What's a Casi, Anyway?

Recently, many people have been telling me how they read my blog (insert a million tiny clapping hands and a jump/squeal from me), but they've also been telling me that they can literally hear my voice saying these words. (Interestingly, so can Joel...as I sit in front of the computer...and type them...and say each one aloud...as he watches the news...and shushes me.) Seriously, too many people to count (if you can't count to like, three) have told me they hear my voice in these words. And I think, when they say this, "well, this is me. All me. Right here on the interweb. I am who I am." Which brings up the question: Who is Casi Clark, anyway?

So I made a list of things that are pretty uniquely Casi and, without further ado, here they are:

I look innocent enough. But what I'm drinking there? It's Awesome Juice.

1--First of all, my name is Casi. Pronounced CAH-see. Not Casey, not Cathy, not Cass-I. Plain and simple. And it's spelled with a mere four letters. Try and get that part right. (It took Joel four months to get it right, but he might get pissed for me telling that story, so I will later when he's not reading over my shoulder.)

2--I'm late. Always. Casi time runs anywhere from 5 - 15 minutes later than real time. When I'm scheduling work stuff, I always write it in my calendar fifteen minutes earlier than it is. I set my clocks 15 minutes ahead. My family tells me things start 15 minutes before their actual start time. None of this helps. I'll still stroll in late with some lie about what happened.

3--I have a man voice. I've come to terms with it in my old age, but it used to really bother me. It's probably deeper than your SO's voice (if your SO is a dude) and maybe even your dad's (I know he's a dude). When my friends get really sick, they say they sound like me. When I get really sick, I am mistaken for a man in drive-thru speakers and over the phone. When I was in the first grade, Ms. Rinaldi, my teacher, yelled across the room at me that I have a deep voice that carried, and, thus, I had to be quieter than the other kids. Had she said that to 29 year old Casi, I would have told her she just hears me better because what I am saying is funnier than what anyone else is saying anyway.

Me? Oh, I'm hilarious

4--I fancy myself to be quite the comedian. When I am in a group of people--especially my peeps--it is my number one goal, above all else--to make people laugh. I will exaggerate the truth, say inappropriate things, and flat out lie to make people laugh. And if I do, my mission is accomplished.

5--I cuss a lot when I'm doing it. I cuss mostly out of anger or comedic effect, but saying butt, shoot, crap, meanie, and freaking is not nearly as funny as their adult counterparts. I love throwing in a well-placed cuss word and watching the crowd fall apart in laughter. (Unless this is only in my mind, and I'm the modern day, chick equivalent of Andrew Dice Clay, and people just laugh awkwardly hoping I'll stop talking. But in my mind--which is what counts anyway--I am f*cking hilarious.)

Me ignoring your voicemail

6--I will not listen to your voicemails. Ever. If you call, I'll call you back, but don't say, "did you get my message?" The answer is always no. There are people in my family, who, when I call back will say, "well, listen to my voicemail, that's why I left it." At which point, I say okay, hang up, and glance down at the hundreds of voicemails I'll never listen to. And still don't. So don't leave them.

7--I'm kind of a bad driver. When I'm driving, I'm too busy doing important things like talking to whoever's with me, painting my nails, eating, changing clothes, putting on an imaginary concert, watching dumb people on the street, and finalizing my plans to conquer the world. I can't be bothered with frivolous things like watching, reacting, breaking, or not speeding.

8--I have the messiest car in the world. I live in my car now more than ever so it has only gotten worse. I told Destiny today that I am not allowing myself to have peanut butter or chocolate in my car anymore, because every visible (and invisible because I have some high-tech sh*t in my car) surface is covered in chocolate and melted peanut butter. There is never any telling what you will find in my junk yard of a car either. My boss got into my car one day and found a beer can and a pair of little boys' underwear in my floorboard. I'm sorry, you gotta enter at your own risk, man.

Maybe the best picture of me ever taken.
And by me, I mean my cans.

9--I shorten everyone's name and/or give them a nickname. Back when my peeps and I were all going to Ninki and eating hibachi all the time, one of the little (pretend) Japanese servers said, "I know you, you make every name little," or something to that effect. So people know me by the way I give nicknames. Important people. Clearly. Typically I will shorten your name first. Like calling Destiny Dee. Then I will make it long again. Now I call her Dee Dirty Dancer. It's how I roll.

A happily fed Cas

10--I can be the meanest, grumpiest, angriest person in the world if you do not feed me properly. My blood sugar drops and all hell breaks loose. When we were in Costa Rica, I threatened to break up with Joel if he didn't feed me soon. Then when he offered me a slice of bread, I turned and stormed away. I ignored him and berated him until he took me to a resort that served a seven course meal. I don't understand it either. Someone recently called it feeling hangry. And, boy, do I get hangry. We have about a three hour window between meals, and if that meal is not right in front of me when I'm ready, I turn over tables and knock down little kids. I can't help it. It's just who I am.