I’m Going Back To Garcia

Why is it that only doctors get my last name correct?  When I was young, kids in school used to pronounce my first name incorrectly.  I either got Cara (pronounced like Car a), or bloody Carla.  If people can’t get it right, I prefer the former.  Do I really look like a Carla?  Don’t answer that.

Skip to 11:58


Not bad for a first attempt at my last name, Dan.  But that’s OK.  Luckily I didn’t yell about my first name.  You’re the only one allowed to say it that way – for now.  Now please, take off that cheese! It’s bad enough watching Overcooked.

I’m starving!

Seriously though.  Gamingmas is one of the best things in a long time.  It gives me something to look forward to each day until Christmas Day.

Now excuse me while I got cry into my coffee over my butchered name.  😛


…I need the bathroom.  NOW! …

Day 7 of my current journey, and I think I’m adjusting fairly well – intermittent crying and irritability aside.

I’ve decided not to gorge on any of the foods now listed as free in the current Weight Watchers Freestyle plan. It not only defeats the purpose of learning portion control (a major factor in maintaining a healthy weight), but it will also wreak havoc on my sensitive stomach.

By no means is eating healthy easy for someone with Crohn’s disease and IBS. It sucks gigantic elephant trunk as far as I’m concerned. But, I’ll adjust, and survive. I did the last time I went on this journey.

In case you’re asking how I fell off this wagon, all I have to say is this: because I went into self destruct mode after my father passed away three years ago. I not only starting eating badly, I also sat on my ass, and hopped a long ride on a different, evil wagon, whose name I won’t mention. Luckily, I’m able to jump off that wagon, and stay off for the most part. I’ll take a quick joy ride now and then. But only as a reward when I meet certain goals.

That said, in light of everyone complaining about the new system and their reduced daily points allowance, give it a chance. If you’re going to complain, complain about something worth complaining about. Like the following side effects I experienced today.

•1 slice low calorie whole wheat bread (1 smart point)
•2 tbsp. plain avocado (1 smart point & an itchy throat)
•1 microwaved egg (FREE, plus a side of radiation)
•1/3 c. nonfat Greek yogurt (FREE, plus a healthy dose of gas)
•12 gigantic seedless green grapes (FREE, + an instant canker sore)
•large black coffee (FREE, plus a side of the shakes)
•1 tsp. Coffee Mate flavored creamer (1 smart point, plus a case of the craps)

TOTAL: 3 smart points, plus 1 pound instantly lost, due to the adverse side effects of this bloody way of life that’s supposed to be healthy.

I can’t wait until lunch!


It’s All Fun & Games

…until you grow up.

Has anyone ever thought of themselves as a juvenile adult? I’m quite childish in recent years. Especially since my parents are both deceased. Many strangers can never guess my age when I ask them. I love getting proofed for alcohol.

If you’re a teenager reading this, don’t be so quick to ‘grow up’. Certain aspects of adulting suck-a-doodle-doo. And I made that one up all on my own last year. It nearly gave my daughter an aneurysm because she laughed so hard when I said it.

By the way, I lied when I said certain aspects of adulting sucks. ALL of it sucks.

When we were young, we hated naps. Now, we can’t wait to have a nap, and we want as many as possible. In fact, I wouldn’t complain if I could sleep 24/7. But that’s unhealthy. Don’t do that.

When we were young, we wanted to be cool and have a job like our friends. NOW? As an adult you live for Fridays, and cry on Mondays.

When we were young, we couldn’t wait to drive. As adults, people we know die in car accidents. Our vision starts to fail, and we don’t get our license renewed unless that vision test is passed.

When we were young, we couldn’t wait to legally drink and smoke. As adults, we have lung disease and fried livers.

When we were young, we couldn’t wait to get married and start a family. As adults, our children give us gray hair and put us in the poor house.

When we were young, we spent our ‘hard earned’ college years side-job money carelessly. As adults, electricity and water get shut off if money is spent carelessly.

When we were young, we couldn’t wait to have a credit card. As adults, we claim bankruptcy because of them.

When we were young, we couldn’t wait to eat as much junk food as we wanted. As adults, things like heart disease and diabetes is cause for higher health insurance premiums.

Someone please answer me this: WHY did I want to grow up?

I can’t wait to turn 50 in three years. WOOHOO!

Holiday Zoo

T’was the day before December, when all through the city
I should’ve woken early, but the weather is shitty
The streets are all decked with holiday cheer
The mad rush is on, until the new year

The children in school, all antsy at their desks
While visions of lunch dance in their heads
With hubby at work, and me in my bed
I consider some shopping, but I still feel quite dead

When out of the blue, I felt a slight whim
I brewed a fresh coffee, and filled it to the brim
Into the bathroom, I quickly got ready
Preparing for hell, I’ll take it slow and steady

The clouds are covering most of the land
I start my car, the driveway is quicksand
When what to my very tired eyes should appear
An oil light of warning, a change is soon near

With a curse and punch to my steering wheel hard
I get on the road, bad drivers I disregard
No matter how careful I am with my habits
The idiots surround me, they drive like they’re rabid

“You asshole, you dick, you can’t drive a stick!”
“You’re not supposed to stop when you turn. MAKE IT QUICK!”
To the end of the street, and around the corner
I’m finally moving, the car is getting warmer

The mad rush of mid-day is so aggravating
So much for lunch, ’til dinner I’m waiting
A few miles down, the traffic congests
What was I thinking? I’m beginning to stress

And then in a moment of random road rage
The driver next to me seemingly aged
A horn and a crunch, not far from us is heard
The sirens will follow, along with curse words

Finally away from the hustle and bustle
I’ve reached my destination, I can safely unbuckle
Taking a breath, I reach for my phone
Where is my purse, to the floor it had flown

The store is a zoo, but that is alright
I’m feeling determined, I proceed without fright
I rush to the carts, there’s only one left
I push my way past, the people I nearly heft

I suddenly smell cookies, my cold nostrils flare
I proceed with caution, I’m a dieter – beware
Through the aisles, I place special things
In the cart that I’m pushing, where germs are the kings

The shelves are messy, destroyed by the masses
Since the recent Black Friday, what a bunch of asses
Even though there isn’t, much of a selection
I find a few treasures, and proceed with inspection

I look at my watch, I haven’t much more time
I must check out, there’s a million people in line
I scramble to the front, of the store with little worry
Is that Santa I hear? Oh, please cashier, HURRY!

As he approached my lane with a smile
He handed me candy. He’s here for a while
My day is much brighter, and not so depressing
I return home safely, and count all my blessings


Don’t ask what that word is. A certain rat and his weird words has rubbed off on me.

It’s Monday, and I’m way behind on everything. I’ll blame last Thursday’s turkey, and the fact that I had to drive long distance to bring my eldest home for the short break. It was good to see her though. In a few short weeks, she’ll be back for a longer break. And then I can make her drive me everywhere.

But today, after I finish freezing the rest of my 25 pound bird, I need to fold laundry. I’m supposed to go Christmas shopping, but I’d much rather be sitting in my chair, crocheting things I’ll never finish – and catch up on my shows. Yep. I’m a slacker. And it takes being screamed at to get my ass off the computer or out of my chair. I don’t dare sit to crochet, knit, or anything else for that matter during the holiday season.

Oh well. Time to get a move on. I had my hour of fun on Toontown Rewritten.

But first, coffee – or I just might crawl back into bed, which could very well end my year with papers.

Ibuprofen Thoughts 

Here comes a have you ever kind of story.

Have you ever been just relaxing, minding your own business whilst watching television and creeping the internet – when you suddenly have an “OW! What the hell was that?” kind of moment?

I was all curled up, sat sideways in an extremely bad posture that would’ve gotten me the ruler in Catholic grade school.  Something made me cough, which promptly caused a sharp pain around my upper left flank area.  After a quick assessment to determine I wasn’t having a heart attack, followed by certain careful movements, I not so calmly decided either something in my back is pinched again, or I strained a muscle earlier in the day during one of my asthmatic coughing fits.  I’m guessing the latter is the case.

So, since 5 a.m., I’ve been awake, waiting for ibuprofen to start working – which can be anywhere from 10 minutes to almost 2 hours, depending on various conditions.

Meanwhile, as I wait, I’ve browsed the internet, checked my inbox, and played a few rounds of let’s search Google to see if I’m dying.  Yep.  I’m that person who as I search how long it takes for ibuprofen to work, my mind races with thoughts like will this pain stop and why me.

After my short lived stint on WebMd  (which told me I have a life threatening condition), I headed over to Tumblr in an attempt to redirect my hypochondriac thoughts.

Those thoughts turned into things like

This probably isn’t going away soon

 I need to poop

 I’m thirsty

 But I just had a drink of water 

 If I have a drink, I’ll have to pee too

 Should I just get up?

 Why am I still in pain?

 Now I’m hungry

 But my hurtburn just went away!

 John Stamos is freaking HOT AF.

 Thanks, Tumblr, for the great pics!

 Oh look. A picture of David Garrett too. 

 I wonder what time it is in Japan right now

 I don’t need to Google that because I’ve trained my mind to quickly figure it out.

 I hope it doesn’t snow today 

And finally

I’m exhausted … next week.


 Welcome to my brain.  Good night.  Oh wait.  It’s morning.


Extra Thicc

Whoops! I spelled that wrong – on purpose. I promise it wasn’t click bait!

I just asked for some recommendations for a floor mat for people with bad, arthritic knees. I’m currently planning out a floor exercise routine. It’s going to require a special mat, though. Any time I kneel, I want to cry. This has been the case for years.

Of course, people are giving me all sorts of yoga mat recommendations, but none of them are what I want. They’re all too thin for my liking.

I guess I should’ve specified soft and extra thick.

And WHY is this the majority result when I search Tumblr for an ‘extra thicc‘ image?

But, given the mentality of some of the folks in the group I belong to, the comments section would’ve exploded with a plethora of inappropriate gifs – followed by an avalanche of other comments from the easily offended. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy inappropriate. God knows I need a good laugh to balance out my daily crying.

I guess I’ll just see what recommendations accumulate. No need to start a war in an already dramatic group.

Bull In A China Shop

Here comes a minor rant. But it’s kind of funny. Especially to those who might be in the same boat.

Who here has a clumsy spouse?

I really can’t have anything nice in the house. At least once a day, I hear “Son of a bitch” or “God damnit!” – followed by things being thrown or slammed around. There are days where I don’t even bother asking anymore. In fact, I just avoid the area altogether. I might walk into the kitchen of wrath, and get blamed for booby trapping everything.

And then there are days where I’m just as clumsy. For instance, when I was going to bed. Just inside the doorway of my room sat a vacuum cleaner, which I proceeded to break my little toe on at two in the morning. And the other day, when I got accused of alcohol abuse.

You see, I’m so short, I need to stand on stools to get anything from our kitchen cupboards. Including the bottle of Jack Daniels on the top shelf, where my husband hides it from me. I can’t tell you how many things I’ve dropped whilst playing catch in the middle of pulling items forward with a spatula. All I know is, it’s time to replace three broken shot glasses.

There is no such thing as gingerly in my family. Hence why I don’t buy fragile things anymore.

Have I mentioned my tendency to zap electronics? In the eight years I worked in a photo developing lab, I managed to short out two motherboards on some of the machinery. I’m lucky I still have a heart, and tend to wonder if some of my irregular heartbeats are due to how often I’ve gotten electrocuted on things – even on running water in the bathroom sink.

I’ll PEE On You!

Y’all would be proud of me. Well, at least my closest friends and family would.

I actually left my house today. Here’s an even bigger shocker. It was for holiday shopping. OH MY GOD! Check Cara for a fever. My best friend would certainly be checking me. I’m such an evil grinch, that I threaten my husband whenever he turns Christmas music on before Thanksgiving Day. And now, between him, my daughter, and a few of my Facebook friends, it has become a regular joke to piss me off as soon as school starts.

Considering my moderate germophobia, I tend to avoid shopping at all costs. Last year, most of my shopping was online. Taking the alarming spike in crime where I live into account, I won’t risk having packages stolen from my front door. So, between getting myself a P.O. box and shopping, I think I just might do okay – unless we have ice storms.

Three years ago, I did a nice little stunt in a parking lot when I was getting out of my vehicle – twice. Had any rando seen me, they might’ve thought I was attempting ice dancing, or some weird shit to get attention. After being yelled at numerous times by my husband, I haven’t left my house much since then. Even in good weather, because apparently, I’ve forgotten how to even walk without tripping on my own two feet.

But back to shopping earlier today. I woke up, debated for an hour or so whilst attempting to go back to sleep, and finally gave up. I threw my hair into a pony tail, covered my half-assed job with a baseball cap, got dressed, and took off for the Salvation Army. Now, before you judge, I love going there for CDs and occasional treasures which people accidentally get rid of, not knowing the worth of what they just gave away for free. I also like to find comfortable t-shirts for wearing around the house.

Since Wednesdays are 50% off all clothing, I had to take a look through some t-shirts before I continued my day in other stores. Until …

There were literally at least three people in every aisle of the damn store! I don’t usually complain about people being too close – if it’s someone I know, or I’m at least familiar with them. But in a place like Salvation Army (someone I know calls it SLIME-ATION Army), you never know who is touching things, or what plague they might have. Excuse me, but no thanks. Get away from me. I’ll pee on you if you come too close.

Yep, I’m that person. No offense, folks. I just have a problem with germs and claustrophobia. Our Salvation Army is large, but it is crammed with long rows of clothing, with very little space for people to walk through. It’s uncomfortable AF, and I probably will not return on family day. I might throat punch someone if they get too close.

Meanwhile, today wasn’t a complete waste. I managed to accomplish what I set out to do.

I Have A Problem

Straight from my childhood chronicles. OH, YAY! Time for some embarrassment.

Let me set the scene for everyone.

I grew up next door to my life long best friend. Most of the time, either of us were at each other’s house. Sometimes, we would just walk in the front door without even knocking. No big deal. Our families were used to it.

When I was about ten years old, the neighbors were having a huge party. Relatives from out of town were there. Everyone was outside on a nice summer day. The grill was going, the radio was playing great country music, and at least a dozen kids were in the yard, including myself. I can’t recall a lot of details, but at one point, my friend’s dad joined us kids in a circle, and we started throwing a frisbee back and forth.

You know how when you’re a kid, you don’t really think about controlling your bodily functions when you’re having fun? Well, I had to go to the bathroom, and I figured I could hold it a few more minutes. At least until the circle diminished to the winner – which was happening quickly anyways.

WELL, needless to say, some rather loud gas escaped when it was my turn to throw.  My stupid body betrayed me at the wrong time.  

After a bunch of kids and a few adults dropped to the ground with laughter, I ran into the house, went about my business as quickly as possible, and got back outside to finish our frisbee game – with a little commentary from dad #2 (my best friend’s father).

“Alright, everyone. Listen carefully. It’s Cara’s turn to throw the frisbee.”


Time to go home… … …

And that’s my embarrassing story of the week.

PS: These days, my body betrays me a lot.  It sucks getting older.