I had a breakdown at the end of my first senior year of college. I had just finished failing algebra for the 4th time, and I was looking at an entire summer of leftover classes and working at the job from hell, literally.

Ironically, the job that the devil built had the clever facade of being a “Christian Costume shop.” Meaning: they played nothing but Christian music, hung up fliers about God all over the store, and rented church groups costumes at a deeply discounted rate. But they didn’t fool me. No sir. From the first day, I could feel the heat in that place.

The owner was one of those men who worked hard to make a good first impression. He would offer a “God Bless you” at the end of a sale and would fake-laugh his way through conversations with elderly women trying on wigs for a Senior Citizens ball;  but anyone who had the terror of working for him knew better.

The first day I was there, he informed me that I had “the handwriting of a five year old” and that “that was a sign of stupidity in women.” The second day he told me that it was inappropriate for me, as a woman, to hold such lengthy conversations with the male customers. The third day, I overheard him call his wife an retarded bitch in his back office. The fourth day I showed up in a jean skirt and he informed me that the vaccum cleaner had broke, and that I would need to get on my knees and pick up every sequin on the floor… IN A COSTUME SHOP. The fifth day, he decided to berate me in front of a customer. He came out and apologized to the customer for me being an idiot, and continued to talk down to me. The customer, a lovely older African American woman, asked to speak to him in private and when she walked proudly out of his office,  she  looked at me and loudly said, “MMM girl. Don’t you ever let any man talk to you that way again. If I was you I’d walk out of here right now. ”

The sixth day, he was extremely angry with me for embarrassing him. I tried to stay out of his way, straightening and re-straightening the costumes on mannequins, and organizing the piles of fake mustaches and prosthetic bloody noses into stacks. I tried hard not to let him see that I was crying when he told me he was surprised I was a college student because I “had to use a calculator to figure out the tax on a tuxedo rental.” Then I realized I was really in trouble when I went to the bathroom and found out, that unfortunately; my womanhood had struck once again at a very inopportune time.

I only lived a few blocks away, maybe a 5 minute drive there and back, but I knew he wouldn’t just let me run home to grab something real quick. So I decided to be honest. I approached him like I would a king or a really mean teacher- with my head down, and simply asked “I am having woman issues, would it be OK if I ran home for a second and changed clothes?”

He looked at me like I had asked him if I could take a body shot off of his man boobs, and said “No. You’re going to have to deal with it. You should have known that was going to happen today, or are you some sort of whore?”

At that point, I could no longer hold back my tears. I made my way to the bathroom and proceeded to have the biggest break-down of my 23 years. I cried audibly, and didn’t care if the customers could hear me. And then, I sat down on the dirty bathroom floor and called my dad. I told him I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t spend the summer being talked to like I was an idiot. My dad, being the amazing person that he was- told me to do whatever I felt I needed to.

I didn’t want to walk out and admit defeat; but the truth was- I was broken.

Looking back, it wasn’t just the job. At the time, I was heartbroken that a boy that I had been in love with for four years was now in a serious relationship. I was jealous that so many of my friends had graduated and were taking real jobs, some of them had even already moved away. The end of my college career was close, and I still had no idea what I really wanted to do with my life. So I packed up everything I could fit into my car, and I drove home.

It may sound rash, but it ended up being the best decision I ever made in my life.

The second I got home, I started applying for summer jobs with more tenacity than I had shown in my previous 4 years of college . I didn’t really want to stay at my parent’s house for 3 months, but I only had limited work experience, so I applied to jobs that I knew I could handle. Within a week, I had a handful worth of phone interviews with summer camps.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten that my voice mail was a rap that said – “Hi you’ve called Carissa and she’s not here, she’s probably out studying or drinking some beer, so leave her a message or call her back- but if you don’t then that is whack, wicca wicca wicca.”

Luckily, I eventually landed a summer job teaching dance at a camp in upstate New York, (which is really another story in itself) but it was amazing.

Until recently, I had forgotten how invigorating it could be to take things into my own hands. For so long, I’ve let myself fall into a pattern of “I’ll change things when the time is right.” I thought that it was fine to continue with the same  mundane jobs, the same happy hours, the same nightly patterns of watching Netflix on my computer… I figured that eventually, life would hand me the opportunity that I needed to make things right.

And in a way it did.

When I first found out I was laid off, I was devastated. I bawled until I couldn’t breathe. I concentrated on the fact that I would no longer have health insurance and I wouldn’t be able to see my therapist, AND OH MY GOD HOW AM I GOING TO PAY FOR MY $140 A MONTH YOGA CLASS???

And then I took a step back and realized that life had handed me what I had been asking for for so long. For the first time since my first senior year of college, I wasn’t tied down with a lease, or a boy, or life I didn’t want to walk away from. I was free. So I took it. I packed up my bags, spent a weekend with my wonderful inspirational aunts, and started applying for jobs with a vengeance.

That was 14 days ago.

Today I started my first day at a new job in a new city and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been doing comedy workshops and RIGHT NOW I’m writing for the first time in 6 months. I’ve been reconnecting with old friends and making new ones.

Long story short, I have no idea where this decision will take me, but I’m nothing but excited. I can’t wait for tomorrow. I freaking love the liberation of being free!

What the hell 2010? Where did you go? Last time I checked it was spring and I was getting ready for a long summer boat rides and camping trips…

Seriously though, I think I’m OK with the fact that my life has literally flown by before my eyes. At least October is over. October was a little bitch this year. Actually, looking back it was a bitch last year and the year before too. I think next year I’m just going to ignore October all together.

November though, now that’s a month I can deal with. There are so many things happening. So many things to take in. So many things I need to get done before the years over.

November, I hereby pronounce you my bitch. I’ll treat you well and in return you will keep me happy and busy and sane. OK? OK.

I really wanted to try to do that #NABLOHOMO thing, or whatever those letters are that you ambitious people  use to state that you are writing a novel in November. However, since October was an ungracious assholio that left me withering and crying on the floor begging to be hand-fed Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I’ve decided that I’m going to start with just trying to write a little something everyday. OK not EVERYday, but most days… either here or on the other place that I write. I’m also going to try to start reading blogs again. I know… this is all completely out of left field and seemingly drastic given my recent track record, but I’m going to at least try.

On top of trying to write and read like the scholarly person that I am, (HAHAHA) I’ve decided to set some other lofty goals for myself this November.

Movember: It’s a special time of year… A time that I love, not only because of the cause that’s behind the “mouvment,” but also because I really have an affinity for the mustache. Don’t get me wrong, they can be really creepy, but mostly they can be hot. Even when they do happen to be creepilicious, they give me something to laugh about, so basically the mustache is a win/win.

Creepy/Funny/Hopefully ironic mustache.

Good Mustache

(Huge thank you and a giant chest- bump to @Hipstercrite for reminding me that the above image of Burt exists, and so many other awesome things as well. I haven’t been able to comment much lately on anyone’s blog, but this lady’s blog has kept me very entertained the last few weeks.)

Anyway, I could go on about the mustache for days, and I probably will in an upcoming post, but this one is supposed to be about me.

As manly and handsome as they may be, I’ve got my own plans this Movember. Yes it’s true, I’ve decided that this month I will try my damndest NOT to grow a mustache. I know it will be hard, but it can be done. It’s no secret that I’ve been in a bit of a slump these last few months, but it’s time to pull myself together. It’s time I start brushing my hair, make a dentist appointment, and pull out my old friend Nair. It won’t be fun; it will be painful… but it CAN be achieved. If you want to donate money to me for every day that I maintain a womanly, un-ape-like appearance, I’ll gladly give a percentage of it to prostate cancer. Otherwise, I’ll just be doing it for the sake of woman-kind.

A Do-Run Run Run, A Do Run Run: My grandmommy always told me that “hate” is a strong word, so I reallydo  try to refrain from using it. However, I not only like to use the word “hate” when I’m talking about running, but I like to use it often, and usually in the sentence “I effing hate running.”  In fact, not only do I hate running, but I really detest it, and I’m pretty sure detest is a stronger synonym for the word “hate,” which makes the fact that I’ve decided to become a runner all the more Twilight Zone-ish.

I don’t actually know what has come over but I figure it’s time I set a fitness goal for myself. I keep saying that I want to get back to working out every day, but I can’t seem to find the ambition to do so. I figured that if I pick something completely ridiculous, like run a half marathon in three months, and announce that I’m doing it to the internet, that I will at least make an effort not to fail.

I started training for the run tonight. I’m afraid I didn’t get off to the best start.  I put on my running shoes, stuck my ear buds in, and took off down the block. I only got about fifteen yards before I realized I had forgotten to put on a sports bra, which you ladies know is a rookie mistake. I decided not to turn back, but instead turned up the volume on Paul Simon’s “Graceland,” and dance-walked my ass off. I swear, that Paul Simon makes my bootie shake somethin’ else.

So tomorrow I start running, for reals.

Not Drink:

…….

……….

*Crickets*

…….

Oh come on. Yeah right.

Well kinda.

Basically, I have decided to refrain from drinking during the week. It’s already been over a month.. woohoo! I made a little deal with myself. Rather than spend money on bottles of wine, I’ve decided that for every week that I go without drinking, I get to buy 3 (or 4) albums on itunes. For now, I’m sticking with the classic rock genre. I’ve decided that there are too many bands out there that I appreciate well enough, meaning I’ve collected all of their “Greatest Hits” and “Essentials,” but I’ve never really taken the time to delve into their albums.

This week (so far) I’ve been pleasuring my earballs with the aformentioned “Graceland,” and George Harrison’s “All Things Must Pass.” If you have any suggestions of “must-have” albums, please let me know.

Alright, I’m spent. Thinking about all these things I’m supposed to do this month has made me really tired.

I miss your faces and am excited about rejoining the land of the living. (I’m also excited about watching “The Walking Dead,” again next week because that show is badass!)

Just when I thought I had hit a massive wall, the internets once again made my world seem a million times better. Thanks so much for all of the encouragment…. as always, you never cease to surprise me. (in a totally awesome find 2 prizes in the bottom of the cereal box sort of way.)

I really try to stay positive, and as much as I know it feels good to vent, most of the time I try to stay away from the serious stuff here on the old blogster. It’s not  because I don’t want to share these things, or because I’m afraid of straying too away from the funny, but I mostly refrain from talking about the personal stuff because it forces me to deal with it… and I spend a great amount of my time avoiding things in my head. I hope one of these days I will get around to really getting some of this stuff off my chest, but for tonight I’m going to continue avoiding it…

Speaking of, I’ve gotten back into listening to podcasts, and I feel like I’m learning so much. My roomie LA just got me into this podcast called “Stuff you Should Know,” and boy I’m realizing there is so much stuff I didn’t know. Like did you know that there are real life zombies? Or that there are people who literally dedicate their lives in these modern times to figuring out who Jack the Ripper was?  Or that the guy who originally started McDonald’s actually has the last name Kroc? Or that the Amish allow their young people time to run free and live with the regular people and that most of them return home? I actually already knew that last one, but only because of that Harrison Ford movie “Witness.” It’s a really great movie, but I really wish the Harrison Ford character had been played by Jeff Bridges.

In fact, I think you could really take any of those middle of the road old-ish guy actor movies and replace the lead with Jeff Bridges, and you would have an exponentially better movie.

Take “Pretty Woman” for example. Now put Jeff Bridges in Richard Gere’s role. Not the Starman Jeff Bridges, but “the Dude” Jeff Bridges. I bet he would have had a lot more fun with prosty Julia Roberts. Or what about Twister, one of my favorite movies ever? Can you imagine if Bill Paxton was played by hippie Jeff Bridges? As the tornado swept in and took out that outdoor movie theater, he would have been all- ” Fuck no tornado, that theater really tied the whole fuckin town together. Fucccckkkk man.”  Or I dunno. Maybe my old-ish man crush on Jeff Bridges is really getting out of hand. I can’t stop listening to the “Crazy Heart” soundtrack, and I’ve watched “The Fisher King” like 4 times this month.

Don’t worry John Cusack, you’re still my number one. I’ve watched Serendipity pretty much every night for the last two weeks as I was falling asleep. I don’t care what anyone says, cheesy as it is… “Serendipity” makes my heart beat. AND it also influenced me to read my favorite book of all time “Love in the Time Of Cholera.”

Wow, I’m clearly random tonight. I guess that’s what skipping out on blogging for nearly two weeks will do to a girl. I have this whole notebook of things that I’ve been jotting down that I want to talk about, and I’m going to try my damndest to spread it out over time and actually put up some decent posts, but so far, not so good.

In other randomness, I tried something this weekend that may have changed my life. (And no I’m not talking about cutting off a fish head, though that DID HAPPEN!) More about that later.

THE EYES KEPT BLINKING EVEN WHIST DECAPITATED!!!

You see, I grew up being completely obsessed with chocolate milk. Not the kind that already comes mixed up for you, but chocolate milk of the Nestle Quick powder variety. Even as a toddler it was my favorite. Before I could even say “Mommy,” I could say “chocolate milk.” Not really, but I did say “dark Nah” which was my word for chocolate milk.I can’t explain to you the level of my love for chocolate milk, but I can tell you it used to be right up there with ketchup. In fact, I even drink it differently than I drink other drinks. It’s like I drink it from the back of my throat instead of out of the front of my mouth. Never mind, that all sounds kind of gross.

Regardless, Chocolate milk is a very important part of my “World O’ Happy,” other wise known as the things that are my most favorite in the whole wide world.

At least 2 times a day until I was 14 I would pull up a chair to the kitchen counter, get my favorite light blue plastic cup from the top shelf, and pour 4 heaping spoonfuls of chocolately goodness into my milk. It would never fail that at least one of these spoonfuls would end up on the counter, stuck in the cracks for my parents to wipe up later. At some point in my early teens when it became clear to them that I would never become a clean scooper, Nestle quick was banned from my house forever. One day, I went into the kitchen to stir up my favorite poison, only to find that my powder quick had been replaced by the syrup.

Nomaam.com. Syrup chocolate milk just isn’t near as yummy. It doesn’t provide you with a mustache that has a real-life grainy texture. You don’t get the same lumps at the bottom of the glass that you can lick out with your tongue.

I bought the powder Nestle Quick for the first time in my adult life not too long ago, and was really disappointed to find that it just wasn’t the same. The magic was gone. It could be partially because I can no longer drink real milk, so had to mix my quick with a soy substitute, which is great with cereal, but it just doesn’t seem to mix well with powder. It really sucks donkey ass.

So this weekend, as LA and I were loading up on liquids to cure our hangovers as we headed out for a long day of fishing at my family farm, LA got really excited when she came across a bottle of YooHoo.

She’s all like, “OH MY GOSH, I haven’t had Yoohoo in like a million years, this stuff is like crack.” I’m like, “EWWWW, that’s like fake chocolate milk without milk in it.”

“YOU”VE NEVER HAD IT, HAVE YOU!?!?”

“Nope… Why would someone drink fake chocolate milk? It’s like that Dave Chapelle skit where that kid wants “sugar water purple” instead of Sunny D.

So she finally talked me into trying it. I woman-ed up and tried Sugar-water brown… and it was delicious!!!! I’ve spent the better part of this evening googling recipes to find out how to make my own version, since I’m poor and also because I like to make my own versions of these things. Turns out there is a reason I like it so much, and it DOES have milk in it.. kind of.

All the recipes I could find look like this:

• 1/2 cup instant chocolate drink mix (Nestle Quik is best)
• 1 1/2 cups nonfat dry milk powder
• 3 cups water

Ahhh the magic of chocolate milk is back.

And so am I. Mostly.

I’ll be getting back to the dares and my regular posts very soon. I’m still getting used to my new job which is a thousand times more busy than my last job, but in a great way. My8 hour day feels like 3 hours. It’s going to take a little getting used to.

I’m a talker. Especially once I get a little booze flowing through my blood. My friend (and soon to be once-again roomie) LA is also a talker.

Talker + talker+being really good friends=ridiculous conversations that a third party often cannot comprehend.

So the other night I met up with my friends LA and AW, and AW got to witness once again how when we get started talking- hilarious, incomprehensible conversation can ensue.

I guess he was really lost on what we were discussing, but rather than interrupt, he decided to take notes on some of the random quotes and bits of conversation so that he could ask about them later.

Today I received an email with his “notes,” on our conversation. I’m not sure if this will be as amusing to you as it was to me, but I figured I’d share and try to justify these little notes of his.

- She uses big words like…insatiable.

That’s all LA. When I’m drinking, I’m lucky if I can even say insatiable. I’m not sure what this word was used to describe. Quite possibly it was my insatiable thirst for wine. Or my insatiable thirst for John Cusack. Or maybe it was LA’s insatiable thirst for using big words like insatiable. Either way, I’m curious… can other words besides “thirst” be used after the word insatiable? Because I’m pretty sure the only word I ever use after insatiable is “thirst.”

- LA and CM talk about a lot of different stuff.

Ummmm yes we do… great observation though…

- What is a doppelganger?

Somebody obviously hasn’t spent enough time on Facebook the last couple weeks!! OK, I’m not too sure either.  Apparently it means an actor/actress that you wish that you looked like. Or that you had a dream about. Or maybe someone that if you were gay, you would totally go for…. because I saw quite a few really pretty famous people as my friends profile pictures. I was going to put up Frida Kahlo as my doppelganger, because of the mustache and all…

- Who is Nora?

So speaking of “doppelgangers,” I know I’ve mentioned like 30 times the night LA and I  hung out with Joshua Radin‘s band and I made out with the drummer… Well, it turns out they had been on tour with a certain Grammy winner in the past whom they desperately wanted to name drop.

Drummer boy: Oh my gosh.. wow, you look just like my friend Nora.

Me: ummm ok?

Drummer boy: NO really!!! Hey “bassist!!” Doesn’t she look just like Nora.

Bassist boy: ummm… I guess so? A little?

Drummer boy: Yeah, you smile like her. **nudge nudge You know Nora right? My good friend Nora Jones??

Me: ummm right.. (but make out with me lovah boy)

- Why wouldn’t they up-play that shit and get with high up girls instead of downplay that shit and get with us?

I’m not sure which one of us genius’s muttered this intelligent comment, but I’d put a million thousand bucks on the fact that it was me. In fact I distinctly remember repeating it at least three times so AW could write it down.

It’s simple really, but I’ll put it into English for you

Why wouldn’t they use their semi-level of faux-fame to get into nice bars where they could meet girls who would buy their starving artist-asses drinks, rather than hang out with 2 girls who took them to the dive-iest (Adairs) bar in Dallas, and needed all of our drinks bought for us?

- Whoa whoa…so this is the night you bled on ____’s bed right???

I’m not sure why this particular story was brought up… maybe we were discussing something similar that happened to one of us more recently but I’m not sure if that even happened. It is actually a story that I have already shared with you…

-Carissa! I look at porn sites ALLLL the time! Are you kidding me?

I think this one is pretty self explanatory. I think AW just wanted to write this note to put in his spank bank for later.

-Let’s talk about love.

OK this one was all me. But before you write me off as some cheese-poof who likes to “talk about love” with her girlfriend’s on a Friday night over a bottle of wine- let me explain. I was trying to think of a story for this show I’m doing that has “love” theme. Since my experiences with “love” aren’t, for the most part, romantic… what we talked about next was all sorts of funny and also kind of sad.

-That’s what real rappers do, playa!!!

Have I told you yet of my dreams of being a world-renowned rap-star? Well, I have them. I know it will never happen, but I even have a rap-star alter ego named Kimbernisha. You’ll have to meet her one day. Anyway, I told you yesterday how I went to see Four Day Weekend’s comedy show. I loved it all… except for the part where they rapped. Don’t get me wrong, they did a great job improvising rap, but there moves were a little lacking. Ever since I saw Timbaland last week, I’ve been spending much of my down-time trying to imitate the rapper’s groove, which I demonstrated to my friends before I made this comment.

-Rap just got me off!

Yeah, I got really into that shiz!! I mean not literally, but I was really spent afterward.

___

In other news, I want give a shout out to one of my favorite blogs who is ending his project soon. If you haven’t checked out the 100 girls-100days project, I implore that you do so now. I’m really sad that it’s almost over. Start from the beginning and read your way through. That’s the way I do it. He may seem like kind of a dick at first, but overall, the dude seems really genuine and he’s extremely addicting.

Oh and tonight we have our Dallas happy hour!!! I’m so excited to meet some of my favorite bloggers in person!! WOOHOO!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sorry for the rant.

This being said, I would probably sell my DVD collection my kidney, if I knew it would get me a sure fire way to remove my unwanted facial hair. I seriously wouldn’t be surprised if I found out my real father is Eugene Levy, it’s that bad. And that’s just the upper part of my face. If I were to avoid my daily maintenance, I could beat out Daniel Day Lewis in a mustache growing competition.

I won’t even go into the details of the lowest region of my face. Lets just say there are days when I could walk into a circus sideshow, and get offered money to stay there forever.

It’s really not as bad as it sounds. When you’ve been plucking your eyebrows and been a Nair burn victim since the age of ten, the act of dealing with your hair becomes almost as routine as a daily shower. Some of my most vivid childhood memories include my mom holding me down and plucking my eyebrows, the mixture of her morning breath and the pain causing me to shout out expletives. I know now that she was just trying to save me from becoming the leper of my school. You learn to keep a pair of tweezers in your purse as well as one in your glove box. You make weekly trips to CVS for women facial shavers, for emergency use only. When ever asked about said razors, you don’t even have to think about lying before you automatically tell people that they are  specifically made for your feet. Then you realize having toe hair is no better than having a misstache.  Your body has grown an innate radar, that drives you straight to the closest nail salon for a quick wax when your wallet says its ok. And like clockwork, the first thing you do when you get in your car to go out in public, is pull down your mirror and turn your face to every angle in the sunlight to ensure there are no sun hairs.

As you can imagine, I have spent money on countless products, marketed at women just like me. They all spout their empty promises that I’ll never again be called Sasquatch or asked if I have a hormonal problem.

I recently made yet another purchase that caused extreme buyer’s remorse. And as a hairy woman, I feel that it is my duty to warn all the hairy ladies (and gay men) of the world of yet another product that fed me lies. I’m sure by now you’ve seen the commercials for Smooth Away.

I really should known the first time I saw a smooth away infomercial that those women were stirring up a huge crock of shit. First off ,I know by now that anything that has ever been remotely affective is NEVER painless and easy. Plus $20 is way too little to pay for something that needs to be as affective as a weed whacker. Nevertheless, I did not hesitate to put down the twenty dollar face wash I was holding in the CVS aisle, in lieu of my very own set of TWO Smooth Away hair removal pads.

On my way home I was giddy imagining my new hairless face. I grew excited thinking that in the very near future I could look in the mirror without recalling Bert and Ernie. I might go visit my Asian nail friends down the street just so that, for once; I wouldn’t have them above me cry out “ohhhh you’re hewwwey” before giggling and going back into her native language to tell her friend that they need to put a “no pets aloud” sign on the door.

As I poised in front of my mirror,I thought “This is gonna be like the difference between the George Clooney in “Oh Brother Where Art Thou,” and the George Clooney in “One Fine Day.”

After prying the plastic open with my teeth I started reading the directions. It all sounded easy enough. I got a little nervous that it said for “best results the hair should be no more than 1/4 inch long.” Oh well, so it won’t work on my legs. My face is my main concern anyway. After two attempts I was finally able to stick the applicator pad on the applicator without wrinkles. This had to be perfect. But I couldn’t help thinking that the pad looked awfully similar to the sand paper I use for my decoupage “art.”

Sandpaper

also sandpaper?

Well now let’s skip ahead after thirty minutes of rubbing circles on my face. I quickly found that whomever had created the product, filmed the commercials, and written the instructions,  had either never actually used the product, or are all currently running around with fire in their britches, and I don’t mean herpes. Though I do wish a bad case of mouth herpes on anyone employed by smooth away. Heed my warning, If it looks like sandpaper, it most likely works like sandpaper.  The exfoliating hair removal pad had left me with a baby-powder-like layer of skin on my face. And I still looked more closely related to a gorilla than a lady. Also, it wasn’t easy or painless. I had to put quite an effort into removing all my skin.

I hope you take my advice and, at least for the time-being, stick with your facial razors and tweezers. I’ll keep you updated on how my next attempt at hair removal goes, when I order Finally Free.