About Me
- Name: Carrie
- Location: Denver, CO, United States
Unemployed and loving it! Every great ride has to come to and end and I need to figure out what to do when I get off this Ferris Wheel.
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A playground for my inner Ralph Wiggum.
Wednesday, February 25
"If his nose starts bleeding it could mean that he's picking too much...or not enough."
!CAUTION! The post you are about to read contains personal material and is really freaking long. Cheers.
My mom never reads my blog. In fact she has no idea what a blog is. I still felt the need to immortalize her birthday in my blog though. Hmmm....
Ponderatory Thinkeration--> Does this mean that I am a good daughter or just strapped for material? To find the answer, let us go back, waaaay back... To February 24th, the year is 1955*...
Denise J (Pierson) Davis is born in St. Vincents Hospital and thus forever alters the fate of the world!! Well... not really. Her birth did set in motion the events leading up to the creation of one very important...umm semi-important, well okay, unimportant (I do make a really mean sweet potato casserole, yeah!) person who would not be here today to write this blog if it wasn't for her.
Besides just giving birth to me** my mom has had a huge effect on how I turned out. She has always had her own style and outlook on life and I think that it has helped to make me the "unique" person that I am today. To better illustrate this, I shall give a few examples from our 22 year relationship of why i love my mom. And, of course... I'll make a list.
Example 1: My mom once lovingly told me that the first thought to enter her head as she first laid eyes on me after I came into this world was... "Oh god, I've given birth to a screaming purple snake!" Trying to not hurt my feelings, she quickly added that I got really cute about 15 minutes later. I actually think I would like to have that engraved on my tombstone. "Here lies Caroline, she came into the world as a screaming purple snake." Sweet.
Example 2: When I was a baby it took a long time for my hair to grow in and my mom would always insist that I had hair, it was just really hard to see. She got really pissed off when people would liken me to a cue ball or refer to me as the "cute little bald baby". She didn't mind so much when my uncle David would call me Kojak, she kind of got a kick out of that, but she would fiercely defend my transparent head of hair to anyone who questioned its existence. I learned at a very early age that my mom was somewhat delusional. More importantly though, i learned that she would always be there to defend me.
Example 3: I had a bit of a problem when I was about 3 or 4 years old. I was a serious nose miner and I must have had sensitive nostrils because the excessive digging would cause me to get nose bleeds. Whenever my mom would see me "going for the gold" she would calmly tell me that if I didn't stop it I would get a nose bleed. Time and time again I would not heed her warning and I would end up with a bloody nose. She would never pull that "I told you so" crap though. She would always just sit with me and hold a cold wash rag on my forehead until the bleeding stopped. I eventually got over my finger-in-nose problem once I started going to school and realized that I didn't want to be associated with the freak show kids (you know, the paste eater, the pants peer, the smelly kid, the nose picker). She never tries to make me feel bad about myself, even when I screw up and I will always appreciate that.
Example 4: I have to put this in because its probably one of the things that I am most grateful to my mother for. I will always be thankful that my mom named me after my two grandmothers rather than my two great grandmothers, which i guess was inevitable seeing as how she had already dropped that bomb on my sister "MARGARET LOUISE". Don't get me wrong, my two great grandmas were wonderful women that I wish I could have known, but I am ever so grateful that she chose to name me after my grandmas(Caroline and Gayle, you rock!). I should be really thankful thouhg that I wasn't a boy or I could've ended up as Randall Pierson Davis (I think I would have been a total wanker!). I'm glad I dodged that bullet.
Example 5: My mothers generous nature. When I was in college, many moons ago, my mom would always supply me with houseplants because I feel that plants always make a house feel more like a home and I loved gardening. Sadly, I am not blessed with the same green thumb as my mother. After four years of college and about 25 healthy housplants, its sad for me to say that there were no survivors. And even though she began to refer to the plants she brought on her visits to b-town as "lambs going to the slaughter" she would always bring me replacements for the corpses I created or send me back to school with more victims. I have better luck with outdoor gardens... rain helps if you forget to water.
Example 6: My mom has the most unique religious views of anyone I have ever met. Her Hindumedthodist-Catholic Shamanistic Wicca-Buddhism always helps her have a unique view on any sort of situation, be it death, marriage, money, or the way you treat other people. She has always influenced me to have a very open mind and not harshly judge anyone, although the ritualistic gerbil shavings are a bit odd.
I could go on and on about the ways in which my mom has positively shaped my existence, but I won't. People will stop reading my blog, if they haven't already. Let me just end with this... I want people to know how special my mom is because there are a lot of times when she doesnt feel special at all and there are people who judge her to quickly and dont see all the wisdom she has to offer. I dont know if i answered my ponderatory thinkeration or not. Some may think I plundered my childhood for material... possibly. Others (my sister) may think i'm a brown noser... i do have tendencies. And some people may have already fallen asleep or quit reading this blog around example #3... most definitely (bastards!). Whatever the answer, I do know that I enjoyed writing this blog and if my mom could figure out how to sign on to the internet I might have her read this.
Tune in for the next exciting episode:
"The Never Ending Story" or "The Silence of the Ferns" ...if you dare!!!
*(anyone with a basic knowledge of arithmetic should be able to figure out my mom's age. Its a good thing my mom doesn't read my blog or she would kick my ass.)
**(20 hours of labor, just giving birth? Ha! Again with the ass kicking)
!CAUTION! The post you are about to read contains personal material and is really freaking long. Cheers.
My mom never reads my blog. In fact she has no idea what a blog is. I still felt the need to immortalize her birthday in my blog though. Hmmm....
Ponderatory Thinkeration--> Does this mean that I am a good daughter or just strapped for material? To find the answer, let us go back, waaaay back... To February 24th, the year is 1955*...
Denise J (Pierson) Davis is born in St. Vincents Hospital and thus forever alters the fate of the world!! Well... not really. Her birth did set in motion the events leading up to the creation of one very important...umm semi-important, well okay, unimportant (I do make a really mean sweet potato casserole, yeah!) person who would not be here today to write this blog if it wasn't for her.
Besides just giving birth to me** my mom has had a huge effect on how I turned out. She has always had her own style and outlook on life and I think that it has helped to make me the "unique" person that I am today. To better illustrate this, I shall give a few examples from our 22 year relationship of why i love my mom. And, of course... I'll make a list.
Example 1: My mom once lovingly told me that the first thought to enter her head as she first laid eyes on me after I came into this world was... "Oh god, I've given birth to a screaming purple snake!" Trying to not hurt my feelings, she quickly added that I got really cute about 15 minutes later. I actually think I would like to have that engraved on my tombstone. "Here lies Caroline, she came into the world as a screaming purple snake." Sweet.
Example 2: When I was a baby it took a long time for my hair to grow in and my mom would always insist that I had hair, it was just really hard to see. She got really pissed off when people would liken me to a cue ball or refer to me as the "cute little bald baby". She didn't mind so much when my uncle David would call me Kojak, she kind of got a kick out of that, but she would fiercely defend my transparent head of hair to anyone who questioned its existence. I learned at a very early age that my mom was somewhat delusional. More importantly though, i learned that she would always be there to defend me.
Example 3: I had a bit of a problem when I was about 3 or 4 years old. I was a serious nose miner and I must have had sensitive nostrils because the excessive digging would cause me to get nose bleeds. Whenever my mom would see me "going for the gold" she would calmly tell me that if I didn't stop it I would get a nose bleed. Time and time again I would not heed her warning and I would end up with a bloody nose. She would never pull that "I told you so" crap though. She would always just sit with me and hold a cold wash rag on my forehead until the bleeding stopped. I eventually got over my finger-in-nose problem once I started going to school and realized that I didn't want to be associated with the freak show kids (you know, the paste eater, the pants peer, the smelly kid, the nose picker). She never tries to make me feel bad about myself, even when I screw up and I will always appreciate that.
Example 4: I have to put this in because its probably one of the things that I am most grateful to my mother for. I will always be thankful that my mom named me after my two grandmothers rather than my two great grandmothers, which i guess was inevitable seeing as how she had already dropped that bomb on my sister "MARGARET LOUISE". Don't get me wrong, my two great grandmas were wonderful women that I wish I could have known, but I am ever so grateful that she chose to name me after my grandmas(Caroline and Gayle, you rock!). I should be really thankful thouhg that I wasn't a boy or I could've ended up as Randall Pierson Davis (I think I would have been a total wanker!). I'm glad I dodged that bullet.
Example 5: My mothers generous nature. When I was in college, many moons ago, my mom would always supply me with houseplants because I feel that plants always make a house feel more like a home and I loved gardening. Sadly, I am not blessed with the same green thumb as my mother. After four years of college and about 25 healthy housplants, its sad for me to say that there were no survivors. And even though she began to refer to the plants she brought on her visits to b-town as "lambs going to the slaughter" she would always bring me replacements for the corpses I created or send me back to school with more victims. I have better luck with outdoor gardens... rain helps if you forget to water.
Example 6: My mom has the most unique religious views of anyone I have ever met. Her Hindumedthodist-Catholic Shamanistic Wicca-Buddhism always helps her have a unique view on any sort of situation, be it death, marriage, money, or the way you treat other people. She has always influenced me to have a very open mind and not harshly judge anyone, although the ritualistic gerbil shavings are a bit odd.
I could go on and on about the ways in which my mom has positively shaped my existence, but I won't. People will stop reading my blog, if they haven't already. Let me just end with this... I want people to know how special my mom is because there are a lot of times when she doesnt feel special at all and there are people who judge her to quickly and dont see all the wisdom she has to offer. I dont know if i answered my ponderatory thinkeration or not. Some may think I plundered my childhood for material... possibly. Others (my sister) may think i'm a brown noser... i do have tendencies. And some people may have already fallen asleep or quit reading this blog around example #3... most definitely (bastards!). Whatever the answer, I do know that I enjoyed writing this blog and if my mom could figure out how to sign on to the internet I might have her read this.
Tune in for the next exciting episode:
"The Never Ending Story" or "The Silence of the Ferns" ...if you dare!!!
*(anyone with a basic knowledge of arithmetic should be able to figure out my mom's age. Its a good thing my mom doesn't read my blog or she would kick my ass.)
**(20 hours of labor, just giving birth? Ha! Again with the ass kicking)
Tuesday, February 24
Happy Birthday Mom!!!!! I'm really, really glad you were born. I Love You!!!!
Monday, February 23
"Me fail English? That's unpossible!"
Why am I getting stupider? Wait , more stupid, shit I can't remember!
Today's Ponderation--> What is it that is causing the accelerating loss of knowledge that I have been experiencing lately and what might I do to stop it? Lets review some of the key facts:
Frightening Fact #1: I used to speak Spanish, almost fluently, not 4 years ago. I now know approximately 5 Spanish words.
F.F. #2: I once wrote a six page paper describing the craniofacial structure of a 12,000 year old human skull. Earlier today I attempted a blog posting that went something like this: Today was a day that was okay. Having a blog is sort of weird. It would be cool if there was more to do at my house. Work isn't very cool. That took me thirty minutes to write. I feel dirty even mentioning it here.
F.F. #3: I have greatly decreased my intake of knowledge and information and greatly increased my intake of alcohol and other "substances" since graduating from college.
F.F. #4: I won't be attending grad school for at least another year. If I don't do something soon, who knows what my brain will be like by then?
So, how do I keep from becoming a moron? I think I have a few possible solutions:
1. Relearn (is that a real word?) Spanish. Not only will this help me out in the job market, but I'd also fulfill my father's lifetime dream of me being able to communicate in Spanish with the waiters at Mexican restaurants.
2. Stop killing my brain cells. I need them. Obviously.
3. Instead of sleeping, I should start reading the dictionary.
4. Reread some of my college textbooks (my history of rock and roll book doesn't count) and maybe I'd actually get my moneys worth out of them as well.
Well, now that I've figured out a plan I can go play solitaire on the computer for three hours!! Yaaaaay!
Tune in for tomorrow's thrilling episode:
"Learning is Fun Duh Mental" or "Stupid is as Stupid Does"
Why am I getting stupider? Wait , more stupid, shit I can't remember!
Today's Ponderation--> What is it that is causing the accelerating loss of knowledge that I have been experiencing lately and what might I do to stop it? Lets review some of the key facts:
Frightening Fact #1: I used to speak Spanish, almost fluently, not 4 years ago. I now know approximately 5 Spanish words.
F.F. #2: I once wrote a six page paper describing the craniofacial structure of a 12,000 year old human skull. Earlier today I attempted a blog posting that went something like this: Today was a day that was okay. Having a blog is sort of weird. It would be cool if there was more to do at my house. Work isn't very cool. That took me thirty minutes to write. I feel dirty even mentioning it here.
F.F. #3: I have greatly decreased my intake of knowledge and information and greatly increased my intake of alcohol and other "substances" since graduating from college.
F.F. #4: I won't be attending grad school for at least another year. If I don't do something soon, who knows what my brain will be like by then?
So, how do I keep from becoming a moron? I think I have a few possible solutions:
1. Relearn (is that a real word?) Spanish. Not only will this help me out in the job market, but I'd also fulfill my father's lifetime dream of me being able to communicate in Spanish with the waiters at Mexican restaurants.
2. Stop killing my brain cells. I need them. Obviously.
3. Instead of sleeping, I should start reading the dictionary.
4. Reread some of my college textbooks (my history of rock and roll book doesn't count) and maybe I'd actually get my moneys worth out of them as well.
Well, now that I've figured out a plan I can go play solitaire on the computer for three hours!! Yaaaaay!
Tune in for tomorrow's thrilling episode:
"Learning is Fun Duh Mental" or "Stupid is as Stupid Does"
Wednesday, February 18
"Principal Skinner, I got carsick in your office."
Think on this!!!--> Is there such a thing as car karma? To help find the answer we will first see a brief educational film. Start the projector Ralph.
This film is brought to you by the letter "P" and the number 47.
"Okay doc, give it to me straight... how long does she have?"
-"Weeeell, sad to say its not looking too good right now. At this juncture, I'd say shes probably got three to six thousand miles left, give or take a few. Maybe longer if you drive real slow and give her some TLC."
{sob, sob, sound of nose being obnoxiously blown} "I feel like I'm to blame!! I forced her to go back and forth to Bloomington all those times... I drove too fast on the interstate... I never gave her premium... I... I..."
-"Whoa there!! Listen here, there's nothing you could have done different, she just getting old and you need to move on. Now I do have to ask, have you made any arrangements? Located a junkyard? Found a new car? Put aside any money? You need to start thinking about these things you know."
{pathetic sniffle, sniffle}"This is all too much. I just graduated from college and I don't even come close to making ten dollars an hour. I thought this car would be a good investment, but now it's dying on me and leaving me in the lurch!! Whatever shall I do?"
THE END
(Cue dramatic, slightly out of tune music)
Now that I've gotten that out of my system, let me delve deeper into this question of car karma. I do believe that if there is such a thing as car karma than it sucks. It sucks real bad. How many people do you see driving around in Hummers, BMWs, or other really nice cars that drive very defensively, always give the right of way, and have a generally "give peace a chance" type of driving style? I don't know about you but I have seen a whopping ZERO!!! This is not to say that all people who drive like the idiot spawn of Satan have nice cars, but the overwhelming majority of crazy shit that I have seen people do while driving has been done by people with really nice cars. Personally, if I was driving a vehicle that cost more than a nice two bedroom home, I would at least make an attempt to drive safely. I can't help but feel that there should be some sort cosmic balance to all of this. Why do good people have to drive bad cars? Can't we go to the mall without having to suffer the insane god complex of that woman in the Lincoln Navigator? Is it really true that most new luxury automobiles are being made without turn signals? When you purchase a Mercedes do you have to sign a paper stating that you will never let anyone over when they are trying to merge onto the interstate? Were these people forced to drive crappy cars in their past lives? I don't know the answers to these questions. I only know that when I'm basking in the glow of my "check engine" light and listening to the soothing thonkathonkathonka noise my heater makes, I cant help but wonder if in my next life I will be the crazy lady in the Lexus SUV threatening to ram your car if you don't turn right on red.
Don't miss tomorrows exciting episode:
"Driving Miss Crazy" or "You Can't Teach an Old Car New Tricks"
Think on this!!!--> Is there such a thing as car karma? To help find the answer we will first see a brief educational film. Start the projector Ralph.
This film is brought to you by the letter "P" and the number 47.
"Okay doc, give it to me straight... how long does she have?"
-"Weeeell, sad to say its not looking too good right now. At this juncture, I'd say shes probably got three to six thousand miles left, give or take a few. Maybe longer if you drive real slow and give her some TLC."
{sob, sob, sound of nose being obnoxiously blown} "I feel like I'm to blame!! I forced her to go back and forth to Bloomington all those times... I drove too fast on the interstate... I never gave her premium... I... I..."
-"Whoa there!! Listen here, there's nothing you could have done different, she just getting old and you need to move on. Now I do have to ask, have you made any arrangements? Located a junkyard? Found a new car? Put aside any money? You need to start thinking about these things you know."
{pathetic sniffle, sniffle}"This is all too much. I just graduated from college and I don't even come close to making ten dollars an hour. I thought this car would be a good investment, but now it's dying on me and leaving me in the lurch!! Whatever shall I do?"
THE END
(Cue dramatic, slightly out of tune music)
Now that I've gotten that out of my system, let me delve deeper into this question of car karma. I do believe that if there is such a thing as car karma than it sucks. It sucks real bad. How many people do you see driving around in Hummers, BMWs, or other really nice cars that drive very defensively, always give the right of way, and have a generally "give peace a chance" type of driving style? I don't know about you but I have seen a whopping ZERO!!! This is not to say that all people who drive like the idiot spawn of Satan have nice cars, but the overwhelming majority of crazy shit that I have seen people do while driving has been done by people with really nice cars. Personally, if I was driving a vehicle that cost more than a nice two bedroom home, I would at least make an attempt to drive safely. I can't help but feel that there should be some sort cosmic balance to all of this. Why do good people have to drive bad cars? Can't we go to the mall without having to suffer the insane god complex of that woman in the Lincoln Navigator? Is it really true that most new luxury automobiles are being made without turn signals? When you purchase a Mercedes do you have to sign a paper stating that you will never let anyone over when they are trying to merge onto the interstate? Were these people forced to drive crappy cars in their past lives? I don't know the answers to these questions. I only know that when I'm basking in the glow of my "check engine" light and listening to the soothing thonkathonkathonka noise my heater makes, I cant help but wonder if in my next life I will be the crazy lady in the Lexus SUV threatening to ram your car if you don't turn right on red.
Don't miss tomorrows exciting episode:
"Driving Miss Crazy" or "You Can't Teach an Old Car New Tricks"
Tuesday, February 17
I have a fever, and the only cure for that fever is more cowbell! Wait, actually the cure for my fever is more aspirin, but more cowbell would rock my socks off.
Tune in for tomorrows episode:
"Monday Night Fever" or "Look Who's Hallucinating"
Tune in for tomorrows episode:
"Monday Night Fever" or "Look Who's Hallucinating"
Monday, February 16
"My cat's breath smells like cat food."
I wish I could enjoy my sickness, but I am filled with mucus and regret.
Sinus infection Day 2: Ponder This!! --> Why is calling in sick for work not nearly as enjoyable as calling in sick for school used to be?
Hypothesis: By calling in sick for work not only are you possibly losing the respect of your superiors and coworkers but you are also losing money which therefore leads to feelings of shame and guilt that force you to start a blog.
All of this leads me to one possible conclusion...
Inability to enjoy sickness + desperately needing money= I'm getting old
Possible solutions:a) stop aging, b) move out of my parents house so that I can at least walk around in my pjs without getting those guilt inducing "looks", c) make up for the lost wages by selling some clothes or bodily fluids, d) take my antibiotics and go to work tomorrow feeling rested and refreshed.
I believe the best course of action would be choice e) all of the above!!
Tune in for tomorrow's episode:
"Terrified Tissue" or "Thanks for the Streptococcus"
I wish I could enjoy my sickness, but I am filled with mucus and regret.
Sinus infection Day 2: Ponder This!! --> Why is calling in sick for work not nearly as enjoyable as calling in sick for school used to be?
Hypothesis: By calling in sick for work not only are you possibly losing the respect of your superiors and coworkers but you are also losing money which therefore leads to feelings of shame and guilt that force you to start a blog.
All of this leads me to one possible conclusion...
Inability to enjoy sickness + desperately needing money= I'm getting old
Possible solutions:a) stop aging, b) move out of my parents house so that I can at least walk around in my pjs without getting those guilt inducing "looks", c) make up for the lost wages by selling some clothes or bodily fluids, d) take my antibiotics and go to work tomorrow feeling rested and refreshed.
I believe the best course of action would be choice e) all of the above!!
Tune in for tomorrow's episode:
"Terrified Tissue" or "Thanks for the Streptococcus"
On this day, one sixteen of February two thousand and four, I have the prestigious honor of beginning this diary of all events, noteworthy and otherwise, that transpire in the daily life of myself. This momentous occasion, brought about not by the need for a creative outlet or the demand for public knowledge of my daily goings on, but by the ever growing boredom and loss of human spirit that can only be experienced by college graduates working crappy jobs and living with their parents. With that said I do also come bearing a message of hope and enlightenment for those who are also living in such dark times: Fear not yon intrepid seekers of knowledge, for you shall have the power to save thy money and perchance get the hell out of thine parent's house. Just giveth it some time and have faith in the power of thine college degree.
