tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32004088244425711942012-02-16T11:44:45.587-08:00The misadventures, romances, and un-romances of a college girl who refuses to keep her fingers off the keyboard, or her dating follies to herself. Carrie Bradshaw does Campus.Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.comBlogger2881100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-80201547538943632482011-10-12T18:47:00.000-07:002011-10-12T18:47:46.908-07:00

So you think you can flirt, huh? I have news for you, buddy-- you can always improve on that game, and just like how you begged until your parents sent you to basketball camp in middle school so that you could improve that 3-point shot of yours, I'm here by popular demand to tell you where you're slacking on the job while trying to pick up chicks. So, here it is, 5 quick, easy tips for sneakily

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-38680549963847150072011-10-11T19:02:00.000-07:002011-10-11T19:06:01.767-07:00

When I moved home, I expected that being a grown-ass woman rooming with her parents was going to be putting a HUGE dent in my dating game, were I to choose to play it again. I forgot to factor in the atmosphere of where, exactly, I was moving back to, literally and metaphorically. The one thing I'd forgotten about starting new jobs was the fact that working in a mall is kind of like being thrown

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-91825363536280729852011-09-12T20:31:00.000-07:002011-09-12T20:31:47.733-07:00

There are a few things I really like about attending weddings: The look on the bride and groom's faces as they look at each other, the dancing at the reception afterwards, and the ruthless "time of famine and drought"-style drinking involved when the two best words in the English language get together-- Open. Bar. And then there are a few things I really hate about attending weddings: The fact

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-20382847743225436192011-09-05T10:04:00.000-07:002011-09-05T10:05:39.279-07:00

Last night, I had a dream about the first boy I ever really liked and had a mad, raging, multi-year-long crush on. It was an interesting dream, because in it, he was just as blase and indecisive as he had been in real life. Finally, driven to the end of my proverbial rope by despair and out of my wits with frustration, I wrote him a letter, outlining the fact that as long as he couldn't choose

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-67672526322780254752011-08-03T23:57:00.000-07:002011-08-04T00:36:47.613-07:00

I recently sold my horse. It was EASILY the hardest decision of my life; for those of you non-horsey people out there, imagine it feeling as it would be like to give up a 7 year old child. It was the right thing for me to do at this point in my life, financially, but about the only thing that made me actually go through with it instead of climbing on my mare's back and taking off into the sunset,

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-79430239191163578052011-08-02T08:45:00.000-07:002011-08-02T10:45:10.287-07:00

Here's the thing about pregnancy tests: You never quite believe that it's actually you holding them. They're like a Twilight Zone wormhole from which you look down at the box in your hand and ask yourself, "Is this really me standing here with this thing? Like, is this for real?" You know how in movies, when they do POV shots, it feels really uncomfortable to be the viewer, because you KNOW that

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-15087814348306465732011-07-26T16:33:00.000-07:002011-07-26T18:27:30.554-07:00

One of the bad parts about staying in the same town that you graduated college in is that inevitably, you'll run into people from your past who you would rather not see. Like today when I unexpectedly bumped into one of the ex's little slips in fidelity. It had been awhile since I'd seen her; even longer since I'd seen her in the same room as myself and the ex. If counting my two relationships

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-48290758858081091132011-07-16T20:01:00.000-07:002011-07-16T20:47:44.382-07:00

At 22, I thought that my big Quarterlife-Crisis change would be starting to navigate the big, scary Real World, B.S in hand. Instead, the economy solved that issues for me by making me generally unemployable (who ever got a Liberal Arts degree, anyway?) and only a few months freshly out of college, my big life change ended up being a drastic switch from The Single Life to The Coupled Life.

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-6674996155731462422011-07-05T17:33:00.000-07:002011-07-05T17:42:04.103-07:00

Over the weekend, one of my best friends came and stayed with us. For both of us-- "fun"employed graduates with a bachelors in writing who aren't happy unless we're working for 5 independently contracted clients at once and think "relaxing" is an exercise is being frivolous-- it was not only a great chance to not only discover "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding", read woman's magazines, eat McDonalds (or

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-72895752585464451532011-06-29T14:20:00.001-07:002011-06-29T14:28:51.887-07:00

And now for something completely different...Now it's my turn to ask you lovely readers for some help in regards to how to make a relationship work even better!Ok, here we go— yet again another chance for me to prove to you how painfully yet wonderfully new everything about a serious, cohabitating relationship is to me: Mealtimes. How in the name of god do you coordinate two very different people

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-59954466212776700882011-06-22T09:58:00.000-07:002011-06-22T13:13:25.849-07:00

What's more hip right now than vampires? Tampons, obviously. Let's talk about vaginas, shall we?I'll admit it-- I'm a bit of a brand whore, and I'm as loyal as the Labrador Retriever you grew up with when I find a product I like. I've worn the same American Eagle jeans since I was in middle school, because they're the cuts that fit me best. I've washed my hair with Garnier Fructis since I was a

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-59739563580374852382011-06-06T07:20:00.000-07:002011-06-06T09:17:15.814-07:00

...Until now.1.) Sometimes, guys get headaches, too. A night spent together without sleeping together is not a night wasted-- it's life. Just like you have "off" nights, men are allowed to have "off" nights and days, too. Don't take it personally. Enjoy your night of restful sleep. And if you're really torn up about it...there's always the next morning.2.) Nannying was a really useful summer job

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-49408867389091033652011-05-28T12:45:00.000-07:002011-05-28T13:06:44.169-07:00

So, that new little widgety thing at the top of the page there, where it says "I Majored In Creative Writing, Why?" and has a donation tab? That's not spam, or an extremely fitting ad. That's what happens when your parents are supportive of your dreams and don't stop you from graduating with a B.S in Writing and no job. So, if you, dear readers, happen to be a little more flush than I am, and

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-55406473723955993742011-05-23T21:20:00.000-07:002011-05-23T21:59:18.956-07:00

My childhood best friend is getting married shortly (a June wedding; classic, of course). Despite the fact that we've been largely out of touch for the past few years, my family and I were still invited. My dad bowed out-- weddings aren't exactly his thing-- but my S.O gamely agreed to be my date, anyhow. What startled me the most about these upcoming nuptials wasn't the fact that I actually have

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-85941915904904370562011-05-19T11:13:00.000-07:002011-05-19T11:23:49.926-07:00

While my ex seems to be content with popping up on my cell phone's screen at all hours of the night, now plagued with a need to reconcile after all this radio silence, my S.O's ex didn't seemingly take to the news that he was seeing someone new so well, which has resulted in such jewels as "Makes more sense now; Carissa is a whore's name :)," popping up on HIS cell phone's screen.I Googled. There

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-20045793076840815882011-05-15T23:22:00.000-07:002011-05-15T23:26:27.048-07:00

You do things for relationships that you normally wouldn't be caught dead doing, right? I mean, after all, we always hear about how "sacrifice" and "work" are the two hot-button words in the game of being a two-some. For some women, that means learning how many minutes are in a quarter of football (that's 15, if you were wondering,) and what player's names to scream at the TV. For others, it

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-63270256122068239412011-05-15T23:00:00.001-07:002011-05-15T23:05:32.256-07:00

After over 6 years of dating, NUMEROUS relationships, and both some long and short distance flings, I have finally managed to stop dodging the bullet, and put my Big Girl Pants on and met a guy's mother. Mostly, I managed to accomplish this tremendous feat of chicken-shit-ness by either A.) Dating guys without parents (read: orphans, foster kids, or extremely independent children of nasty

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-69970458480458443952011-05-12T12:33:00.000-07:002011-05-13T14:47:31.873-07:00

After my third friend in a row was recently dumped by her long-time partner in lovin' crime, it started to put my ladies in the Burlington area in a bit of a panic. First, TGIS had gone MIA, then, one friend's 9+ month f-buddy called it quits on her while citing the need to emotionally distance himself before moving to Beantown, and to top it all off, one of the longest-running couples I knew

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-13558626450018144512011-04-21T06:26:00.000-07:002011-04-22T13:00:29.335-07:00

Last night, I went out for impromptu drinks with a guy. It's not like I went to my night class thinking, "Whelp, it's the last class of the semester and everyone is ridiculously stressed in Hell Week before Finals, so why don't we choose now to find someone to go out with, eh?" But that's what happened. As we chatted instead of working, and added each other on Facebook (the "hey, I'm interested

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-24527508642575213672011-04-17T15:08:00.000-07:002011-04-17T16:08:09.994-07:00

I'm taking a break from my Hell Week before Finals and graduation to bring you something I found while researching for my Gender Com. paper: A response from a potential student's father to the University of West Florida's sex column from March 2009, saying, "What possible editorial and journalistic motive was there for printing such trash-- was this an opinion piece meant to elevate the

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-37086386095272228402011-04-10T15:05:00.000-07:002011-04-10T15:09:06.759-07:00

I look down, and still see your Pubic hair On my bath mat.There probably isn’t a less Romantic lineAnywhere in the rest of the poems in English in the world,But it’s something about how The sight of itMakes meFeel.You left Visible reminders behind you everywhere,From your long and curlies on the bathroom floor,To the hole you accidentally punched in my wall when lastYou came.I separate your socks

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-77974009758083687592011-04-05T18:32:00.000-07:002011-04-05T18:49:20.882-07:00

I do not meanto exploit our relationshipAll that I havelearned from youI cherish mostShould I keep it to myself?Should I keep you to myself?What is personal?Should I code what I say?I say so littletoo muchwhen meanings are already hiddenShould I hide them?What am I going to keep for myself?The wild woman is unkemptThe changing woman is unkemptShe speaks her mind.- Excerpt from "She" by Saul

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-7328299279084380612011-04-05T09:41:00.000-07:002011-04-05T09:51:03.177-07:00

AskMen.com has the ability to really piss me off sometimes. Other times, I give them a hearty "A-MEN!" (Yes, yes, as always, pun intended.) Because I'm currently slaving away at my senior thesis for my B.S (NOT bullshit, as you might think), and don't really have any relationship fodder for you at the mo' as I have no fucking clue what's up with TGIS (or most of my life, for that matter), here

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-85107523694090100552011-04-04T22:34:00.000-07:002011-04-05T01:12:11.632-07:00

Four days. For four days, I housed you. For four days, I let you into my life. Totally. Completely.Three nights. For three nights, you slept beside me. For three nights, I smoked you up. Twice. Twice, I cooked you dinner. Twice, we had sex. Twice, you told me how nice I was to you.Once. Once, you ate without even talking to me, preferring to stay online instead. Once, you browsed other girls

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-73774286785963478252011-04-02T23:29:00.000-07:002011-04-02T23:34:14.008-07:00

The other week, TGIS (again, that's The Guy I'm Seeing) and I were chatting about a mutual acquaintance as we were getting ready to go out for brunch, per usual, when he let something slip that wasn't the usual. "Yeah, I went out on a date-slash-lunch date with _____ around Thanksgiving, and we were talking about him and how every woman is in love with him."What I wanted to say was "Hold up,

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-53496042517411431992011-03-30T09:31:00.000-07:002011-03-30T10:14:04.600-07:00

One of the hardest things about dating someone is trying to get an idea of the web of their friendships. While you may meet the best friends if you make it through the preliminary rounds of courtship, and while you may be taken to places, parties, or events where you meet some of the outer circle, the "good for a fun time" friends, you'll never get to meet everyone, or neatly sort out all the

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-32742637589646989862011-03-25T20:14:00.000-07:002011-03-25T21:20:42.708-07:00

Relationships are often hard enough contending with other women; when a girl gets mind-fucked and finds out that men are included in the mix, it's often enough to send anyone off her rocker. I remember finding an ex of mine on a gay website. He had been so manly, so masculine, so snide about homosexuals, so normal, so badly dressed, so straight. And now THIS. The love of musicals and

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-53149410351616371582011-03-24T13:16:00.000-07:002011-03-24T13:23:13.430-07:00

So, my senior thesis revolves around the communication differences between men and woman on the topics of love, sex, and relationships, and if there's any way to write for both sexes so that they'd be equally interested in the material.That being said, if you could answer the following question-- anonymously is fine-- just including your gender, in the comments section, you'd be doing me a

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-15304818925292211112011-03-19T08:52:00.001-07:002011-03-19T09:29:12.963-07:00

I could, in my spare time (if I had any), probably moonlight for the FBI as a search-analyst-thingy-whatsit. Case in point: When TGIS got a job offer that seemed a little too good to be true and asked me what to do, what was my snap judgement call? "Google the SHIT out of the company and the employer." It ended up being a scam, so it was a win for the home team all around, but still, the fact

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-38515028179930462912011-03-14T11:15:00.000-07:002011-03-14T12:06:05.021-07:00

I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But I have to be That Girl today and write something potentially disgusting that some of you, my lovely, loyal readers who I honestly lose sleep over trying to think of new ways to appease, may hate and thus boycott this blog. But it needs to be said. If I was not currently at work, I would traipse up to the top floor of the library to sing it from the outdoor patio,

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-22356768683493027462011-03-13T20:20:00.001-07:002011-03-13T20:23:54.265-07:00

Clear space out in your life for them, literally. Yes, yes, we all heard first-hand from me what a bitch it was to lump all my tank tops and long sleeves together in my closet, but making a shelf for the guy I'm seeing has ended up not only being functional so that the extra pairs of socks and shirts he keeps here don't get mixed in my my cast-off clothing, but also, a great visual reminder

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-42429224547565665902011-03-08T13:28:00.000-08:002011-03-08T13:57:08.294-08:00

I found a Tumblr thread today re: why it's freaky as shit when guys date high school girls. The mixed responses were overwhelming. My favorites were the still barely-legal girls defending their choices to older, 20-something boyfriends.As a definitely-no-longer-barely-legal girl who was engaged in a long-term 8 year age gap (I was 16; he was 24,) relationship in high school, here's my two cents:

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-74831617368692774162011-03-01T16:31:00.000-08:002011-03-01T19:13:45.461-08:00

Today, I was watching one of the the few male members of my Gender Comm. class out of sheer social interest when I realized there was something going on with him that I doubted few other people ever got tipped off about: He's running a tighter game than Mick Vick was this past season, and as an Eagles girl, let me tell you, the only thing tighter than Vick's game is his ass. But back to what was

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-75718485009763650652011-02-27T13:59:00.000-08:002011-02-27T14:13:50.492-08:00

Recently, I'd been experiencing some friction with my roommate. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I had a sneaking suspicion part of it had to do with the fact that she recently entered a bona-fide, label-ready relationship with the guy she's been seeing for the past two months. Maybe it was the fact that he was so willing to commit to something so freaking early on, or maybe it was the

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-71402628131633163632011-02-25T18:59:00.001-08:002011-02-25T19:04:40.797-08:00

I went to the gym today.Ended up working out next to a guy my friend sleeps with.Later, he asked her if we'd be down for a threesome.I started going to the gym again, and all I got was this offer for a stupid threesome.It was the most exciting thing that's happened to me in a week. Because I'm about 75% sure TGIS is The Guy I'm No Longer Seeing.Now is when you may want to tune into other

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-74472703245695965512011-02-24T12:16:00.001-08:002011-02-24T12:31:25.553-08:00

"How do you know when you want someone to be a part of your life?"This is one of my favorite questions to ask people who are part of a couple-- I've asked my mom, my friends, my older friends who are engaged or married, sales associates, random people I've met while in line at the supermarket, the woman behind the counter at my favorite take-out Chinese restaurant who always compliments my

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-24997855167635667702011-02-21T22:05:00.000-08:002011-02-21T22:12:28.565-08:00

I know I said I wouldn't do it, and I promised as much in about three different languages to about half a dozen people, but I broke first. Maybe it was from watching too much SATC over this very long long weekend and watching Carrie put herself out there and say "Women's magazine advice be damned; this is how I really feel!" but finally, yesterday afternoon, I snapped when I saw TGIS was online (

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-57867749019203139602011-02-19T20:41:00.001-08:002011-02-19T21:02:47.719-08:00

We all know the sayings: Lose yourself in the moment. Lose yourself in your work. Lose yourself to find yourself again. But should we want to lose ourselves in the first place? Lately, I've been wondering what good can come from losing oneself. I hate that moment in a relationship when you suddenly realize that you're not happy being alone anymore, or, at the very least, have come to expect that

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-87325547805537404672011-02-18T15:12:00.000-08:002011-02-18T15:39:07.895-08:00

What a funny coincidence I'd write a blog post about considering the ramifications of having a baby THE SAME DAY that the U.S House of Representatives passes a vote to cut federal funding from Planned Parenthood.It's called the Pence Amendment, and you can read more about it here, here, and here.Normally, I'm not one for politics, but this is absurd. Americans, you think that supporting other

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-40353413488276388702011-02-18T00:33:00.000-08:002011-02-18T10:38:56.342-08:00

A few weeks ago, I was surprised. It wasn't a good surprise, though it wasn't a bad surprise, either. It was the kind of surprise that takes a minute to sink in and then makes you decide how you feel about it. It was the kind of surprise that makes you reconsider if you're a right-to-life supporter, or a pro-choice defendant. Let's be clear, here: I am in a monogamous relationship. We have sex. I

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-65198320202712142622011-02-17T19:25:00.000-08:002011-02-17T19:30:06.186-08:00

There are some things that are sacred to women: Chocolate. A pair of heels that fit perfectly and would never pinch, even if you walked 50 blocks in them. A perfectly made cocktail. Sleeping in on the weekends. Happy hour with your closest friends. How our mother will always be one of the first people we call with news. The four-letter words S-A-L-E and L-O-V-E. And closet space.A few weekends

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-1078056501329284452011-02-14T16:45:00.001-08:002011-02-15T10:07:57.617-08:00

For one of the world's happiest Single Girls, some of the weirdest moments of being in a relationship again aren't the big things you'd expect, like handing out your key or finding another person sitting at your kitchen table for breakfast in the morning when you surface from your coffee cup, but the little things that are hard to get back into the swing of again. Take, for instance, the fact

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-19702995739189632892011-02-14T11:10:00.000-08:002011-02-14T11:17:54.327-08:00

I don't think there's ever a worse time for a girl to start crying than after having sex while still in bed with her lover, and yet, that's where I found myself the other day.It wasn't him, not at all, and it wasn't me, either-- it was my past. My past is a bit colorful. As may have been previously stated, I haven't always had the best taste in or luck with men. One of my past relationships

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-49015152427223258052011-02-10T21:22:00.000-08:002011-02-10T23:08:29.686-08:00

Be A Sexy Secretary: All women in relationships live in fear during the week before February 14th that the guy they're with is going to completely forget that it's actually a beloved (and despised) national holiday. While I may not be the most organizationally-forward person when it comes to remembering important dates myself, I've met far more men that are actually worse than I am at remembering

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-53443575249203670492011-02-07T08:39:00.000-08:002011-02-07T08:40:36.241-08:00

During Glamour's yearly poll of thousands of men on issues regarding love and sex and relationships, one polled member commented on the fact that it takes the average man between 3 and 6 months to decide that he wants to commit to a serious relationship. Obviously, to people like my mother and like, all other women on the face of the Earth, this doesn't make much sense, because, after you've been

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-63805464568632681322011-02-04T08:00:00.000-08:002011-02-04T09:59:12.061-08:00

I frequently spend downtime at my job chatting with the guy I'm seeing when there's no clients, no pressing inter-office business, and no other busy-work to be done while I'm sitting at the desk, awaiting inter-collegiate emails. However, work and play overlapped in a way I didn't see coming yesterday that left me feeling a little shook not only about how my job and interests bleed into my

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-86175590795487665552011-02-02T00:07:00.000-08:002011-02-02T01:07:49.865-08:00

There are some things in life that are just naturally painful. Root canals. Cute shoes that are unfortunately too tight. When your friend pinches you to shut up after you say too much. Spider bites. And talking to your exes about your current relationships.I may have been clear in the past that just talking to your exes in the first place is probably painful enough, as you've got some colorful

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-32795266500864286552011-01-31T13:44:00.001-08:002011-01-31T16:01:07.720-08:00

What is a real man? What does he look like? What does he do? And where, where the HELL, can you find one?A real man will be willing to part with money for your time. A real man dates. He knows your time is not free, and he's willing to reasonably spend to take you out to lunch and talk to you, even after you've been doing it for awhile and are sleeping together. A real man knows picking up the

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-59860935231844021062011-01-30T20:33:00.000-08:002011-01-30T21:09:52.485-08:00

Relationships come in all different shapes and sizes and styles, like any good department store's merchandise. Some relationships are only made to fit you for a season before you outgrow them, where as others are cut so versatilely to go from brunch with his mother to the football game with his boys. Some are itchy and uncomfortable and don't get worn for long before they're relegated to another

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-34035088163681604442011-01-27T22:37:00.001-08:002011-01-27T22:58:03.967-08:00

{Hat: Columbia;Shirt: Truly Madly Deeply from Urban Outfitters;Leggings: Old Navy;Knit Stockings: Charlotte Russe;Boots: Deena & Ozzy Tread Boot from Urban Outfitters.}It's been cold as blue balls lately here in VT, and paired with the fact that the medication I've been on for my fever and infection (there's the reason I've been MIA-- Ladies, DO NOT ignore a UTI and just HOPE it'll go away; I

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-66830376946380095342011-01-22T18:24:00.000-08:002011-01-22T23:43:24.830-08:00

Coming up on under a month to go until Valentine's Day (ick, ugh, roar,) I've (and I'm sure, the rest of the world has, too,) been spending a lot of time lately trying to come up with ideas for small things to do for the guy I'm seeing on or around that date. While we haven't been together long enough to do anything quite as grand and stunning as the couple's massage/day at the exclusive gym/

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-52770849269184693012011-01-19T23:08:00.000-08:002011-01-19T23:37:54.548-08:00

I learned a fun fact this evening while I was talking to my roommate Alli about the fact that I'm starting to think that slightly larger than average amounts of testosterone in my biological make up would explain a lot about me, paramount being my sex drive, natural aggressiveness, tendency to dominate, and the fact that a lot of the time, I feel masculine despite my 36C breasts riding on my 5'3"

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-37716752220439112762011-01-15T15:26:00.000-08:002011-01-15T15:32:35.174-08:00

I was at a party last night when a local celebrity walked in. No, I’m not talking about any epic Vermont personas—not entertainer Rusty DeWees, not novelist Chris Bohjalian, not even Fred Pabst the Younger, a Vermont ski mogul whose grandfather started that scion of beer, Pabst Blue Ribbon, even though lots of said beer was in attendance—no, I’m talking about a real Champlain College celebrity:

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-87309357073465133972011-01-12T14:11:00.000-08:002011-01-12T18:27:28.945-08:00

I hear lots of really random, really interesting quotes. It's a gift I have, one that I apparently was not aware of until it was pointed out to me recently, but is something I've always had an ear for. Or, I say some pretty random and interesting things when I'm tired, drunk, stoned, tired and stoned, drunk and tired, stoned and drunk, or otherwise impaired. I take a lot of photos, too, and spend

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-56002528731924160672011-01-11T19:07:00.000-08:002011-01-11T19:48:13.773-08:00

I don't know how it happened. I really don't know why. I actually really detest politics, or talking about politics, or debating about politics, the product of growing up with a severely politically-rampant father, even though I have strong opinions about a few items-- namely, environmental issues, women's rights, and higher education. Maybe it just affirms my belief that I'm a whore for a

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-14619256570747125452011-01-11T18:12:00.000-08:002011-01-11T19:00:42.164-08:00

Caught Red-Handed:For a year, I slept with the same guy. While there were perks-- intimate knowledge of how each other's body worked, relaxed expectations because you knew exactly what you were going to get, the fact that you find a routine that works perfectly every time-- ending that relationship and having a new partner has been a little thrilling. Sometimes, more than just a little.I had a

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-16702657618941746102011-01-07T13:05:00.000-08:002011-01-07T15:36:28.558-08:00

Lately, my most over-used phrase has been "He's not my boyfriend." As the boy himself pointed out the other night, he gets why when he kisses me in public, people assume I'm his girlfriend, and sometimes it's easier to just not correct them, and I hear that and am all over with agreeing with it-- I let it slide too, when it's not really important. But still, if I have to tell my mother one more

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-59498271604364850592011-01-06T22:39:00.000-08:002011-01-07T01:32:47.747-08:00

In many aspects, I'm not your typical girl. I don't know many Lady Gaga songs, I'm really not into jeggings, and I'd rather watch a football game than Glee and go to a dive bar than a nail salon. I've never had a manicure (waste of money when you use your hands as much as I do), and I didn't have senior portraits taken, or professional prom photos done. So it really shouldn't be any surprise that

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-67502036047217159692011-01-04T23:26:00.001-08:002011-01-05T00:41:29.664-08:00

Last night, I met the friends. Let's be candid here-- in the past, I haven't been so much the "into dating/ bring me home to your parents/ introduce me to your friends" type. In the past, I've been the "don't you dare pay for my meal/ bring me home to spend the night/ run into your roommates in the morning on the way out after trying to avoid seeing them" girl. But since I'm trying to do things

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-23797791161690479132010-12-24T08:50:00.001-08:002010-12-24T10:08:07.632-08:00

I saw a special on gift-giving and the Christmas present tradtion on BBC news last night that was really eye-opening. Their human behavior expert was adamant about how we started giving gifts because they cement social relationships. It's a way of enforcing bonding for us, a tangible reminder that we care a lot about that particular person. However, once the gift is out of our hands, the way it's

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-47084263869450473792010-12-23T01:00:00.001-08:002010-12-23T02:15:42.709-08:00

You know what's really not hot for the holidays? Being sick. And guess who just happened to come down with strep throat during the most romantic time of the year to be playing tongue hockey? That's right-- THIS GIRL.Among all the things in the world, the image above is NOT something you want in your mouth.Sunday night I was feeling great. The boy came into town; we watched a movie (NOT in the

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-42371619174416300032010-12-16T11:32:00.000-08:002010-12-16T12:37:31.289-08:00

I have to admit, I've watched the majority of his videos now. It's so nice and refreshing to have an average Joe talk about the places where men and women go wrong, and get a male perspective on where we differ. What can we learn from this?#1: Be proactive. If it ain't goin' down, LET HIM KNOW that it ain't goin' down. It's only fair; it's only polite; wouldn't you want him to know sex isn't int

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-74310984178422357462010-12-16T00:51:00.000-08:002010-12-16T01:53:41.437-08:00

I'm ridiculously impatient. It's one of my worst character traits, and it always has been-- ask my mother. I was one of those kids who started digging my elbow into her side in the supermarket when I thought that the conversation she was having with the acquaintance she had bumped into in aisle 4 had gone on for long enough, and I was getting hungry. Maybe it's because I'm an only child-- I've

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-8701155299446647872010-12-15T07:13:00.000-08:002010-12-15T08:05:35.951-08:00

I was having a conversation with a friend last night while procrastinating taking a shower and catching up with everything due in my Food Writing course that took a decided turn for the philosophical when home-made sex videos came up. As has been previously stated, I have no issues with porn, but there's something that really just rubs me the wrong way (pun intended,) about making your own sex

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-61451811991734332282010-12-07T10:31:00.001-08:002010-12-07T12:00:14.261-08:00

Like any smart person dating or living, I have certain non-negotiables when it comes to men: He must do what he says he will do (have follow-through). He must have initiative (put as much time and energy into planning, talking, and general effort). He must have manners (ack rite, be a gentleman, and know how to hold a fork correctly). He must have self-confidence (sexy). He must love watching

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-64224746466071878202010-12-02T14:01:00.000-08:002010-12-02T15:22:59.328-08:00

Even though I'm a little rock-n'-roll in my style, it's taken me a long time to hop on board with the whole tights-under-denim-shorts look. Burlington, Vermont, while extremely fashion-forgiving, is not exactly Florence. This girl, however, rocked the look in way that felt easy enough to emulate with pieces out of my own wardrobe when I was getting dressed this morning in a particularly

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-60393615521400782922010-11-29T08:56:00.000-08:002010-11-29T09:36:11.958-08:00

I'm a girl who likes to be ready for anything. I carry a big wallet (an embossed alligator 5 Euro flea market find from Firenze that can hold my passport,) and I make a point to always have condoms on me, because hey, you never know when the opportunity is going to present itself, if you will. In fact, at any one time, there are usually 5 condoms within close distance of my person. I told this to

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-62082135744743461722010-11-27T15:38:00.001-08:002010-11-27T16:40:56.650-08:00

The first man who proposed to me was desperate for a family and cheating on me at the time because he knew that at my young age, kids weren't a paramount desire for me-- going to college was. I thought he was joking-- there was no ring, no bended knee, not even any short but sweet speech about how I made his life better. Just a "What would you think about getting married?" I laughed. To this day,

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-61105630479283437662010-11-21T09:17:00.000-08:002010-11-21T10:26:10.328-08:00

Please take me on a date. Like, a real one. Not one that later I will question if it was a pseudo-date, or merely you making sure I actually have two ears and two legs and one nose. One where other people will see us and instantly be able to recognize between your look of sheer terror at the thought of not entertaining me enough, and my full face of make-up that we're both hoping at some point in

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-61452276723876242402010-11-20T20:33:00.000-08:002010-11-21T00:23:43.512-08:00

Like I've said, I enjoy a challenge and something new. After a year of riding the same merry-go-round, I decided to take a break from the one-man game and see what else was out there and offering itself's up, because, after all, what's good for the gander is good for the goose-- if you're not getting what you want and you need, and if there's no commitment, and he's off having fun elsewhere or

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-35193590635056558052010-11-17T11:58:00.000-08:002010-11-17T12:08:51.603-08:00

As I may have stated previously, I am an extremely monogamous and loyal person. And though I'm currently not in any committed relationships, it genuinely makes me question my morals when feelings for two disparate people are happening at the same time. To me, the girl who always has a favorite of everything, and a firm opinion on why it's the best one, it feels like...emotional cheating.The

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-56306243319111734532010-11-13T22:13:00.000-08:002010-11-13T23:33:39.585-08:00

Tonight, I went to a bar with one of my exes. (Don't worry; this is not one of "those" stories that involve the equation of an emotionally vulnerable woman + man from her past/present she can tell you full measurements of, and I mean, FULL measurements + alcohol = oops.) It actually wasn't as simple as that, because it never is-- when he originally got in touch with me, he said "coffee" and "

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-43524359867096604242010-11-12T12:29:00.000-08:002010-11-12T13:48:00.163-08:00

One of my more endearing quirks is the fact that I'm one of those girls who always goes over to a guy's place, rather than having him come to me. A great way for my guys to figure out how I feel about them is if I invite them over or not: If I ask you to come over, I'm not stressing about you seeing where or how I live. In other words, we're great buddies. I'm comfortable around you. You can

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-61540560886439492362010-11-10T22:11:00.000-08:002010-11-10T22:27:18.136-08:00

Over an extremely rare burger and extremely good beer out with friends tonight, I got a text from one of my exes. He was not, shall we say, one of the prominent exes in my life; rather, a guy I was with for the last month of my freshman year of college, just before he graduated and fell off the face of the Earth, never to be heard from again, until the next time he happened to come back to

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-56225559917628180862010-11-09T22:05:00.001-08:002010-11-10T22:28:04.566-08:00

I send texts. You send texts. We all send texts. Everyone's doing it. But are we doing it...wrong?There is nothing quite so degrading as when you realize you're giving your phone the evil eye, waiting for it to ring after you send someone a text. I mean, for chrissake, it's an electronic lump of plastic, and here we're thinking giving it the look that would freeze hell over will galvanize someone

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-52835212913335269272010-11-07T12:26:00.000-08:002010-11-07T13:01:58.447-08:00

I don't cry in public. I'm mortified when I cry in front of my friends. In fact, I flat-out believe that I should never cry; if I have to, I cry in the shower so it's like I never did in the first place. Getting me to admit fear or the fact that I feel something or want something is harder than getting me to submit to vaccinations administered through needles or local anesthesia. And I have not

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-75897888022030869322010-11-03T20:45:00.000-07:002010-11-08T08:51:36.748-08:00

I've talked a lot about what you should do in a relationship. We've bonded over shared stories of where we all went wrong. We've even discussed how to make being single more fun and less lonely. But something that a lot of time hasn't been spent on is what NOT to do in a relationship. The bad news is, these things can only be learned after they go wrong, and some relationships don't snap back

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-84620379109734285472010-11-02T11:22:00.000-07:002010-11-02T11:37:44.423-07:00

For Your Entertainment: SATCG got a Twitter page, all of its own. Hooray. Follow at sexandtheCG on Twitter for real-time Tweets when new posts go up on the blog, and for other pertinent articles that I find during my daily trawls of the internet while avoiding being productive or actually doing something with my life.XOXO

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-69720107512416225412010-11-01T10:40:00.000-07:002010-11-01T11:44:59.225-07:00

There's a fundamental problem between the sexes when it comes to having the sexes: As popular television, the '50s, and hearing about your mother's chronic "headaches" may have led you to believe, we're very rarely in the same mood at the same time. Which can be good, or bad.Men are kind of like stoplights when it comes to being in the mood for sex. There's "HELL YES," there's "You can convince

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-68223313644829614642010-10-31T00:38:00.000-07:002010-10-31T00:41:43.868-07:00

Urban legends, right in time for Halloween. Not only are there scary urban legends, there are the sort of urban legends that Single Girls tell to each other to feel better-- things like "It's not you; it's him. He's obviously crazy, and he'll be begging you to come back next week, just wait and see." That, my friends, is a total myth, and one we all know is complete bullshit.So which do you think

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-16243092929129157492010-10-30T10:27:00.000-07:002010-10-30T10:33:40.042-07:00

I was chatting a few nights ago with one of my oldest friends about guys when she brought up a point so valid I had no choice but to ask her if she would expand on the thought for a guest-post. I can attest to the fact that she is one of those gifted girls who has a way with getting people to want to do what she wants them to. For the rest of us, less-gifted and talented people such as myself,

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-31667579312059722010-10-28T10:39:00.001-07:002010-10-28T13:59:18.346-07:00

Just when I was getting comfortable with the whole morning-after routine, the dealer throws a new card. Or, in this case, no card, no note, no nothing when I woke up the next morning, to not only find him gone from his bed, but gone from his house as well. There's this one extremely hilarious moment in which a woman, still fuzzy with sleep, reaches over to the other side of the bed, and feels the

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-5573659008872239392010-10-28T10:27:00.000-07:002010-10-28T10:36:49.969-07:00

So, I write about sex and relationships. And now I've hosted a Durex House Party.It actually started because I realized that my condom supply is due to expire at the end of the year. Despite being on the Pill and the wayward decisions of my youth, any of the guys I've slept with in the past 3 years could tell you I'm rabid about wrapping up. But if there's one thing that I possibly loathe even

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-55478005110663047632010-10-26T22:23:00.001-07:002010-10-27T06:42:03.648-07:00

How many of you are in perfectly functioning relationships, where every need is met, you never question each other, you're both having exactly as much sex as you both want, he never snores, she never nags, and you're basically shitting rainbows and laughing maniacally while "Happy Together" plays everywhere you go?Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't tell me if you really are so happy together 24/7

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-37287389196025492622010-10-26T08:38:00.000-07:002010-10-26T09:07:18.664-07:00

Duino! (Duende)10 North Winooski Ave.,Burlington, VTCarissa: “Cheddar cheese and kimchi inside; dude, it’s so good,” said the guy from the next table who was wearing the same wool Gatsby hat that my grandfather and father used to get from Conte of Florence for golfing. Make no mistake, ¡Duino! (Duende) is not for the faint-of-hipster heart.Alli: There’s a wide, open doorway connecting ¡Duino! (

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-47336476135519531162010-10-25T09:35:00.000-07:002010-10-25T12:34:55.588-07:00

Good morning, lovelies and creepfests, alike. (Remember that Google Analytics post a little while ago when inspiration hadn't struck in awhile, and I felt it pertinent to post about how through using stats and simple Sherlock-Holmes-approved process of deduction, I can figure out who is reading this blog and what they're looking for? Well, let's just say, I'm HOT in Russia right now, and I doubt

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-86060235775078198962010-10-22T11:21:00.001-07:002010-10-24T11:35:48.246-07:00

What are the five most awkward or nerve-wracking situations a girl can get herself into today? What are the things that make us lose sleep at night, or break into cold sweats at sweltering house parties? When are the times that you can actually see fear in our eyes like the look that a guy gets as he walks up the front steps of his date's house for the first time? (Always thought that was a

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-77271752383135763652010-10-19T23:00:00.000-07:002010-10-20T00:02:45.480-07:00

Once and for all: It is the woman's job to make sure that she gives enough blatant indicators that she's comfortable for the guy to make the first move. From personal experience, this could mean not moving away when they lean into you (touching is always a great open-season sign), holding eye contact, or initiating any sort of directional shift to the bedroom. From there, once it looks like the

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-2079017759439159112010-10-15T11:07:00.001-07:002010-10-15T12:34:40.162-07:00

I just spent the last hour and 15 minutes of my life trying not to storm out of a room while listening to a man. It was harder than I thought it would be.Periodically, for my Internship class, we have guest speakers come in and present to us what it is they do and how they have made their livings in the writing world. While I have thoroughly enjoyed some of these speakers and gotten new and

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-70289876652791102472010-10-13T14:02:00.000-07:002010-10-13T19:00:24.841-07:00

The other night, I was engaged in a cathartic conversation with another person in which the things that drive us crazy about the other were pointed out. It got me thinking about how important it is to be self-aware and have an honest-to-God list of your shortcomings, limitations, and triumphs. You know, really figure out what makes you "you"-- why people either should love you, or possibly, can't

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-46588153149582415312010-10-07T17:30:00.000-07:002010-10-07T17:38:36.970-07:00

I am an idiot.Sometimes.And assuming really does make an ass,But mostly out of me.I take it back.Not all.But most.XOXO

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-86777358548169523532010-10-07T12:07:00.001-07:002010-10-07T12:54:58.547-07:00

This is what I like to remember when I'm feeling low:Even Halle Berry has been rejected, broken up with, and cheated on.Yes. Some obviously criminally insane man thought he could do better than THAT. This just goes to prove a few things:A.) The grass is ALWAYS greener on the other side. Even if it's your side, her side, Halle's side, or some other woman who is decidedly NOT Halle Berry's side.B.)

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-37616408233915311192010-10-04T09:01:00.001-07:002010-10-04T09:31:07.256-07:00

So, Google Analytics recently (and by recently, I mean over a month ago, but I'm finally getting around to addressing this,) teamed up with Blogger to provide readership stats to all blogs, a move which I highly condone. Why? Because this means that not only can I keep numerical track on how many people are viewing this blog per day, from different countries around the world (that's you, Burundi!

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-4544601514524310872010-10-01T08:42:00.000-07:002010-10-01T09:20:03.677-07:00

I'm not the most romantic girl in the world, but there are definitely some things that get me going. Conversely, there are some "classic" romantic moves that make me feel like I just gagged on about two feet of Spam. One ex of mine made me melt every time he called me "Babygirl," while another drove me away with his constant holding of my knee while he drove MY car. To this day, if you touch my

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-85491105874535097692010-09-30T15:41:00.000-07:002010-09-30T16:43:23.608-07:00

See this? I would go on a date for a dish of what is to your left. Really. Let me explain.I spent a wonderful Sunday morning a few weekends back having brunch with my mother, when I looked around Penny Cluse Cafe and realized that I was actually enjoying myself, out and about, before noon on a weekend morning. I then noticed the couples and tables of friends sitting around us, and reached a

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-82663091070523791622010-09-27T10:36:00.000-07:002010-09-27T11:45:57.714-07:00

Cosmopolitans. Good beer. My monthly women's magazines. Men's facial hair. Expensive leather interiors of expensive European cars. Bubble baths. Sunday football. Snakes. A few of my favorite things.Writer's block. Or, more accurately, having absolutely nothing of interest to write about. Not one of my favorite things. There comes a moment in your life when you've laid the past just enough to rest

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-61173212897869881352010-09-22T19:51:00.000-07:002010-09-22T20:27:33.063-07:00

By all rights, this poem belong over on Juxtaposition with the rest of the poetry and the experimental prose, but, because of the content and subject matter, I'm posting it here, instead.This poem came into being after we read aubades, or "dawn songs," in my Reading and Writing Poetry class. An aubade is written by a lover regretting the coming day, and the separation it will bring from their

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-48772204575602768792010-09-20T10:02:00.000-07:002010-09-20T10:38:32.665-07:00

People love to be loved. It's strange, because right about the time you start trying to move the world for someone is usually right about the time in which they start trying to move away from you. I don't understand it-- we all profess to want nothing more in this world than to be loved and adored-- but it's true. It's been done to me, and I've most definitely also done it in return. Maybe it's

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-20803185037445524842010-09-15T17:14:00.000-07:002010-09-15T17:22:33.114-07:00

I made one shady judgement call, and all I got was this stupid cold. Well, among with a few other things, but mostly, this stupid cold. Even my immune system is immune to some things. Fuck.I'm never more on the fence about relationships than when I'm sick. First of all, I'm a huge baby about it, so I'm really glad no one romantically involved with me is usually around to see me in the same tank

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3200408824442571194.post-16160568045417175172010-09-11T08:00:00.000-07:002010-09-11T08:11:50.743-07:00

I recently saw "Get Him To The Greek," and if you haven't, you really should. I mean, I can't be the only one who thinks that Russell Brand is the secret love-child of Jesus and Devendra Banhart. (Not only am I sure I just severely blasphemed, I also admitted I have a thing for odd men-- as previously stated, the Joker; my strange fixation with Ted Nugent-- I mean, really, THE NUGE--; and I would

Carissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524392277808185684noreply@blogger.com0