincere with my praying, but I also have to admit that I may have been using my time with Jesus to evade sleep just a little bit longer.

In the telling, this part gets a little weird, even by my standards. Not creepy weird, but weird as in my nightly tuck-in ritual was more of a secret handshake between my father and I than your standard “hug and kiss” tuck in. There were a few times I can remember when my dad was out of town and my mom would attempt to fill-in but it was never the same.

Big hug,  little hug. Big kiss on the left cheek, Little kiss on the left cheek. Big kiss on the right cheek, little kiss on the right cheek. Leg hug. Butterfly kiss with each eye, and then lastly, Eskimo kiss.

He would then prop the door open with a large rock (my dad is a geologist so we have them lying around everywhere) and that’s when my real night would begin.

I would lie in bed, still as a corpse for at least ten minutes, or until I heard my parent’s shut their bedroom door. I had learned early on to keep a heavy stock of flashlights that I found in various drawers around the house hidden in my room. I would tip-toe across the room, grab one, then run-tip-toe back to my bed where I would either play pretend that I was camping in the wilderness, or I would read. Even before I really even knew how to read, I would make up stories to go with the pictures, partially because I knew that my parents (the cool kids) did in their bed.

After about 30 minutes or so, my dad would come in and check on me. Usually I was able to turn off the light and feign sleep quickly enough, but quite often he caught me in the middle of an intense Indian invasion and I would get a stern talking to, and be put back in bed.

Once I was caught or had grown tired of playing pretend, I turned off the light and genuinely tried to sleep, but even then it wasn’t easy for me. Life got about 3,000 times more tricky once the lights went off, because that’s when the monsters came out. Duh. I had to roll my self up in my comforter because I lived in constant fear that a monster would eat off my limbs if I left them out in the open. Whenever I went to the bathroom, I had to do jump as far out from my bed as I could get so that the monster under there wouldn’t grab me and pull me under. And then once I got to the toilet there was no time for wiping or flushing, because of course there was also the monster that lived in the toilet that would pull me in if I sat there for too long. Then I would retreat back to bed where I would eventually fall asleep, and dreamt mostly of cock roaches or the Jabberwalky.

As I grew older, I started losing bits and pieces of my nightly ritual. Five minute showers replaced hour long baths.  I started watching Beverly Hills 90210 instead of Nick at Night. My dad stopped tucking me in, and goodnight stories and shared prayers were replaced by a quick “goodnight.” All the toys and dolls were boxed up and stored in the attic.  Long, frilly, nightgowns were replaced with shorts and a t-shirt. Instead of staying up with hidden flashlights, I stayed up on hidden phones that I plugged in and talked on for hours on after my parent’s went to sleep. The monsters were still there, but in the form of worries about school, boys, and whether or not I would get a part in the community theater play.

In more recent years, the last remnants of my nightly ritual have all but disappeared. I’ve spent many nights playing board games, writing in journals and blogs, watching movie marathons,  and drinking until late in the night. I usually sleep in a t shirt and whatever dirty pants are in eye sight when I crawl into my bed. I don’t say goodnight to anyone, except occasionally my roommate or to the internet via twitter. I’ve spent most of my nights making sure that I’m too tired to have a thought, much less worries by the time I hit the hay.

The last few weeks I’ve been trying to get back into a ritual. I’ve gotten back into working out. I’ve started reading and taking baths again. I’ve refrained from drinking during the week. I’ve started painting and watching movies on a nightly basis. But still they’re there. Those damn monsters. My fears of life, money, decisions, and what the next day… the next year… the next decade will bring. I’m not sure how the normal people fight these thoughts, but I’ve made it my goal to conquer them once and for all.

So bear with me if I’m a little moody for the next few weeks, as I am likely to get much sleep until I figure out how. But for now, I’m going to get into bed and read the bedtime stories that my grandfather has written out for me. I’ll probably share a few of those too.

Goodnight world. And Let’s just hope tonight it’s a dream about my boyfriend John Cusack and not one about my current financial state.

And only slightly related, a scene from one of my most favoriteist movies of all time… The Science of Sleep…

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Yeah… I don’t do them well.

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

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

Figuratively speaking, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yes… I realize I’m quite ricockulous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me: I’m having water.

Jake: I’m having air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Weekend party people!

I spent all morning writing a post that just disappeared to… I have no fucking clue where. Forgive me if this is grammatically retarded and completely un-pc, but I don’t feel like trying as hard this time around.

I actually started about 7 different posts that were potentially for today, but for one reason or another just never finished them.

I’m blaming it on the fact that I was just mega-slammed with work, and I  got a last minute call from Channel 6  News to be interviewed about my unnatural ability to do a hand stand against the wall for 8 hours at a time.

Ha.

Truth is, for the second time this week, I broke my “not drinking for almost a week” pact.  I only had a few much-needed cocktails, but I still feel like a big fat sack of guilty ass. Though I have no idea what that would actually look like.

The good news is that I kept my other pact to myself. I vowed that I would be completely committed to this little blog for the entire month of October… Meaning that, come rain or shine and no matter how boring the shit I threw at you was, I made a commitment that I would post every single weekday. Just to see if I could.

And check out that calendar on the side-bar over there—————————————————————–>

OH YEAH, BLOG! I Kellllly-Ripppppppad your ass!!!

And while this may not seem like a big deal to a lot of you, I have something inside of me that makes me  just want quit something as soon as I hear the word “commit.”

But alas, maybe these times they are a changin’.

So now I will continue with my visual presentation to the shit-storm that is my life… If you missed it, you can check out more visuals from last Friday’s post here.

Remember how I was just telling you about how I hate spiders?

I killed that mutha.

Well a certain little bugger  was sent from Satan himself to terrorize me this morning. Sure he was just a little thing, but nevertheless, he did his job well. At first I thought I was imagining things, (possibly experiencing the first signs of food poisoning that I’m sure to get after eating raw chicken last night) but after seeing a shadow repeatedly float across my computer screen, I knew he was there. I swear though, he was fucking with me on purpose. He used his nearly invisible web to cascade down from the ceiling, probably trying to get close enough to have a taste of my blood, and then as soon as I would notice him and attempt to take a swap, he would completely disappear!. I finally got him though. I would take a picture and show you, but there’s not a lot left.

Not only do I murder helpless creatures, but I steal shit too.

Does this count as littering?

Ok, so I don’t so much steal, (I’m not that tough) but I do accidentally take things quite often. I blame it on my severe case of untreated ADD. I’ll be focused and right in the middle of doing something….

I should totally go get fake eyelashes for tonight. Oooh, there’s a Target across the street.

Which is what happened at the bank a few days ago when I ended up driving away with that little thingie that they send you your money in. I have no clue what to call it, but if you don’t know what I’m talking about look at the picture above, ya dumbass.

Oh I’m feeling a little frisky this morning. Must have been all that sugar. Does anyone know how to make pumpkin dip? I really want some for the party tomorrow. I have a feeling that it is something like pumpkin pie, but I don’t know how to make that either.

Damn, see… happened again.

So anyways, I drove away with the thingie. I would have just taken it bac k, but I’ve already had to do that once this month, and I didn’t want to go to the embarrassment trouble. Hence the reason that I bowling balled that container right out of my car when I realized I had it. Always get rid of the evidence…. And then take a picture and blog about it… is what I always say.

Really, this is a philosophy of mine. (not the blog part) Chunk it out of the car.

Once, my college roommate accused me of taking her Outcast CD.  I denied and denied, because I don’t listen to Outcast.

About a year later I was going through my cd’s and came across that Outcast CD. I have no idea how it got there, but I sure enough chunked that shiz out the window in a moment of panic. And now, I’m blogging about it. (If you’re reading this… I AM REALLY SORRY!!!)

Have I already told you that I want to take wine behind the schoolyard and get it pregnant?

I’m pretty sure that I have.

My roommates and I have started collecting the wine corks and empty  bottles to use to make artsy things. They have even gone to the trouble of ordering glass cutters and candles and decorative rocks and such. Don’t worry, I’ll post pictures of our projects for you. Just as soon as we feel we have saved enough material to really get started.

Don’t hold your breath.

Have you met my roommate Jake?

Just your average night at my house.

For the most part I get along with all my roommates. Jake and I just have a…. special kind of friendship. Ok, I won’t beat around the bush. He is the only person in the world that has the ability to make me want to stab myself repeatedly in the eye. And I’m pretty sure he is committed to making me do so. He has the ability to speak my name at a volume that makes animals do crazy things like jump of cliffs and bite the hands off of small children. Oh the torture! Forget waterboarding, just send Jake. You’ll get all the answers you want.

Another example of his Jakiness? Last night, for no apparent reason, Jake decided it would be funny to reach his hand down the back of his pants and chase me around the house threatening to wipe butt juice on me. Luckily, I possess the only weapon that works on Jake (and most gay guys)… a vajayjay. Oh yes. Two can play this game. The chase lasted for about fifteen minutes and ended with Jake locking himself in the bathroom. I win.

On a side note, this pretty much works with anything when dealing with Jake. As long as I have the ability to drop my pants, I win!

I know you think otherwise, but I’m not perfect.

Note to self: wear a bra.

I know I’ve mentioned that my Halloween costume this year consists of a pair of saggy boobs that i ordered off the internet. Well last night, my other roommate Denny, ( who usually doesn’t give me trouble) asked me why I was wearing them a few days early.

FML.

HAPPY HALLOWEINER!

First off, I have a confession. I totally cheated on my “no drinking for almost a week” pact with myself. I have no excuse, except for I really suck at life. If it makes up for anything, it was only a few beers, and I still didn’t get any sleep. But i did have a good night.

Moving on…

Every month or so I like to take a looksie at the search terms people have used to find my page. I really hate for people to end up on my site looking for some specific information, only to leave dissatisfied and empty handed. Therefore, I will do my best share with you my knowledge about some of the more popular search terms used to get here.

If you came here by way of one of these terms, you’re welcome!

“hairy arse removal pads”

You’re not being very specific, but I am guessing that you are searching for ways to remove the hair from your “arse,” and not remove the hairy”arse” altogether (although I’m sure I can find someone for this as well.) I am no expert on arse hair, but I do have my experience (as you know) with hair on other parts of the body. If your arse hair is especially thick, I’m thinking you should stick with old fashioned shaving. If it is more sparce, you could try burning the hairs (in an open, well ventilated area) just be careful not to pass gas. You could also try plucking them, but you may need ass-istance, and that may be hard to find.

“carissa blog dallas”

There is a chance you actually found what you were looking for. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

“picture hand with red dot due to liver”

Why? Why would you do that to me?  You freakin bastard. I am already really paranoid about a little red dot on my arm and my liver. So sorry, won’t find any information on this here. I try not to think about it, maybe you should do the same. Or try out web MD. But if it makes you feel any better, my doctor said it’s nothing to worry about. But then again, I don’t trust that guy. He once falsely told me I needed gallbladder removal.

“free pant pee poo movies”

I”m not so sure how you ended up here on this one. I can’t provide you with what you are looking for, especially for free, but you may want to google a little word called “scat.” (thank you gay friends)

“do you know that demented person?”

I’ve been called crazy, eccentric, nutty, unhinged, and cuckoo… but never demented so I know that you came here by mistake. Perhaps you were looking for him,  or him, or  her….

“how to make a pair of saggy boobs for haloween costume” (this was how it was spelled)

This was a popular one. There were also a few variations of this search including “home-made saggy boobs” Making Golden Girl boob sag” and “homemade booby.” I am no expert here, but I do have an idea. I say take a pair of pantie hose and cut them off around the calf. Stuff them with sand bags then sew the open end to your shirt at chest level. It doubt it will work, which is why for MY costume, I simply purchased a pair of saggy boobs on the internet. Good luck!

“a dying bird on the road bit my feet”

How very unfortunate for you! First off, you can’t be surprised that a dying bird bit your foot if you were stupid enough to stand in biting distance. You must have been nearly on top of that bird. It’s not like that bird has arms to reach out and pull your foot to it’s mouth. And what did you expect? The poor thing was dying and needed to take it’s anger out on someone!

And yes, you probably have rabies.

“diarrhea every time i urinate”

First off, congrats on your superb ability to spell diarrhea, I never get that right! Second, so sorry to hear about your problem. I wish I could say I haven’t been there. I bet it burns. I’m no doctor, but I would say to decrease the burning sensation, try sitting on a cool washrag or an ice cube. Otherwise, quit drinking so much beer, try to eat some more veggies, and maybe try to squeeze to hold it in.

“effects of swallowing a spoonful of cinnamon”

It’s a good thing you asked before you tried. While this may seem like a fun party trick, I can tell you first hand- there is nothing fun or funny about it. When you first swallow a heaping spoon full, you think you’re going to be able to handle it. After the first little bit goes down, you start to wheeze a little, and small particles of cinnamon start to float around in your trachea. Then you will undoubtedly try to take a sip of water because you are nearly choking to death, which only solidifies the cinnamon into a mush in your throat. At this point, your best bet is to start trying to push it out the way it came in.

“carissa mustache facebook”

There is only one picture that I can think of that you may be referring to:

Unless of course you zoom in, then any of my pictures may apply.

“holy shit its james franco fuck me sideways”

I’m not sure why this brought you here, but I agree full heartily. In fact, I’ll expand on sideways, and go ahead and include any missionary, doggie, fuck! I’ll take any position in the book. I wish I could share him with you… but I can’t let you leave here empty handed, so…

Image by danzden via Flickr

“my pee hole dropped to my vagina”

If this did in fact happen, then bravo to you my friend. Ohhhh… I wouldn’t be too proud or go around telling potential boyfriends or anything (because you are a freak.) But dude! Go turn yourself in for medical research! You could probably make loads of money. And when you do, don’t forget who told you this golden advice.

“pooping”

This is a very broad subject. I think I’m just going to have to refer you to my friend, Dr John Dorian for this one.

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I actually didn’t even make it in to work today until about 1pm, though not out of any choice of my own.

If you’ve been keeping up with my life, (and why wouldn’t you be?) you would know that my windshield wipers have been broken for about 3 months now. I know I should have been proactive and gotten them fixed back when they quit working… but it’s one of those things that I actually only remember that I need to do, when it is raining. Plus it costs money. And also, it’s been just one more easy excuse as to why I cannot be the designated driver.

This weekend I decided to make an impromptu trip to Ft. Worth during a break in the rain. I put a lot of rain-ex on the windshield-which seems to work fine as long as it is only coming down in sprinkles. I made it there just fine, but as soon as I parked in my friend’s driveway-the sky decided to take a huge, never ending crap on my weekend… It literally didn’t stop raining until late Sunday night. And as a result I literally did not get off the couch for over 24 hours- except to pee and to refill my glass of wine.

So Sunday I decided that if I ever wanted to make it home, I would have to suck it up and take my car into the only shop that is open on Sundays, Pep Boys..aka Rapists.

Of course they didn’t have the part to the wiper motor that they needed so I had to wait until noon today to get my car back, and make the trek to work in Frisco. What a beating.

Over $200 later, I am happy to finally be able to drive in the rain without having to do so Ace Ventura style, but I’m just waiting to see which part of my Shitty Shitty Bang Bang car will decide to quit on me next.

A few other things that are annoying me today:

*Kanye West you are a freaking moron. I hate your music and it makes me furious that people of this world are ignorant enough to make you rich.

*I love the fact that my bank account sends me daily emails to let me know my account is still in positive standing. I loathe the ones they send me to let me know that my account has dipped below that positive standing. I just got one today.

*I actually don’t mind the rain… but it really makes me want to go home and put on pj’s and watch tv. It definitely doesn’t make me want to go home and put on gym clothes then drive to the gym and work out for an hour.

*I’ve been thinking about it this afternoon,  and though I don’t really love the show in the first place, Hung had a really really shitty season finale- and I don’t think I want to watch it next season.

However; not all is crappy. This Thursday It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia returns on FX, and I really just cannot contain my excitement! That coupled with the fact that So You think You Can Dance is already back on, I can continue making my evenings chopped full of slovenly activity.

Because I’m sure most people out there agree with me in saying that Reading Rainbow was one of the most amazing shows ever to have been broadcast. ever. Even so, I can’t believe I actually shed a tear this morning when I heard it is being canceled after 26 years, partly due to lack of funding from the Dept of Education. Apparently they believe it is more important to spend money on teaching children how to read, rather than telling them what to read. I can see their point, but I have to say that I think a show like this would help make children want to read, which is really half the battle right?

It’s not as if I’ve watched this in many years, but I have to say that I partly owe my love of Literature to Reading Rainbow, and its influence on me to read books. Maybe I should really be  blaming Reading Rainbow for the fact that I have a useless English Degree.  Either way it makes me sad, but I guess all good things must come to an end.  At least I still have my memories. I don’t know why, but whenever I am really stressed out, all I have to do is picture Lavar Burton- and everything seems ok again.

So I’ve been searching high and low for something that I can do that would be profound enough that National Public Radio would have an interest in me. Sure, I know TAL is often about the normal, everyday, people that live in America… But I’m not sure I fit into that category either.

Then this morning I read this article about a homeless guy who left behind his estate of 4 million dollars to NPR. He went to college, earned a graduate degree, became a marine, retired, then spent the remainder of his life roaming the streets without a single item except his radio- all the while investing his money and becoming a millionaire.I seriously couldn’t help but tear up reading this…

What a life! I can’t even save a hundred dollars a paycheck to pay off my tv, while this guy saves every penny to dedicate to a radio station. I guess he was a lot more dedicated to his dream of being featured on NPR than I am.