Workin Girl..
I got the job. Came home Wednesday night went to my second interview on Thursday morning and left with a job. I actually started on Friday and I am so excited about it. The guy I'm working for isn't too much older than I am. I get to run around town all day, they aren't overly worried about time clocks so long as I get my 8 hours in and there is something different to do every day of the week. So far so fuckin great. But then again.. it's been only one day.
- posted by Carrie @ 4:48 PM|

 
Panty Woes...
1) I bought a pair of black thigh highs to wear one evening while on Bourbon Street. There wasn't any place really to slip them on so we found the side of a building with a little niche in the side. Rachel, AJ, Sebastian and Gabriel formed a wall in front of me and I stood behind them against the wall enclosed between my friends and the protrusions of the building. I had slipped off one boot, slid the thigh high all the way up and was just pulling off my second boot when I glanced at the "wall" protrusion next to me. And glancing back at me through the full-length glass window were about six people in the restaurant all in absolute fits of laughter. I smiled..shook my head.. told my friends they might as well just let everyone see.. It could be worth beads. I slid the next thigh high up, but my boot back on.. and curtsied to my audience in the restaurant window.
2) I was very drunk, I will get into the extreme details of my drunkenness in the next entry, but suffice it to say I was at the point where vision was fluid, words were flowing and walking was fumbled. Stupid thigh highs didn’t want to stay up. Well, one of them didn’t want to stay up. And I have a vague memory of skipping down a dark street while trying to hold up said nylon. Then the memory fades a bit, but I believe I ended up resolving the problem of one dangling thigh high by pulling the other one down and just letting them droop over the top of my knee high boots while I continued skipping down the road. Rachel tells me some guy asked how much they would take for me. I still don’t wanna know what the asking price was.
3) In constant struggle with the stupid nylons I ripped one, gave myself a nice run up the side of it. Upon our return to the house from Bourbon Street I told Sebastian to make me punk and put great holes throughout both stockings. It sounded like such a great idea, (please remember, EXTREMEMLY drunk). On his knees he ripped and ran my brand new nylons that had caused me such trouble already this evening. After he had assured me that it was positively perfect we ran off to the bar just down the street. I have no clue how much time passed, but I do know I ended up in the bathroom, in the bar, in a tiny stall that barely gave room to sit down tugging off the stupid things while trying to stay standing upright. Those horrible evil things that caused such havoc ended up in a pile either beside or in the toilet. And I put my shoes back on the wrong feet.

- posted by Carrie @ 10:51 PM|

 
Setting the scene...
It's one huge house separated into two separate homes with a balcony that connects them in the front. Rachel was sleeping in the second story bedroom with the balcony in the front of the house. I had opted to go out with the guys as it was my first night in New Orleans and I wanted to party. And party I did. Great fun.. absolute blast. But at 1AM I wanted to go home. Sebastian, AJ and Gabriel are still partying it up, but as Rachel's brother he considered me his responsibility. So, we jumped into a cab and drove the 7 minutes back to the house. We forgot to get the key from AJ. No big deal, Rachel was just upstairs and I didn’t want Sebastian to miss the fun on my account. I hop out of the cab with instructions from Bastain to call him if I can't get her to wake up in the next 10 minutes. Sounds SOOOO easy.
She didn’t wake up. My finger hurt from ringing the doorbell and my hand was throbbing from the door busting pounding I was now resorting to with my fist. I can't believe she doesn’t hear me. Sebastian was back at the club and didn’t hear his phone ringing. Sirens are going on all around me and I am this little blonde chick making a HUGE racket that I KNOW is waking up everyone but the person I want it to. Plan B... Let's get in the backyard and try that door. Okay.. nix plan B.. gate locked and fence is a 7’ high wooden slab. But hey! There is a window to the bedroom she is sleeping in.. Let's throw pebbles at it. Don't know exactly how pebbles will be heard when a battering ram against the door isn’t, but I'm getting desperate and I have to pee. Let's face it.. I'm a chick.. and I throw like a chick.. And I don’t want to break their windows, so I'd say nine times out of ten the pebble hit the house beside the second story window. And 7 times out of ten that pebble came back down to hit me in the head. Fuck the window.. fuck the pebbles.. I have to pee, its getting cold and people are starting to look out their windows. Good! Freakin call the damn cops on me!! Maybe they can wake her up. Screw this damsel in distress shit.. I'm going over the freakin fence.
Thank GOD I wore jeans and a jacket. But I still have no idea where I found the strength to pull myself up and over the fence. Once on the other side of the fence I run to the back door.. I knew it was locked, but when you are in a situation like that you hope for small miracles. It's been about an hour and half since Sebastian dropped me off. I sit on the patio chairs hoping they will be coming along soon. About 15 minutes later I realize it's colder than I thought and I need to get moving. I head to the gate with the intentions of propping it open so I can walk out front. Did I mention I'm out of cigarettes at this time? The gate won't open. I saw Sebastian open it earlier, so I pull out my flip phone and use the light from the screen to study the workings of the gate. Still, no open. I look up.. Second story window open.. Nothing to try to climb up, because by that time, I was ready to take climbing lessons. Behind me is what looks like a shed, small miracle.. it's not locked. I step inside hoping to find a blanket or something. Phone open for light I begin to explore hoping I don’t meet up with any of the great bugs I know dwell inside. The small light reflects off something shiny and white.. backing up and getting my senses together I discover a washer and a dryer. Cool.. Clean clothes... Both empty.. Then things really come clear and I look up at the ceiling for the light I KNOW has to be there. And then for the light switch located directly next to the door. Yeah okay Okay.. It's cold, I have to pee and I'm absolutely alone...I am not thinking clearly.
I flip on the light and find the sleeping bag that was on the shelf right in front of me. I unroll the sleeping bag and slide it up around me, then sit down on the patio to wait. 2 hours later I wake up. I don’t know if anyone has made it home or not. But I still can't get out the gate and I really don’t want to jump it again. I bang on the back door, call all the phone numbers I have then resort to throwing the beads I had gotten that night into the open window with the hopes that someone is laying in the bed and I can peg them in the head. In fact I am hoping I peg someone in the head..I'm annoyed, cold, and desperate to pee!! A sound comes from out front and I try to peek between the cracks to see who is coming. Gabriel is home, without Sebastian or AJ. It seems we all got separated.
"Let me in." Says Gabriel
"Let me out!!" Says Me
Gabriel jumps the fence and asks me where the ladder is? A Ladder??!??!?! Nope.. didn’t see one of those. He goes back over the fence to the neighbor's yard where he finds a ladder. He needs my help now, it's a big ladder. After a few minutes of plenty of noise that I am sure will bring the cops that I would welcome with open arms, a ladder begins to appear over the top of the fence.
"Grab it!" He says, as I jump in the air to reach the ladder that is angled at least 3 feet above my head. Well that's not gonna happen. Ladder clatters down into the back yard and Gabriel springs back over the fence. We adjust the ladder directly under the open window. It's one of those great extendable ladders...you know.. one of the ones that won’t latch? Yeah. So I get to hold his weight on the ladder as he climbs up and dangles with his feet out the window for a good 45 seconds. Doesn’t sound like a long time, but it's been 4 hours since I was dropped off, haven’t had a cigarette in 3 and half hours, it's really cold, I still have to pee and my salvation is laying 3/4 the way in a window with just his feet sticking out like the witch who just had a house dropped on her. Happily ever after... He comes downstairs and tangles with the locks on the backdoor for another 5 minutes. I get to pee and sleep.. and all is right with the world again.

- posted by Carrie @ 3:35 PM|

 
People...
Rachel....My best friend
Sebastian....Rachel's brother
AJ... Sebastian's boyfriend
Gabriel... AJ's brother.
Jace... Friend of Rachel's from back home
Chessie... Friend of Rachel's from back home

- posted by Carrie @ 3:22 PM|

 
Yeah...beads...Yeah...
1) Those pretty little colorful beads are heavy sonsofbitches when loaded into bags.
2) Those pretty little beads are heavy sonsofbitches when draped over your neck up to your chin.
3) Those pretty little beads are a great source of warmth when you thought it would be a good idea to wear a tank top on a cold night.
4) Those pretty little beads are painful when shucked from a float into your face.
5) Those pretty little beads turn children into commodities.
6) Those pretty little beads like to land in huge mud puddles where sweet natured children scoop them up and hand them to you covering your new leather fur lined jacket with black goo.
7) Those pretty little beads like to get stuck in the grooves at the bottom of hiking boots making a festive little toilet paper train wherever you walk.
8) Those pretty little beads are great for slapstick style comedy for women in heels who step just right while trying to strut down the street.
9) Those pretty little beads turn even the sweetest people into absolute whores who are willing chase a float and trample anyone in their way.
10) Those pretty little beads are NOTHING compared to the hot college guys with beers strolling down the street that catch your attention just long enough to turn your head and get yourself smacked in the head by the huge bag of beads someone decided to throw because opening the bag would have taken too long.
11) Those pretty little beads break your nails and hurt your hand when trying to catch them.
12) Those pretty little beads like to get hung up in trees just out of reach, only to fall and hit your head when you aren't looking.
13) Those pretty little beads get put in a special bag and stuffed into the overhead compartment of the airplane, where you hope they wont shift during flight and fall on someone's head causing a major lawsuit.

Basically... those pretty little beads suck... And their Mine ALL MINE!!
- posted by Carrie @ 2:56 PM|

 
Back
Despite the airlines many attempts to kill us we made it back and with stories to tell. I'm on my way to my second interview for a job I really want, so be patient. I will share everything with you all. And believe me...it's worth it!!!
- posted by Carrie @ 8:55 AM|

 
Countdown begins!!
5 hours I will be on a plane.. Us Airways leaves from Las Vegas at 11:50pm and on my way.. So.. I'm gone for a week. But when I come back I will have pics from Mardi Gras and I will be posting them on a free website album. I'll load a link to it here. And be prepared for more of Carrie's tips on traveling when I get back.
- posted by Carrie @ 6:20 PM|

 
Click...Click...Click..
Nothing helps you realize how annoying commercials are like a remote control without batteries.
- posted by Carrie @ 11:30 PM|

 
Glowly sheen of perspiration??
I understand hair glitter, I understand eyes and lips and even lotion. But someone please explain this to me!!

- posted by Carrie @ 8:34 PM|

 
Bites!!!
I need a job! Preferably something that will pay me cash each day and begin paying on the first day I start. Why? Because I am leaving for Mardi Gras in 3 days and I need a manicure, a pedicure and my eye brows waxed.
- posted by Carrie @ 2:40 PM|

 
Breathe...
Okay...everything is okay. I am no longer panicking and we are still going. But DAMN did that hit me hard last night.
- posted by Carrie @ 10:55 AM|

 
"Pop goes the bubble"
I knew something would happen. This whole wonderful trip to Mardi Gras, I just kept waiting for my bubble to burst. When we decided to go I expected to not be able to find tickets that were reasonable. And we did. I lost my job and thought, that's it, that's the end. And it wasn't. I began looking for a new job thinking they will need me to start the week of my big vacation. And they didn't. I thought hubby and I really can't afford to send me with enough money. And hubby still tells me we can. 3 days before we leave, abrupt rupture. And I'm sick to my stomach right now. This must be at least 1/6th of how a person feels when being stood up at the alter. I knew the air was strange tonight; At the bar, things just didn't feel smooth and complete. But the anticipation of the trip built and built and we got closer and closer still and I imagined things were gonna be okay, better than okay. Perhaps not as we originally planned, but wonderful none the less. Now I am hurt and lost. I always felt that the bubble would burst, I just didn't expect it to be from my best friend walking away from it.
Is it wrong of me to hope the plane crashes? It isn't that I want other people to suffer, not at all. I just keep telling myself that after all the possible mishaps and mayhem that have proceeded since purchasing these tickets, that God has some cosmic reason for not wanting me to go. As though he knows something is going to happen and doesn't want me there. I wish I could easily accept that reasoning and be okay with it all.
- posted by Carrie @ 3:42 AM|

 
Running a theory...
Lately there seems to be a trend running amongst a few friends of mine. New boyfriends seem to be popping up all around and sexual relations ensue. Absolutely nothing wrong there. My theory surrounds the oral stimulation of a man. Recently three women in my life have been told by their new significant others that they are the first woman that has ever been able to perform a blow job and finish said job. Now I don't know about other women, but I know personally it is wholly frustrating to go down on a guy and have him not finish. So when I have given blow jobs in the past and currently with my hubby, it is a sort of ego trip for me to 1) start and finish a man with oral sex & 2) be told that I am the only woman who has been able to accomplish such a feat. It is no secret that men deeply enjoy receiving head, something in fact most men will almost beg for. And I think that is where the manipulation is esconced. We (women) go down on a man and he orgasms from it, he then tells us we are the first to do such a thing and our egos swell. Every woman is enamored with the idea of doing something for our man that no one else has been able to. So, we believe him, and to keep the flow of ego moving we are more willing more often to perform oral sex on him. Do you see where I'm going with this? I propose that it isn't the man's fault that we are conned into giving more often than receiving, it is our own. He strokes our ego, we stroke his shaft. Perhaps it is a fair trade. But please gentleman, we completely understand the desire to elongate pleasure, holding out is not nice. If you have convinced us that we give the best head in the world, then don't play your little mind tricks to stop yourself from orgasm. Our jaws really do get tired.
- posted by Carrie @ 7:29 PM|

 
So smart...
I'm in my mom's office the other day my mother approached me with a question I never expected to hear. She was concerned about my close relationship with my best friend. We are affectionate and close. So my concerned mother asked me outright if I was having an affair with her. I laughed out right, mostly because I never thought I hear my mom refer to me in a bisexual relationship. I never gave a straight answer. I just laughed and told her that if I am having an affair then I am doing it right in front of my husband and with his blessings.

Two hours later, in the car with Rachel and my daughter, Rachel told an outfit I had picked out earlier was fabulous. My daughter giggled and exclaimed "My mommy is Fagulous!"
- posted by Carrie @ 12:43 AM|

 
Caught...
I love car dancing to music that you haven't heard in years. I especially love car dancing with your best friend and not stopping just because people are staring.
- posted by Carrie @ 12:36 AM|

 
Annoying...
Okay, let me just dispel some horribly pathetic ideas about life in my city. Yeah, there is a long stretch of road filled with lights and money and hookers and wonderful old stories about the mobsters who raised this city. However, construction has been on the boom in Vegas. We now have our own houses to live in AWAY from the bright lights. Our Children are no longer learning their numbers on a roulette wheel. Dance classes don’t all entail lessons on how to keep a three-foot tall sparkle explosion on your head while performing the can-can topless. And all our meals are not served in buffet lines. I do not now nor have I ever had a gambling problem, a drug addiction or felt the need to sell my body. Residents of Las Vegas live their lives just like any other city. We have our freaks, and we have our business people. We have our trash collectors and bus drivers and teachers. And we have our 12-year-old kids on drugs and alcohol. People, who live in this city, LIVE here. Our streets aren't clean, we have a good amount of crime, but we also have our residents; People who don't go near the strip for years because basically if you live in this city your life revolves around what you want it to. The Vegas life stereotype is tired. And so am I, brain is blocked. Must be all the lights, glitter, money in my pocket and topless dancers prancing outside my window.
- posted by Carrie @ 10:30 PM|

 
Watching a group of overly rowdy, very loud southern boys in the bar on Saturday night...

Me: (to Angel) Shit that guy is about to knock over that other guy's beer.

Struggle ensues as one guys elbow lands solidly into the top of another guy's mug.

Me: Oh DAMN!!!
Guy: What? Oh Hi, How you doin?
Me: I'm cool. Do I know you?
Guy: You just called out my name?
Me: I did?
Guy: Yeah I heard you yell out Damn.
Me: Oh, Okay Damn, nice to meet you, I'm Bitch.
Guy: (puzzled face) Bitch? Why? are you mean?
Me: Sometimes, but that isnt my real name.
Guy: They why did you say it was?
Me: Cause you said your name was Damn.
Guy: Oh..Uh..Okay.. I gotta go.
Me: (As he walks away) That was weird.
Friend of Guy: (Chasing after Damn) Hey Darrin! Wait up!
Me: Oh...Oops.

- posted by Carrie @ 8:24 AM|

 
God Bless Anesthesia!
I have this deeply ingrained fear of dentists. Perhaps its just the normal fear heard often enough to write at least 200 books on, or perhaps it has something to do with an early experience with nitrous and a truly scary cartoon on a dentist's wall. Whatever the reason or combinations thereof I tend to loose all rational thought at the high pitched whirring of any dental instrument. Unfortunately this has resulted in many missing dentists appointments and today, I am in pain, again. However, God has blessed one wonderful dentist office in my city. For once, an office with the word Tender in their name is not just a lure for uneasy patients. This office specializes in sleep dentistry. I know the name evokes all sorts of wonderful questions, comments and innuendos. I don't care. I walk in, they hook me up to an IV and I wake up without any traumatic whirring noises. No horrid smells of teeth being drilled into and none of the drastic gagging reflexes from ill used suction tubes. I wake up to no pain and I love it. I can sleep through a root canal, or a simple cleaning if I want. And there are plenty of you out there who know most cleanings are anything but simple. So today I blessing my new found dentists and their wonderful staff. These people let me sleep while making it possible for me to enjoy popcorn once again.
- posted by Carrie @ 7:55 AM|

 
Just now...
Rachel is sitting on Pole's lap as I attempt to complete a post. We are hungry. We dont know what we want to eat.....

Rachel... How bout Pizza?
Me.... Dont care.
Rachel... Let's get pizza that way we dont have to leave.
Me... Fine, just make sure you get me one with cheese.
Pole... I think it comes with it.
Me... (Reaches past Rachel to smack Pole upside his shaved head)

Dontcha just feel the need to do that at times??
- posted by Carrie @ 9:27 PM|

 
Just because...
So this guy posted a comment on my site. And I had to check out his homepage. And being perfectly honest, I laughed my ass off at the horrible vulgarities of it all. There really is some funny shit if you aren't weak of stomach, a midget or homo-sexual. Be warned, he doesnt hold anything back and definately has one of the foulest mouths I have ever read. But some of it's seriously funny shit that most people dont want to admit to. I don't feel comfortable adding him to my links because I myself am horrified at my own amusement at his site. So, take it with a grain of salt and laugh your ass off, you dont have to admit to it in the end.
Shits and Grins

- posted by Carrie @ 9:23 PM|

 
Common Link
Heading home from Karoake last night Me, Rachel and her new Beau (Pole) were listening to the radio. Not an uncommon occurrence while driving. The 80's station was on and the song "Hero" from the Footloose soundtrack was in full swing. Rachel and I began rocking out, laughing at ourselves and commenting on how we feel the need to run in place in some run down mill. Pole, who is considerably younger than both of us pipes up from the back. "This makes me think of Grover". We pause. And burst into giggle fits all over again. Not because his comment was so off the wall, but because all of us could picture an episode of sesame Street with Grover doing his furry blue feet running in place dance. Perhaps not the same episode, but the point is, we knew what he was talking about. And I love that. In this world where my daughter has no clue what a tape player is, or a record album, where she can't fathom using a phone with a cord attached, and will never know what it was like to play the original Mario Bros games, In this world of upward motion we seem to have a few constant common links. Children. My original Star Wars plastic toys aren't just collectibles anymore, My Care Bears, My Strawberry Shortcake dolls, My Little Ponies and best of all my daughter will always have Grover. Isn't it great that even though my 2 year old has 4 toy cell phones, she is still having conversations with the characters I loved best? That when she plays on the highest possible upgraded computer, she is building her imagination with the same playmates I had. It's nice to know that we still have these things to share with our children, even if the mode of interaction is highly advanced.
- posted by Carrie @ 8:20 PM|

 
Teetering...
So I am well endowed. I have big boobs. I am proud of them, as is my husband. On a general basis any shirt I wear exposes at least some amount of cleavage. That cleavage is often used as a target area for people throwing things. No big deal. But the other day, my daughter had found hubby's wallet and was playing with a credit card. I was proud. My baby girl should know all about credit cards. However, I was a disturbed when she crawled up onto my lap and began fiddling with the neckline on my shirt. She already has this fascination with boobs. In fact she will ask anyone about them. But when I asked her to stop she told me, Hang on mommy, I'm trying to swipe my credit card. With that said she yanked my shirt down and stuck the card in my cleavage and gave it one good swipe. So, should I be proud that she knows how credit cards are used? Or horrified that she relates my cleavage to a swipe machine?
- posted by Carrie @ 6:09 PM|

 
Sketchin...
So I have this little problem with focusing attention and being able to follow through on a single line of thought. So, I finally agreed to try some medication which has helped many people with problems like mine. However the pills are anti-depressants and anti-anxiety. So imagine my surprise yesterday morning when I wake up with this jittery feeling. And then it turns into a full out anxiety attack complete with hyper-ventilating and blood pressure spike. I could feel my blood tingling throughout my entire body. I'm in a full on panic, I wake up hubby who has no clue what to do, call my mommy who tells me to breathe into a bag and then call the 24 hour nurse line. I had all the effects of a bad drug trip and none of the happy hallucinations. Apparently, drugs are drugs whether prescription or illegal. Who know?!
- posted by Carrie @ 6:06 PM|

 
J-O-B
Got an interview tomorrow that I am really excited about. Apparently they need someone with my qualifications to start as soon as next week. I talked to them about my vacation and they said to come in and possibly it is something we can work around. So I am extrememly excited about it. I would love to have a job before Hubby gets home from his trip to San-dee-yeah-go. But.. who knows. For now I am spending time with my daughter and my family and my best friend. And other than the fact that I have to curb my shopping desires, I am at peace.
- posted by Carrie @ 5:59 PM|

 
quickie...
Need a Laugh?


- posted by Carrie @ 7:57 PM|

 
In-communicado...
The biggest problem with the internet world connecting people isn't the fear that the person on the other side is an in-mate learning computer literacy in some federal institution; it isn't the threat of identity fraud nor the reality of purchasing some false product and being taken for your entire life savings. It is the inability to really connect on the levels that we let ourselves believe we have. The nameless faceless medium of the world wide connection lends us false belief that we can be ourselves and find comfort from other people like us. But how can you really understand and know another person without even hearing their voice? Not being connected enough to know the inflections of general conversation, the sarcasm, or the teasing, the anger or soft tones of romance. I oft times joke with another blogger about color-coding our tones, blue for sarcasm, purple is teasing. But we spill our thoughts and concerns, and make these connections with people and sometimes you think they are real, but other times you know they aren't. Because here, you can tell only what you want known about yourself, or make up grand stories to make yourself more interesting. Sort of like a job interview where you don't have to show up, so you paint yourself into the person you want to be or really are. You create the resume on yourself that you want to share with that particular person. And even if you get the job, you never have to show up for that face-to-face liaison. The flaws you present can be calculated, and the jokes and quick wit can have a delay. My point is we want to know other people; we want to make that connection, especially with someone perhaps with a completely different lifestyle than we have. But we can't. You can know everything someone wants you to know here. But that comes with the hazard of not knowing if you are taking things as they were meant to be said or if you read into them using your own personality. There are so many ways to miss-communicate in this communication super highway. The personal can be as impersonal as we want it to be. This place is the truest contradiction.
- posted by Carrie @ 12:11 AM|

 
I'll have a rat meat sandwich, with extra hamster hair please.
Apparently someone in the marketing department doesnt see anything wrong with Degenerate Hamsters
advertising sub-sandwichs.

- posted by Carrie @ 11:34 PM|