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The aftermath: Although I thought this would be the worst ever, and it was extremely difficult, I survived more than I thought I would. While I washed my face like 13 times, and I wouldn’t do it again…. It wasn’t near as bad as I thought it would be.

Keep them dares  (or truths) a comin!!!!

PeeeeEssss: Some of them Youtubers have left me some creepy Dares via Private Messages. I think I should switch to Vimeo … HELP!

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!

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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Actually I should rephrase that- I was reminded, once again why I hate drinking and then having to use the restroom at public events.

Port o potties are the devil.

No really.

Can you think of a more disgusting  area to experience a few seconds worth of having nothing between your special parts and bacteria-filled air?

In case it has been a while for you, or you live in a part of the world where port o potties garner enough respect for people not to take advantage- I’ll go into a little more detail about what the state of the port o potties looked like outside of the football game.

To begin with, people seem to lose all inhibitions when they are in line for a port o potty. I think as a rule people lose about 4 levels of class when they are waiting in line for a bathroom after drinking- but for a port o potty they automatically drop to  about a level 8…1 being the classiest, 10 being a contestant on Jerry Springer.

For  example, there was a very drunk girl behind us who was continuously yelling at people to hurry up.

“I’m 34 years old people! 34!! I can’t hold it like the rest of you.. Hurry UP! Respect your elders!!”

At one point, after vehemently criticizing my friend for smoking menthol cigarettes, she grabbed the cigarette from my friend’s hand and started smoking it. And she had a very large something gross on her lip. Ewww.

The line was never shorter than a twenty minute wait. After my fourth beer or so, I was pretty much just drinking one beer, then going to wait in line so I wouldn’t have to do the “pee dance,” or worse- do the “peed in my pants dance.” The port o potties were on a slant so that the corners of the stall were at least 5 empty beer cans deep. Of course you cannot flush a port o potty (unless there is a secret button that I don’t know about??) so the stench was just awful. After only a few hours, there wasn’t any toilet paper to speak of, so the smarter people were taking paper towels in with them, and presumably just tossing them onto the floor. There was also no sink, so I couldn’t look at a person without imaging a layer of gunk on their hands.

As bad as this sounds, the worst part of the situation was the layer of people’s business that was all over the floor… and on the seat.

Even early in the day, it was apparent that people were unaware of where their pee was going, but once it got dark, it became a bajillion times worse.

This is a particularly sensitive subject for me, as I will admit that I have had my own problems in this particular aspect of using a port o potty.

I’m not  proud of this moment, but I have shared way worse information about myself, so what the hell.

It was a few years ago at the local St. Patrick Days parade. I was in a very long line, and had been waiting for close to twenty minutes. The urge was really starting to get to me and I was getting into that crazy state of mind where I was no longer thinking about what I was saying or doing. The only thing that was going on in my brain were visions of waterfalls and swimming pools, and toilets. Shiny clean white toilets with candles lining the sink nearby.

As I got closer to the front of the line, I noticed that one port o potty had a slight river flowing out from the small opening at the bottom. After a few seconds of watching it flow, I started tapping nearby strangers shoulders and goofily pointing to the port o potty that was leaking. I was quite tipsy at this point and probably started yelling phrases like “That girl is peeing the Amazon and missing toilet!!” I was partially jealous at the amount of liquid that this girl was emitting from her body when I wanted nothing more than to have my turn, but the more abrasive part of myself was content with laughing loudly at the fact that she had so obviously miscalculated her squat.

As she exited the bathroom, the crowd started laughing and attempted to give the girl high-fives,  but she ran away in what I can only imagine, was a drunken shame.

Well you know what they say, karma’s a bitch.

When I finally got my turn, I went into the stall and had to deal with the difficulties of being a girl in a bathroom where sitting down would be an eternal sin. By this point I had to go very very badly… Add in the logistics of squatting in a very enclosed space where there is nothing to hold on to… and the odds are against you.

I guess I must have used a little too much power and simultaneously pulled  my shirt down a little too far as I put my hands on my knees, because what happened in that little box of filth was enough to send anyone into a fit of tears.

Yes, it’s true.

I somehow peed my shirt. The entire bottom half of my shirt was wet, and I had no sink in which to play it off as water. And by making myself the center of attention by making fun of the river pee-er, there was no way I could walk away unnoticed.

So you can see why, after my port o potty pee fail, I really try to avoid them at all costs… for more reasons than one.

Excuse me while I go hang my head in shame.

Yes, yes, yes… Light the fire works, sound the victory bells, pour the champagne…

Wait! I’ll just drink from the bottle, thanks!

Because it is a truly momentous occasion.

Not only did I actually go to through the entire day without breaking anything, with the exception of a picture frame in my car and 2 coat hangers….

It’s true!!! I got my first blog award from Candice over at That’s Tangly. Which means a ton to me considering her blog is one of my absolute favorites and she is hilarious to boot…but it means even more to me now that I know she likes me back!! Thank you, Thank you, thank you!!!

But seriously, if you haven’t stopped by That’s Tangly, you need to, right now. She hails from the mysterious island (or mysterious to me because I have never been anywhere and know nothing about geography) of New Foundland, an aspiring travel writer, whose posts are often funny, often beautiful, and always entertaining.

My first duty is to hand out this award to 3 other bloggers who I find Kreativ and such. Feel free to pass it over- I know some of you have been blogging forever and probably have thousands of awards tucked away in your closets, but I am just getting started and really admire what you guys do! I know I only recently started following you, but I  have no idea how I went this long without reading about your lives! And don’t think me a stalker, but I’ve gone back and read lots of your archives, so I feel like I’m really starting to know you. And now that I’ve got my creepy mccreeperson moment out of the way….

Without further ado:

Belle & Nel – These girls both write hilarious yet extremely honest posts. I am constantly looking forward to reading their posts, and I am constantly checking their site. I love how they play off each other, and they make me want to start a blog with my best friend. And also be theirs!

Blogs are for losers- Sherri is one of the pee in your panties funny/amazingly strong/makes ya think bloggers I’ve ever come across. After I read her posts I laugh my ass off, then I sit back and ponder how profound that just was. Her blog kind of makes me feel like I do when I’m watching a Scrubs episode… and trust me, that’s a good thing.

Lost in thought -  I only recently came across Meg’s blog, but I can already tell I’m gonna be a long time follower. She is so sincere, very funny, and she really likes puppy dogs- which automatically makes her a winner in my book.

So check them out! Now! But wait… I’m supposed to complete duty number 2, which is to name 7 facts about myself. A couple days ago I named 100 things about myself so I’m pretty sure you don’t want to know anything else… Too bad for you! Or just go ahead and check out the blogs mentioned above!

1. When I was young, I really wanted to be an actress. I even begged my mom to take me to Hollywood. I threw a few massive fits when she said it wasn’t going to happen.

2. Free Willy was the reason I wanted to be an actress. I don’t know why, but after I saw that movie I was bound and determined.

3. I once talked to Willy Nelson for nearly an hour in a vintage shop. We tried on scarfs together and talked politics. He even rubbed his butt against mine.

4. I didn’t even know it was Willy Nelson until he left and the guy who worked there offered me a signed cd.

5. When I was in Jr. High I went through a phase where I was severely obsessed with the sixties. I wore mostly all vintage clothes, listened to the Beatles, and decorated my room with black light posters.

6. A few months ago I made out with Joshua Radin’s drummer after a show. This is actually really lame,  and he probably doesn’t even remember,but I feel like it brought me closer to Josh Radin… who is one of my favorite people on the planet.

7. I have the worst sense of direction on the planet. I can’t read a map, and I can never remember how to get anywhere. I am also not very observant, and even if I’ve been to your house a hundred times, there’s a good chance I’ll ask you to come outside to help me with something. I’m really just making sure I’m at the correct house.

Alright folksters, Happy Hump day!

Not only is it Friday, but I get to leave work at noon today to head to Austin. The only thing that could make this better would be if it were  a payday Friday, and if I didn’t have to drive 4 and a half hours just  to get to Austin.

There is one other thing that’s kind of been bothering me today.

(I almost told this as this week’s TMI story, but realized it was more of a FML tale. So, at least for today- consider it FML Friday.)

I was in the restroom at my house last night, doing my business, when I noticed that my feet were wet. Wet feet in the bathroom are never OK, unless someone has recently exited the shower. (We all know that guy who doesn’t pay attention care where his pee might fall.)

After I had successfully finished my business, I dried off my feet, and bent down to get a closer look at the floor.

Oh. No. The water was coming out from the bottom of the toilet.

I have seen this before, and the outcome is never good. And believe me, I know. I’m the queen of toilet incidents.

The first time I saw water leaking from my toilet, I was a junior in college. I shared an apartment with two other girls, and we were all at the peak of being college alcoholics. I had noticed for a while that our toilet had a little wiggle to it. Every time you sat down you could feel the base rocking, just a little bit. Just like in my current bathroom, a little bit of water would escape from the bottom whenever we flushed. I can only assume that it was damaged by a combination of our drunkeness, and our asses.  Because when you’re a drunk- you have a tendency of just “plopping” down on the toilet with no abandon.

We have to remember that toilets are practically just made out of thick  glass. You have take care of them. You can’t just put anything down them. And you definitely can’t throw all  100 -and- something lbs of yourself down backwards onto the seat of the toilet in a drunken stupor.

Which is exactly what I did.

We had at least ten people over at the time, (because you never do stupid drunk things when you get dropped off at home by yourself) and to be honest, I was really way too gone to remember all the horrible details. All I know is that at some point during the night, I stumbled into the bathroom. I’m not sure if I was actually trying to sit down, or if I slipped on the bath rug and fell into the toilet- but either way it happened.

My fat ass broke the toilet at the base.

Like I said, I don’t remember details- but the way I’ve heard it, (and believe me- I’ve heard all sorts of versions of this story) I ran through a living room full of people  with my pants down around my ankles, ran into my room, dove head first onto my bed, missed, and landed on the floor with my bare ass facing a room full of very confused people.

Next thing they knew, water was gushing into the living room. I don’t know what happened next, but from what I hear- I cried in my bedroom while all of my wonderful friends cleaned the mess. I do know that the carpet had to be replaced and there were giant fans airing the place out for about a week.

That could be a funny story to look back on and laugh about later.

Except…

A couple years later I moved to a new city for work and I was living alone.  I didn’t have many friends  yet, except for a group of very fun, very loud gay boys (who I love to pieces.) One night, after about 6 Mi Cocina Mambo Taxis- we went back to my one room loft apartment, mostly because I didn’t care if people smoked inside.  I guess I should mention that my toilet at this apartment also had a shaky base.***

We were all extremely toasted and playing game of Cranium. I had to pee very badly, but wanted to hurry so I didn’t miss anything. I ran to the bathroom, and attempted to pull down my pants on the way there to save time. As I approached the toilet, I slipped backwards.

And Yes.

I fucking broke the second toilet of my life.

This time I cried in the closet while the gays, very thoroughly, cleaned up the flooding bathroom.

So now you know why a little leak at the bottom of the toilet can really freak a girl out.

We all know bad things happen in threes.

***ok, i admit it. the second incident didn’t involve a shaky base. it was a brand new toilet, in a brand new apartment. my fatass simply broke it. i have no excuse.

F.M.L.

I’ll  leave you with a little more FML this lovely Friday, because you know how I can completely understand body hair issues…And also GloZell is hilarious!

Happy Friday yall!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Congratulate me on a wasted weekend.

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

I picture myself giving my Academy Award acceptance speech, and  receiving kisses of congratulations from John Cusack and James Franco. I see myself as a guest on This American life, and afterward Ira Glass takes me out for a picnic dinner where his melodic voice puts me in a trance by telling me his own life story.  Whenever I drive, I imagine that my life is a movie- and whatever song is on in the background determines the reason that I am driving, in this particular scene of the movie. In fact, right now I’m imagining  myself eating a big bowl of pasta instead of this freezer-burned lean pocket that I have doused with Tabasco sauce in order to make it semi-edible. I basically pride myself on being able to daydream myself out of any situation.

At night, it is a whole other story.

I rarely “night dream,” probably because when I go to sleep- I have usually passed out from ambien, benadryl or wine…

But when I do dream at night, my brain seems to lose all sense of humor, creativity, and variety. It probably means something ominous, but I never have happy dreams. I have never dreamt that I was flying, or that I’ve won the lottery. Nope. My brain seems to only have 4 dreams on the dreamreel that it enjoys torturing me with- time and time again.

The first and least scary, is the very common “teeth falling out” scenario. Sometimes this dream plays out like that episode of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” where Charlie loses one tooth, then  keeps pulling them out just to see if he can. Other times I will be eating something in the dream, and I notice a gritty feeling in my mouth. I spit and realize that my teeth are slowly crumbling into bits that feel like sand. I’ve heard that these dreams can mean that I’m feeling guilty about something or that I am not in control of a situation in my life… and suppose either of these interpretations could ring true.

I also tend to dream about life in a  post-apocalyptic world. I used to have tornado dreams all the time, where the wind would lift my body as my fingernails dug into the earth in an attempt not to end up in Munchkin land. In more recent years, the disaster has progressed from mere windstorm- to total destruction of the entire earth. Usually in this dream I find myself in a building with a few random people that I have known in my life. We are drifters and are the only people left on  earth. Sometimes we venture out in groups through the fire and smoke filled streets to try to find a rat to munch on. Buildings are falling everywhere and sometimes I think I see a glimpse of one of my parents or a friend. I usually wake up around this point in a panic…

Another dream I have more and more often lately- is the one where I am back in high school or college, and I have no idea when the last time I went to class was, or where any of my classes are. I have been out of school for five years and I still convince myself in my sleep that I have missed 3 exams and there is no possibility of my getting to graduate. I also wake up from these dreams in a panic; but it is the best feeling in the world to realize that instead of missing a semester of school and not knowing where I’m going- I have to go to work, and have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with my life.

The fourth recurring dream is by far the worst. I’m kind of embarrassed to tell you about it, even though it has never really happened in real life. Here goes. I have these awful nightmares where I am at work or some other public place and I have to go to the bathroom really really bad. To be clear- when I say “go” to the bathroom, I do mean go go to the bathroom. In these dreams, the urgent feeling suddenly comes to me and I am filled with great fear.  I can hear my co-workers calling my name as I rush by, knowing that something is terribly wrong. Just as I open the bathroom door, I know it is too late. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination, but the scenario always ends the same. Someone comes to check on me, and I have to tell them the truth. Even in my dreams I know that there is no escaping walking into an office smelling and looking as if I just took a swim in a sewer without anyone noticing. I always wake up from these dreams  amazed that I don’t  have to go go in real life.

I’ve tried looking up what the significance of this dream in numerous online dream dictionaries to no avail. I suppose it could just be a warning to me about whatever shitstorm is coming my way. Let me know if you are a dream intrepeter and can solve this little mystery.

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.

I don’t know why I have such a hatred for these beastly animals. I think it may have something to do with the fact that every single day I come home, and the cup of water that I leave by my bed every night (bc I’m allowed to do that) is knocked over by one of my roommate’s cats who tried that head in the cup of water thing. I am telling you first hand that it is not cute finding water spilt all over my book, daily.

Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that last week I came home to find a cat locked in my closet, and I still haven’t been able to rid my clothes of that putrid nasty ammonia  smell of cat pee.

Or maybe the feeling comes from the time, years ago- when I came home to find my college roommate’s cat on the floor of my bedroom, pawing my Beta fish, which had been in a bowl on the very top bookshelf. My roommate, by the way; kept her Beta fish out in the open on the kitchen table- and it never got almost eaten.

It could just be from the fact that it really makes me mad that cats don’t let me hold them. How can an animal be considered “cute” and “a great pet” if it won’t even cuddle with you?If it won’t greet you at the door and pee on your foot in excitement?

Blerg, now I really miss my dog- Princess Stella Rosita Devito Tootsie Bertha Brown.

My Stella Bear

Now that is a cute animal. I’ll post some really abnoxious videos soon.

Now  PLEASSEEEE quit with the kitty posts!!! I’m losing my mind!!!!

And I do have a heart, by the way. Feel free to email me cute  forwards of dogs, monkeys, rats, snakes, zombies, or poop. I enjoy all of those.