If You Don't Know Where You Are Going, Any Road Will Get You There.

As I sit here at work I realize just how bored I am during the week, 8am Monday to 5pm Friday. My entire life has led me to this- writing software code and monitoring databases. By description, I may seem like your basic nerd. Writing code, photo shopping faces to super star body's, reading spoilers to True Blood, creating a blog.....

If you feel that way, you may stop reading now.

The truth is I am much weirder than anyone I have ever met (aside from a few of my weird friends) that I can't help but wonder how I got this way. Furthermore, could it be that everyone is just as weird as me but don't project their weirdness the way I do?

Some could blame my mother. Her "cool-mom" mentality along with her being naive to raising children, she let me get away with anything. Well, except for the time I squeezed her boob to see how big they really were. After that day, I had new aspirations in life.

Some could blame my father. After asking most of my friends I found out it is not normal for fathers to fart in the car and then lock all the windows. Or to hock a luggy out the passenger window while someone is occupying the seat. Good to know.

Or you could blame my sister, Rachel. While she meant well, I still have nightmares of her chasing me around the house with scissors and hair bleach. I saw what she did to my Life-Size Barbie---no way was that happening to me! And her laugh. That evil laugh will haunt me forever. That laugh was so loud and morose that it was the only thing that caught my parent's attention and stopped me dead in my tracks.

Then, there's my "Step-peoples." And I call them this because there are just way too many for one family. Beth, my step mom, and Louis and Mike, my step-bros, have been with me the longest. I knew we'd hit it off the first time we all met. We went to the circus in my dad's "newly-single-man-jaguar-he-couldn't-afford." Rachel and I were buckled in the left seat, Louis and Michael in the right. It was as if we were lifelong friends the way my sister and I leaned towards our door, and the boys toward their door.

Personally, I think it was Columbia that messed me up. Moving there at such a young age exposed me to more Jews than most people meet in a lifetime. And with Jewish people comes a whole new level of weird. Oy Vey Zmir!

To Be Connected or Not to Be Connected?

When I was little, my mom used to put me on a leash. At the time, I thought nothing of it. In fact, I kinda thought it was cool being connected. In my moms eyes, I was safe from kidnappers.


It wasn't until later in life that I found out the true reason.


My family thought I was mentally challenged.


It was this big dark secret that they thought would never come out. But like all secrets, this one had a way of resurfacing.


When I was younger, a lot of mental diseases/illnesses weren't widely known. I'll be the first to admit I had a few minor problems that (unfortunately) carried over into my adulthood. Since this is my tell-all site, I will explain them to you as best I can.


1) The grunt
2) The neck twitch
3) The eye twitch
4) The jaw bite
5) The itching
6) The snorting


No wonder my family thought I was challenged. But fear not my friends, I am in fact normal. 


Well, as normal as an ADD/Turrets/Asthmatic can be. I know what you all are thinking, "Wow shes asthmatic!" But let me tell you, having ADD and Turrets is no field day either!


I constantly feel the need to blink. My neck is always in pain so I'm always readjusting it. I always fear I wont be able to breathe if I don't snort and clear my throat. I itch because I am allergic to everything.


So rather than address the problem, my parents thought it was best to just keep me on a leash.

Confessions of a Jewisholic

To those of you who know me, you know I am full out Jew. Born and raised my sistah. However, what does that really mean?


Yes, I went to Jewish sleep away camp for 9 summers growing up.


Yes, I had 4 bar/bat Mitzvahs a weekend for the entire 7th-8th grade.


I had my own Bat Mitzvah.


I go to services when prompted by my parents.


I did birthright and went to Israel for 10 days.


I went to Hebrew school 3 times a week for 5 years.


But lets recap here:


Sleep away camp. We counted down the days til we saw the boys camp. When we finally saw the boys, we snuck off and did who knows what with them in an empty bunk. In between seeing the boys, we practiced making out by kissing each other and offering suggestions. Then at night time, we would talk to the dead via the ouiji board and go exploring. As we got older and still attended camp, we would try to find ways to sneak off camp grounds--without getting caught.


Oh Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. A simple excuse to hook up with boys and explore our new found sexuality. I mean, what do you expect, putting 100 hormonal 13 year olds in a hotel for 4 hours. Things were bound to get weird. I believe it was in the phone booth at a Bar Mitzvah that I first got felt up. It was on the bus from synagogue to the party that I saw my first penis. And most importantly, it was at a Saturday night Bat Mitzvah where I first got so intoxicated I couldn't make Sunday afternoon's bar mitzvah--BTW, Sorry for missing your special day Andrew Zimmerman! I'm sure the $200 per person you wasted on me was barely missed in the scheme of things.


My Bat Mitzvah. What a joyous occasion I will never remember. Not because I was drunk, but I was so overwhelmed that my ADD kicked into turbo speed and before I knew it, my special day was over. All I know is, it was probably the best day of my life. Learning the hebrew and shit was annoying, don't get me wrong. But, back then I thought I had the best voice ever and loved singing for people (ok, ok I still do--whatever). SO basically the 350 people I invited had to come watch/listen to me sing. Dude, life does not get better than that. Also, as I mentioned before, they had to watch my friend sand I dance. Jews really must be the chosen ones because they showcase each one individually at their 13th birthday and everyone watching has to pretend to be entertained.


Growing up my parents would make me go to services. I never complained--in fact, I looked forward to it! I had so many friends and hot men at my synagogue, it was the perfect social event. I honestly met soo many people at services (well, my group of friends hung out in an empty classroom most the time)...



Birthright is an awesome experience. Basically these rich jews pay for you to go to the prettiest place on earth, get drunk/stoned and have sex with Israeli soldiers. You are an idiot if you don't go. Yea, I did feel a connection to my ancestors, it's kind of hard not to. The entire city of Jerusalem is just a shrine to the past. It is pretty cool how so much of the past still remains today. But outside of Jerusalem, let's say, Tel Aviv, it is party central. I've been to a shit ton of places in the world and NO ONE can party like the Jews in Tel Aviv. Furthermore, every Israeli man is smokin hawt, and unlike Christians, they are down for the get down. No waitin til marriage bull crap--Jews know what they want and they make it happ'n cap'n! If I had to chose one main reason why I love being Jewish, its Israel, hands down!


Hebrew school. God bless my poor hebrew school teachers. We literally never got anything done because my friends and I were "the popular Jews" that sat in the back of the classroom and talked the entire time. Whereas in real school, I was a great student, in hebrew school, I was a teachers worse nightmare. I literally talked and talked and the more the teacher scolded, the more I talked, until she finally kicked me out of class (which I had hoped for) because then I would go to the lounge and watch tv until that shit was over.


So I guess what I am trying to say is through being Jewish, I have become an expert sexually, received the attention I longed for and deserved, tested my sexuality and chose men, and practiced getting drunk for the years of alcoholism to follow. I wonder if all religions are like this. Are religions even a thing anymore? I know they were cool back in the day when there was no technology or alcohol but I mean, its almost 2012. What purpose do they really serve now?


When people ask me what religion I am, I always say "boo-ish." Because yea, I was born and raised Jewish so through my family I am; but, through life experience, I see I relate more to Buddhism. Buddhism isn't so much a religion like the 3 main ones, it's more a way of life. It helps you get in touch with yourself which to me makes sense considering you have to live with yourself the longest.


But overall, I just don't know about religion anymore. I just saw the skit about Tebow and Jesus from SNL. SO hilarious, by the way. But I totally get it... I just don't understand how this man, Tebow, can think Jesus is the reason hes playing well. How about the fact that your a fucking large man and know how to play the game (that's all I'm gonna say cause that's the extent of my football knowledge).


To end this, I'd like to say:

Okay, I'm famous

So I was at a party Friday night when my guy friend starting talking to me. He asked if I wrote a blog...Obviously I said no, since I only share this blog with my closest friends.


Well, good thing I took precautions prior to starting my blog last year. I made up a fake name and changed the name and locations of all people and things I talk about. Thank god.


My friend called me out and said "Hmm, weird because the girl who wrote this blog just got back from Costa Rica and just went to the redskins game."


Fuck, how did you know? How could you possibly know?


Low and behold, there I was, right there on barstool.com. At first I was embarrassed, but you know what, fuck it. Thank you all for making me famous. Furthermore, thanks for providing me with a few good chuckles. I just found out that there actually is a real live Brooke Carter, and yes, she is busted. (not saying Im not, its fun for you all to think I'm a fat ugly pooping chick).


Also, the comments about being turned on, sorry but that's gross. This blog is CLEARLY not for turning guys on--Infact, it was only intended for my girlfriends to laugh at and be entertained. A lot of the stuff I write about is completely true--However, I do fabricate a lot to make people be like "Holy shit, this girl is whack." So, reading through those comments, I realize I have accomplished my goal!

So, thanks for making me famous. I know who I am, I am confident in who I am, and quite frankly, I just don't give a fuck. 

"Brooke Carter"

Cuando en (rome) Costa Rica

Desayuno

Every morning the resort offered a free breakfast.

More coming soon...

Venga Zip Lining!

If you have never zip lined before, I highly recommend it! The thrill of the air whipping at you at full force while examining a tropical jungle is exhilarating. Edwin was our main zip line helper but he brought along with him Ronald, Marvin, and Nelson. Personally, my favorite was Ronald, as he only knew 4 english words (“hello”, “goodbye”, “break”, and “death”) and challenged my Spanish-speaking skills.

During a break, everyone was drinking their waters and I couldn't stand the silence. So naturally, I started to let the crew into our life, describing family secrets and what not.

“So, what’s weird is that Rachel didn’t even need to use your helmets for zip-lining because she has her own”

(This girl is weird, why is she talking?)

“Yea, hers is purple though.”

(what? why?)

“Well, when she was little she was at la playa and a big wave come and her cabeza go BOOM! And now, as you see, she is as she is. Very sad! Her parents (I point) are clearly good people for letting her stay at their house. And although her dog house in the back has no heater, she makes do with the cotton balls they gave her to keep her warm”

Needless to say, the entire crew was in hysterics and, surprisingly, didn’t doubt my story. The rest of the day they were paying EXTRA close attention to Rachel, for now she was a big liability. And, of course, Rachel did her best to play the part. At times Edwin was frustrated with Rachel but he clearly never dealt with a zip-liner that supplied her own helmet before. Perhaps now they will make a new rule.


A la playa

One day, Rach and I decided to separate from the  family. We waited patiently at the bus stop for the arrival of el autobus but slowly became irritated when it did not appear. Many taxi cabs, and regular vehicles for that matter, stopped and asked if we wanted a ride but “no gracias,” we did not. Finally, a taxi slowed and the man spoke perfect english saying “I’m going to the beach anyway, the ride can be free.” Thus, we boarded the car and headed to the beach, feelin VIP status.

Upon entering the beach, we were greeted by all sorts of characters. One for buying chairs/umbrellas, a surf instructor, fish? only 4000 colones, “Jet skis--for you, fifty dollar chica”. Where to begin? We got a chair and settled down our belongings. ‘Coco Slater’ would not take
“no gracias” for an answer and we got him to teach us surf lessons for $20 a person for 2 hours. In between laughing hysterics, Rachel and I shortly learned the basics to riding the ocean. Easier done on land than in water but alas, it was time to put our skills to the test.

If at first you don’t succeed, pick yourself up and try again. If at second you don’t succeed, laugh about it and try again. If at third you don’t succeed, give up and smoke pot. And thats exactly what we did. Turned out not only was Coco Slater a renown surfer, but also a legal medical marijuana grower. Que fabolosa! We went behind the reefs, staring at the aqua blue ocean, and got ridiculously stoned.

Now let me tell you about Coco Slater. Coco Slater happens to be a twin. We weren’t exactly sure if his real name was Mikal or Jeff but he was one and his twin brother was the other. Mikal/Jeff was missing about 3 teeth (if I had to guesstimate) and continually showed off his body, revealing, at times, a bit too much. Coco liked many things that other boys in their twenties do-- surfing, smoking, drinking, Brazilean ballroom fighting (google it, still unsure what the F that is ) and picking his nose. Upon calling him out one time, he decided I was a comedian. However, I don’t think that pointing out someones habits constitutes comedial status. But, Rachel and I decided on day three that sarcasm simply doesn't translate into Spanish.

Special Thanks

A special thanks to all our new friends who helped make this trip amazing!

Samuel (Sanchos taqueria) --ugh I will miss my mouthgasms! Even if your wife is a 300 pound Costa Rican woman, you are still cool in my book.

Tiffany and new husband (random ppl in restaurant)-- Thanks for pretending to care about our stories!

Mikal/Jeff/Coco Slater (surf instructor)-- thanks for....everything! I will miss riding the waves with you. I love that we can put a face to the stories we tell about you by viewing Facebook. Perhaps you could have one picture on there that displays your infamous mouth :)

Edwin and crew- Thanks for being extra nice and cautious with my friend Rachel. She doesn’t know how to say it but she thanks you!

Oscar (breakfast server)-- Thanks for eventually showing your true colors! A little old school in your style if I do say so myself, but young love is funny that way isnt it?

Davy (breakfast server)--thanks for putting up with us each morning. Thanks for being patient with our spanish and helping Rachel create naughty love letters in Espanol. Gracias!

Lady from Agua Azul-- Thanks for making my friend Rachel happy by saying she was a delightful eater. Everyone needs to know they are good at something and you truly made her day.
Zealand and family-- Thanks for being such a cute 2 year old Zealand. Zealand’s dad--thanks for being my #1 DILF and providing amazing eye candy our whole trip. If I happen to find a man half as amazing as you, I shall be a lucky lady. PS. Call me if your ever single--I think I’d make a wonderful step-mom.

A True Patriot.

So 25 guys came to DC for the Redskins vs Patriots game. I knew about 3 of them and only through a mutual friend. However, they invited me to tag along and I could NOT pass up the opportunity to be the only girl with 25 guys.

The journey began at 9am when I ventured into DC. I met the guys at the hotel and started drinking beers with them. Since I had just gotten back from Costa Rica, I literally had $30 to my name and therefore did not plan on going to the game.

They planned to take a party bus to the game and I was more than excited. We boarded the bus at 10 and continued drinking.

A complete rookie mistake I made! As I have never been to football tailgate OR game, I completely didn’t realize the traffic jam we would be in on the way there. This being said, I forgot to pee before I left...

About an hour into the trip I had to pee to the point where I could not hold it. Being the only girl on the bus, the guys did not understand. I seriously thought I may pee my pants so I ran to the bus driver for any sort of support. In my most polite way I said to him, “If you don’t pull this fucking bus over right now I swear I will pee on your fucking head.” He immediately pulled off to an exit.

There were no gas stations or stores for me to pee so we found a secluded parking lot. I was so happy that I would finally relieve my self and sprinted off the bus.

Apparently, when you have to go to the bathroom so bad you think your going to explode, running is not recommended. in fact, its highly highly discouraged (I’m not sure if there is research on this but trust me, please).

As I ran away from the bus, with 25 men watching my every move, I began to pee uncontrollably. I felt the warm liquid drip down my pant leg but was undeterred. I would simply act as if it had not happened. I finally got in between 2 cars and pulled my pants down to check out the damage. The damage was done and a huge puddle of liquid was clearly visible in my womanly area. No use crying over spilt milk right? So as I prepared myself in a nice squat to finish peeing, I heard someone running towards me.

It was on of the guys and he ran by real quick before vomitting (not becuase of me, because of the 10 hard boiled eggs he had that morning). But had he seen what I was doing? Did he know I pee’d myself?

I slowly started the treacherous walk back to the bus. Heart beating, palms sweating, body shaking. Be cool, play it off. I stepped onto the bus and sat immediately. I heard all sorts of chants from the guys making fun of women but not one did I hear about peeing your pants. Few! I was in the clear. Then, the thrower upper entered the bus and winked at me.

Fuck. What did that wink mean? Had he seen?

“You really do have a nice ass” as he smiled at me.

“Umm, yea I suppose I do” So it turned out that’s all he had seen. Thank god.

The rest of the bus trip I remained in my seat and at the tailgate I stayed always facing ppl, never revealing my back side. Eventually it dried up and I was back to me again. The game ended up being fun except when I was left alone with a guy.

I don’t know what it is about their group of friends, but when I was alone with them they each (separately) were like “lets pretend we are boyfriend and girlfriend” and would put their arms around me and kiss my cheeks. Maybe guys like having a girl by their side during a football game, to have someone to share joy with? Who knows, but I definitely didn't hate the attention.

I Wonder Why He's Not Into Me?...

When it comes to dating, I like to consider myself a guru. I've had so many worthwhile experiences that I figured I should share them with you all, in hopes that I can pass my wisdom on.


I wonder why he's not into me....


(WARNING: these are very true stories!!)

1. He said I had the worst eating habits he's ever seen and I need etiquette classes.
2. I told him his business website sucks and I'd redo it for free.
3. I told him to cut the chord with his mama and hang out with a real woman.
4. I clogged his toilet with a poop the size of Alaska.
5. I threw up in his bathtub because  i needed the toilet for the other half of my body.
6. He couldn't find his boxers on my messy floor and when I finally found them and threw them at him--turns out they were not his.
7. He gave me a fake name and has a girlfriend--which I learned by stalking him on facebook.
8. I threw up on him.
9. I told all his friends that THIS was going to be the one I marry.
10. I made him buy me a whole pizza and then rubbed it in his face.
11. I don't wear underwear and there was something wet in my woman area.
12. He told me he had to focus on his Scrabble game for the next 4 months in order to win the Scrabble championship.
13. He made out with my best friend in the backseat of the cab I was in.
14. I told him his fingers were like Edward Scissors hand.
15. I farted at an intimate moment...

For now, this is all I can think of. I know I'll think of more to add later!

"A (wo)man loses his illusions first, his teeth second, and his follies last."

For the most part, I am not a self-conscious person. Occasionally, I get concerned if I think someone does not like me, or if someone is making fun of me. But as for my image, I am completely content. Almost completely content.

I was born with bad teeth....The end.

But you've asked for a story so I suppose I could go into detail. I was born with what you call “peg laterals.” In basic terms, my teeth look like pegs. Not all my teeth, only the two surrounding my two front teeth (my fang teeth, if you will). Growing up I was always afraid to smile because I did not want people to make fun of me. Luckily, my uncle AND my step dad are both dentists. Did I say luckily?

My uncle began my tooth-saga a month before my bat mitzvah in 2001. My mom was on-again off-again with her boyfriend so he wasn’t as reliable as my uncle at the time. My uncle put bonding over my two teeth to disguise them as real teeth. I should also mention that he never thought braces were necessary because my bite was good.

Two months later, while eating pizza, one of my teeth fell out. Okay, fine, no big deal. I go back to my uncle’s and he fixes me up. My bonding holds until high school, a prominent time in my life. I was trying to figure out who I was while trying to impress others. Hard to do when your missing one of your front teeth. My other tooth fell out a week before high school began.

Fine, no big deal. My uncle fixed me up.

My teeth surprisingly stayed put in my mouth until freshman year of college. I was eating lunch with new friends--chicken and rice. The rice was not cooked all the way and when I bit down, my tooth cracked in half. Ugh, fine, I guess not a big deal. I mean I had to figure out how and when to go home to get it fixed. At this point, I had become an expert at talking with my mouth mainly closed; however, it was not fun.

My step-dad decided it was time to take the next step. Veneers. I had such high hopes for the veneers, as they were pricey and highly recommended. And boy, did they look good. I was so happy with my new veneers. I smiled every chance I got! Furthermore, everyone complimented me on my teeth, Me! So weird.

And then one day I woke up and one of my teeth were gone. My teeth didn't even give me a warning. I felt used.

Okay, kind of a big deal. These veneers were very expensive and on-top of everything, my high hopes had been shot.

The story continues about 4 more times with my veneers falling out. Finally, my uncle admits that I have an overbite that is causing my bottom teeth to hit my top ones at an awkward position. Fabulous.

So about two weeks ago, I was eating subway and my tooth cracked again. I had become pretty handy with my tooth. I learned that if it was an even crack, and if I was able to save the part that fell off, I could go to CVS and buy denture cream and stick that bad boy back in my mouth. And so I did. What’s annoying about this solution is I cannot eat with the glued tooth in my mouth. Every time I wanted to eat I had to take out the tooth, eat, then stick it back in. It wasn’t so horrible, plus no one knew anything was wrong with my tooth.

So the next weekend I went out with my roommates. I wasn’t completely drunk but I was definitely not sober. As always, I was looking forward to my late night pizza feast. God I love pizza. Anyway, I bite into my pizza like there’s no tomorrow and it was so good. I take my second bite and its just as good as the first, but a bit crunchier. I’m so tired of these pizza places burning the crust so much that its hard to bite into.

Oh shit....that was my tooth.

Unfortunately, this story does not have an ending. My uncle was able to bond my tooth for the time being, but, knowing my mouth, it is not permanent. I tried to make this as entertaining a story as possible, but keep in mind it is still a sensitive subject that I continue to deal with. Thanks for your understanding.

Snow My God

"Yo te voy amor. Quando digas too. Y te abrasares. Baby toda la noche"

How did I get here? How did I get to be sitting on my friends kitchen counter, belting out the lyrics to "I'll make love to you" in Spanish with no definitive plan with my life.

I consider it to be the last hoorah of college. The last time we, the wolf gang, were really at it in full force. Of course, we hadn't decided to call ourselves "The Wolf Gang" until homecoming weekend the following year when we all returned to visit, but I think deep d

own we always knew.

Snow my god...

I'm not really sure how or where to begin this story. So I'll begin with a cat fight. Literally. My roommate Lindsay wanted to get a cat. I am highly highly highly allergic to cats so I told her I don't think so. She didn't like that answer and, like the mature adult she is, told me she did not believe that I was allergic to cats and would get a cat anyway.

The thing I loved most about Lindsay was her consideration towards others. She really had a way of brightening someone's day. Not only that, but she was the least selfish person I've ever known.

Snow my god...

So I was pissed, so pissed that it began to blizzard! All I knew was I COULD not and WOULD not be trapped in a house with her for an unknown amount of time. Thus, Lynn and I made the journey to Wood Hills, the neighborhood next to ours where our friends live.

Our school had cancelled classes for the next 3 days due to inclement weather. What were 16,000 college students to do for 3 days with no obligations? You guessed it, SING AND DANCE!

We were singing and we were dancing until Ashley turned the music off and read the infamous text message.

"Its from Drew. He said Chi Sigma is still having their bid cell AND they are ALL still dressing up!"

It's tradition for Chi Sigma to dress up on their bid cell in various Halloween and funky costumes. It isn't, however, tradition for girls to be present and/or wearing costumes... until this year!

"Bahahaha are you gonna wear the feather hat that goes with it?"

"Nah, I was thinking of wearing my scream mask instead--mix things up a bit"

"Haha I'm gonna wear my Marie Antoinette wig!"

"Ahhh soo great!"

So we all got dressed, put make up on, ate, and called a cab.

"Sorry ma'am but their ain't no cabs drivin' in this here weather"

Crap! How were we suppose to get all the way across town if no cabs or buses were running?

On a normal, hot, breezy, sun-shining day, when the weather is perfect for walking, and the air smells like roses, we would not walk to Chi Sigma. We would not walk to Chi Sigma if they bribed us with food/presents/gifts. We would not walk to Chi Sigma if we were being chased by an ax-murder...it's just way to far. But, so I'm told, anything can happen on a snow day.

The journey began at around 1pm. The blizzard was in full force, winds blowing around 60miles an hour, snow accumulating 2 feet. Did I mention we were in costumes?

We walked out of the neighborhood, down the main road, and onto campus.

2pm. We were still on campus.

3pm. Arrived at Chi Sigma. We were short 2--they just couldn't make it. All the men of Chi Sigma were playing in the snow outside their house. They all stopped what they were doing as we approached.

"Carter, what are you doing here!? This is Chi Sigmas ONLY!"

"What? Drew told us to come.."

And with that, we walked inside and made ourselves comfortable.

We were able to find someone with 4 wheel drive to drive us back to Wood Hills. At this point it was finally nighttime and we weren't the least bit tired.

Back at Ashley's house we hung out in the kitchen and sang 90's songs. It was probably the best experience of my life, sitting there with my best friends, singing and dancing, in full-out costumes. I think I was also sentimental at the time because I knew the end was near--we would soon graduate and this lifestyle we'd grown accustom to would cease to exist.

Most of my friends lived in Wood Hills. They had a scooter club that would meet on Tuesdays and go for a ride. Ashley happened to be a member and had a scooter lying around.

"We...should totally....go scooter on the iced roads"

"That is a great idea Joanne"

So Joanne and I began racing each other down the icy roads on a scooter. We were wearing tons of layers, so when we fell it didn't hurt too much. We were having the time of our lives!

..Until I fell and slammed my wrist against the hard ice. It hurt. But, now that I know real pain is when your toe nail comes off, I would say it was probably a pain of 8 on a scale of 10. It's convenient that I have carpal tunnel syndrome. Due to my horrible pain from carpal tunnel, I carry a wrist brace around, to put on when I hurt. This is what I used the remainder of Snow My God to keep my wrist safe from the blizzard.

Snow my god was a learning experience. It was a time to grow, a time to love and a time to be care-free all at the same time. We knew when the snow melted all of this would be over both physically and metaphorically. We will always have the memories of Snow my god to cherish in our heart, even if just for a week, we were the queens of the world.

This must be, pop

I’m kind of a really good dancer. Scratch that, I rock at dancing. Ever since I was little, I had a soft spot for dancing. Something about the way your body moves like it has a mind of its own. Often, when I lack the words to express myself, a simple dance movement would be all I need to get my point across.
Camp Louise. I truly cannot begin to tell you how much of my life has been impacted by this wondrous place in the mountains of Maryland. So I won’t (relax, I’d just rather give it it’s own story). For the sake of this story, I will disclose that Camp Louise offered many different activities. Dancing was of course one of them and so I decided I’d try out for the annual dance show. I tried out with three of my girlfriends. They all made the dance but I did not. I wasn’t too upset though because the second I didn't make it, dancing had suddenly become uncool. Weird how that worked out. Anyway, they were going to do a dance to my favorite song (at the time---ehh maybe ever) “Dirty Pop.” I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t. Just because I left the room every time they practiced does NOT mean I was jealous!

The night of the performance, when I saw the dance in it’s entirety, I was jealous. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t made the show. Obviously I was just as good as the rest of those girls.

........ And so, I made them teach me “Dirty Pop.”
I practiced Dirty Pop that entire summer. I was “Dirty Popping” in the bunk, in the dinning hall, in the shower, on the field, in the back seat windows up (ha just kidding). But you get my point. I just could not get enough!
So I had to show off my dance to a large amount of people. Thus, 3 weeks before my Bat Mitzvah, I taught the dance to 6 of my friends. We had a special introduction and then bam--we were Dirty Popping in front of all my biggest fans. I was front and center and when we finished the audience stood and clapped and I was feeling way too pleased with myself. I felt like Elle Woods from Legally Blond when she got that special program and she goes, “ME!” Look out JLO, here comes Brooke!

 I had my 5 minutes of fame at my Bat Mitzvah but I was ready to put it to rest. It was getting tough dealing the all the paparazzi and whatnot so I kind of laid low for the rest of middle school. It’s funny because when you’re a nobody, you always want to be famous, to be worshipped. But then when you finally attain that fame, its like, you just want to be a normal kid again. And that was my problem--I just wanted to be normal again.

So I put my Dirty Pop days on a shelf, to be opened at a much later time in my life.

And then college happened.

One night I was out at a house party with my roommates. I was Chatty Cathy with the people I knew and ignored those I did not. And then, it happened. When the song came on the loud speaker I’m not really sure what came over me. It was like I was 13 again and had to prove myself to these people. I had to show my college that, yea, I got them dancing skillz. It took maybe 30 seconds for the entire party to stop and watch me do my Dirty Pop. And then the fame.

Once again, I was famous for Dirty Popping-- but this time, it wasn’t going anywhere! You could say I was a celebrity at my college, which I know is ironic since N’SYNC’s album was called Celebrity--but I think its fate. For some reason I was meant to entertain the world with Dirty Pop. And in return, its saved my life.

Without Dirty Pop, I’m not sure I’d have some of the friends I do. I guess everyone has a talent that makes them unique. And this was it for me. This must be POP!

For a time, at least, I was the most famous person in the entire world.

As I've mentioned before, I am an amazing dancer. I dance both for my enjoyment and to entertain those around me. I dance like no ones watching, and I dance like everyone's watching.

Every year my sorority had a formal at a remote location. It was normally an entire weekend affair and we would get hotel rooms with our "sisters" and our dates.

It was sophomore year, the first year we were allowed to go to formal and I decided to share a room with Lynn and have a joint room with two other girls. The formal was on a boat in Annapolis. It was a pretty day, the sun was shining. None of this really has anything to do with my story.

We went to the hotel to get dressed and ready for the big night. I was so excited because I had another excuse to wear my junior prom dress again. This was my favorite dress, it was black strapless with a purple sash across the waist and a purple ruffle skirt bottom. More importantly, I looked hot in it. I have abnormally large boobs, for my tall height of 5 feet, and this dress accentuated me in the right places.

Once we were all dolled up, we began the pre-formal party in our hotel room. Nothing too extravagant, just the eight of us with a few drinks and some music on the side.

This was 2007. Britney Spears had already shaved her head and flashed her va-jay-jay, and then put out her "Blackout" album. This included such songs as "Gimme More" and "Piece of Me." Truly inspirational music.

"Gimme More" came on the playlist.

"Oh my goddddddddddd, Carter, (everyone at school called me by my last name) it's Gimme More!"

....So 2 weeks prior to this was Halloween. I have been told that I made up a dance to this song while in my Marie Antoinette costume. Clearly, I was expected to reenact this dance for my friends at this pre-formal party.

So I started making up a dance routine. I could tell my friends really liked it. In fact, they liked it so much they began to video tape it (is that even what it's called anymore?). They wanted to share with the world my amazing talent of dancing. Boy was I happy!

Immediately, when we got back to campus, my friend Lindsay put the video on YouTube. It was more for our own enjoyment in the sorority house, but occasionally we let others see the video clip.

It was funny for like a week. Then we got over it. Plenty of new dances came and went and life resumed as normal.

Thanksgiving 2007. I was with my dad's family that year. As usual, the adults sat on one end of the table and the" kids" sat on the other. My siblings and I caught up with each other's lives and whatnot. Then, when conversation began to dwindle down, my brother Louis was ready to start the next topic.

"So Brooke, I was bored at work the other day so I was google'ing everyones name. Did you know you're on a porn website?"

"Sayyyyyyyyy whattttt?"

"Yea it's like some Asian porn website and you're dancing in a black strapless dress to 'Gimme More.'"

hmm...I don't think there were any Asians in our room the night I did this dance for everyone?

"Ha-ha very funny."

"No....seriously"

I sprinted upstairs so fast you would've thought there was a pizza waiting for me up there. I sat down, typed my name into google, scanned the results for anything remotely Asian-looking, and clicked the link.

Sure enough, there I was dancing in my formal attire to "Gimme More" with Asian print on the site all around me. It wasn't exactly a porn website, it was more of a "this-girl-is-hot" website. I highlighted the text below my video's box, copied and pasted it into a translator. As it turns out, the caption for my video was, "American girl with big boobies." I was both flattered and disgusted.

I called Lindsay 20 times until she finally picked up.

"You NEED to take that video clip off YouTube RIGHT NOW!"

"I will when I'm finished my Thanksgiving dinner"

"No, NOW! Someone put the clip on an Asian porno website or something and now I'm famous in Asia!"

Hahahaha and five minutes later the video clip was deleted from YouTube.

It takes a hell of a lot to embarrass me. Like, I'm talkin' A LOT, and my five minutes of fame on the porno website was catastrophic enough to successfully do so.

I know one day I will be famous, but not like that, not by a Britney Spears song.

No Girl's Shit Is THAT Big!!

Spring Break 2008! Sophomore year!

We decided to go to Florida--me, my friend Lynn, and my friend Lizzie. Well, we didn't have a lot of money and Lizzie's friend Tom went to The U (University of Miami). I had met Tom a few months prior, and we hit it off pretty well. So it was set--we were going to stay with Tom for an entire week in the gorgeous city of Miami.

To say it was tight quarters could mean anything. But seriously, it was rooms the size of closets with 2 boys living in it....and then us 3 overstaying our welcome.

Skipping to the good stuff. Anyone who knows me knows that I can't go 5 hours without pooping. Yes, I said it, pooping. Poop Poop poop. Get over it. Girls poop! And I was blessed with the ability to poop multiple times during a day. Not only that, but I pride myself on being a quick pooper. Sometimes I can shoot those puppies out in a minute flat. Just one of my many talents.

So I was really into Tom and while I am very outgoing and loud and gross, I wasn't yet comfortable enough to poop in their one toilet. The first two days Lynn, Lizzie and I ran across the street to CVS to take care of our business. The third day, I was on my own. Neither of the girls had to go and refused to walk with me. I just couldn't hold it any longer.

I should mention here that Tom's dad owns half of the Chick-fila's in the US. Thus, we got it for free and ate it every day of our trip there.

I couldn't hold it. So, I went. It was a day they had other people over. I am notorious for blaming other people for my bodily mishaps. So I figured, if things went wrong, I'd blame the dumb blond who was there.

I put toilet paper on the seat. I turned the shower on to try to block out the stink. I sat on the seat and released stress from my toosh. It was quick, as normal. I finished, I wiped, I flushed.

I flushed.

I flushed.

I freak out.

"Lynn, Lizzie, come here NOW!"

"So...I just went number 2 and I'm pretty sure the toilet is clogged...what do I do?"

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

"You guys, its not funny, I'm freakin out. There's no plunger. I'm just gonna tell Tom it was there before me."

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

"Tom, I really need to pee but I can't because I'm too grossed out. Someone left a massive doodie in the toilet and it won't flush"

"Just keep trying, that toilet NEVER clogs, and trust me, these guys take some massive ones."

"I did and nothing! I'm going to pee my pants"

"Alright, let a real man handle this"...5 minutes later

"Holy f**ing shit! That is the biggest crap I've ever seen. Wow!"

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

"Seriously its some major terd nuggets floating in their!"
"I know! and Tom I really need to go. I saw that blond chick go in their before me. I'm like positive it was her!"

"No. This was no girl's doing. This had to have come from a big man. No definitely not a girl. Sick!"

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Tom leaves the room and returns with yellow caution tape. He posts the tape around the bathroom and warns everyone to not enter! He grabs a spatula from the kitchen and heads into the bathroom.

Returns 2 minutes later.

"Guys, we got a serious prob. I need to run across campus real fast and grab a plunger. It's mad annoying that whatever dude did this isn't steppin' up and fixing it. Be a mann"
BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

"Ok guys, seriously shut up! What am I gonna do? Should I just tell him? OMG he's going to think I'm a freak!"

NOOO never ever tell him...EVER!until now :)