I forgot to mention this weekend at Paul & Katie's BBQ, Paul's friend's 8-year-old daughter, Emily, asked her dad if he thought Princess Leia was Jewish. And he said to her, "Well, actually, Carrie Fisher played her, so...yes." And then I had to add, "There's a little known fact that Princess Leia's full name is "Princess Leia Rosenberg."

So much to say, no time to write, unfortunately...

This will all be over soon, this will all be over soon...

Sometimes I have this fear that I live my life saying those words in my head over and over... something's gotta change. That's it. Let's all move to Vegas and become showgirls.

Ok, so let's talk about this new movie coming out "Duplex." Um, wasn't that exact movie created in 1986 starring Shelly Long and Tom Hanks called "The Money Pit?" Call me crazy... I guess I'll just have to see it.

In other news, yesterday I had to go to (the newly renovated) Soldier Field for a pre-event site inspection, where I was greeted by a man who took one look at me and said, "Um, Soldier Field won't let you in wearing a dress." It's still a construction site, and luckily I remembered I had my gym clothes in my car, so I had to tell the dude to "not look" while I changed outside. So, I completed the site inspection wearing my "I'm a fucking rock star" Freakgirl tshirt, sweatpants, Reeboks, a hard hat and safety goggles.

I was hot.

My ex-boyfriend called me last night and half-jokingly asked me to apply for "The Amazing Race" (which I've caught a few random episodes, so I know what it's all about) with him. I think we'd make some good TV. We'd be the ex's, living in seperate cities, getting together to try and win a million (or whatever the prize is).

I joke with John a lot about why we still talk---how he just doesn't know what to do with his life since we've split up, how he's just lost without me, how could he leave the most beautiful girl in the world....I'm really a pain in the ass, I know this.

So we started to describe what the show would be like with us in it. I told him I'd sit in my video confessional and say that "By the end of this, I'd see him proposing," to which he replied, "America would hate me because I'd be yelling at you the entire way to get your ass in gear, and then propose to get a new partner." Dammit. heh.

Mmmmmmm....

Ladies, try to contain your excitement when I tell you this, but I was hit on this weekend by a guy playing cribbage using a deck of Hooters cards. We're talkin' quality here, people. I asked him if he thought Mandi (the queen of hearts), Holly (4 of clubs) or Britnney (9 of Diamonds) would be jealous, and he made some lame ass joke about me being an Ace. Ah, the hits just keep comin'... Feel free to list your favorite lame ass pick up scenerio below.

Sat., we spent 9 hours at Will's bar for the annual Muskie Fest. Will's is this little piece of Wisconsin right in Chicago. My friend, Laura, accidently got signed up to be in the Muskie Queen pageant and lost to the resident contestant, Patty. It was pretty damn funny, though, seeing her on stage in a little wool cap with flaps talking about why she should win this contest she didn't even mean to enter.

I went to the Art Institute of Chicago on Sunday afternoon (don't I just sound quaint...), and hung out with Grant Wood's American Gothic (some Spanish guy was trying to figure out why it was so famous and asked me---the least artsy person I know...I gave him as much info as I knew about it---that it was modeled after his dentist and his sister). I found out Picasso must of had a sense of humor from his painting entitled, "Crazy Woman With Cats." Lots of pretenious rich art people around, acting all 'cultured' and shit...that was entertaining in and of itself.

I also made quite possibly the world's best comfort food last night---Mac 'n Cheese with Ham. And it's not no Kraft shiznit, it's the real deal, yo.

All in all, pretty quiet weekend. You?

There was this guy I knew in college named Eddie. He was a year younger than me, a big, tall, lug-of-a-guy, and was one of the funniest people I had ever met. He was the type of guy if you were walking down the street and just saw him, you immediately got a huge smile on your face and started laughing. I remember having lunch with him at the Schroeder Hall's cafeteria, where I was enjoying my chicken gumbo when I bit down into something hard to only find out there was a paper clip in my gumbo. I'm glad I got to share that disgusting moment in food history with Eddie. He made it all better by making fun of me, and then the scary lunch lady who probably made it. I miss that son of a bitch.

At any rate, I heard from Eddie just the other day. He's moving to Chicago, and is looking for a job, so he emailed me and asked me for some advice. I offered to help him out in any way I could, so I offered to have him forward me his resume and a cover letter. So, he did, and I hate to say it, but Eddie's formality is a little lacking in the cover letter. And if I could retype his resume to a different design, I would. I don't want to offend the guy by telling him (in my mind) basic cover letter writing skills, so here his resume sits on my desk....not going to the HR manager. I'm wondering if anyone else has been put in this situation---I'm wondering if I should recommend someone that I'm not fully sold on myself. While Eddie is a hilarious guy, he just needs a little coaching....and maybe an English class or two. Do I re-write this for him and submit it? Or does it just kinda find it's way to my garbage can accidently?
Ugh.

Rigor mortis is setting in, I'm convinced.

How can the people at Bally's actually think that I would consider plunking down a serious amount of cash to not be able to move? So stiff....since Tuesday. I knew I was in trouble when right after my session, my muscles were already shaking. After our session, Jenny, the trainer who likes to take out her personal problems on her victims, i mean, clients, stretched me out. Like, she got out this table, asked me to lay down on it, then got on top of it and leaned into me while stretching out my leg. It probably looked a little homo-erotic (if you're into that type of thing) and I wonder how many guys can't leave the table until after they've calmed down a bit after her touching them like that. heh. ew.

So my question is, should I just get some Icy Hot, suck it up and keep working out? Or should I wait until my muscles fully recover before doing this all over again? I'm no workout guru, so I need to know these things. I did feel a lot better after doing it, even though I hate working out more than almost anything. People that say they "like" it are full of shit. I'm tellin' ya, we came up with all this technology for a reason, people. To NOT have to work hard. That's why they invented cars and machinery. And I'm still supposed to look like Kate Moss? Work with me here.

I sat down with a gin and tonic last night and watched"Survivor." I heart Rupert. He's America's Newest Favorite Sweetheart. heh.

Things I don't wish on anybody:

1) Going through (or watching a relative/close friend go through) a lengthy, painful illness
2) Cramps so bad you have to leave work
3) A personal training session with Jenny, the nazi-psycho bitch at Bally's
4) To have to sit through a marathon of "Newlyweds" on MTV.

That show is damn painful to watch... Yet, I continue to do so. Every week, I say to myself, "I'm not going to watch it." And the next thing you know, I'm listening to Jessica Simpson belch and bitch...sometimes at the same time. It pains me....right here. Right. Here.

This weekend, I went to see American Splendor, and I agree with all who have seen it---it truly is a great film. My favorite line? When Harvey is lying in bed, alone, and says, "Sometimes I feel someone lying next to me...like an amputee feeling a leg that isn't there."

Sex and the City last night---am I the only one that wishes Jules & Mimi was a real show? I'll admit it---I've scanned BBC America to see if it actually is, and sadly, no.

I had a pretty bad date this weekend. Quite possibly, the worst date ever. Wait....lemme really think that through....ok, besides the guy who once invited me over to his place for dinner only to eat alone, (because he had already eaten) in the dark (via candlelight because his apartment/house was that dirty and he was also that stupid)...or the time I picked out an engagement suit (on my birthday) for my ex-Palestianian-American boyfriend (who was arranged to be married to another woman)...yeah, it ranks probably 3rd worst.

Nothing tragic happened...he was just really boring to talk to and we had nothing in common. It happens. Poor soul...if he had known I was gonna write about it, maybe he would've tried harder to be less of a dipshit. heh. :: tears up business card :: Next!

On Sunday, I was trying to be a decent human being by going to support the local mom & pop owned "Buzz Cafe," a local coffeehouse (which serves a pathetic excuse for a menu, but I digress) so I could enjoy my book and maybe do a little writing.

Well, I must of missed the "Welcome to Hell" sign at the door because I was greeted by screaming kids, and parents too tired to care. I felt guilty that I don't have more sympathy (rue the day that it's my turn) , but when my goal was to enjoy a nice quiet afternoon and all you hear is "MAMAMAmammmAMMAMAMAMAMA," it kinda ruins it. I stayed for exactly 14 minutes until I couldn't take it anymore and practically ran (well, drove....but like, really fast) to the local Starbucks. It was much more quiet there, as Oak Park is one of the rare(r) cities that TRIES to give as much love as they can to the little guy. Charming, and annoying...all at the same time.

Um, so today's an uber slow day. I took a 3 hour lunch, (I'm not kidding) which involved margaritas...and Chinese food (?) with some other peeps from the office, yo. We rap with each other in the cubes and shit.

:: ugh, I hate my cubical life ::

At any rate, I'm going out with Jim to The Green Door Tavern tonight to check out Chris (see emails below) do some improv. I just called Jim to let him know that i'm gonna take the train down and asked if he could drive me home, which he agreed to....I just called him on his cell to ask, and while I could tell he was busy (I didn't keep him long at all) I could just tell that if this ever evolves to anything of substance, he won't like me calling him at work. The newness of the relationship is fun, because you can pretty much get away with anything, due to the "i want to impress you" status...cracks me up.

Tomorrow night, he wants to take me out to dinner...it's an all-Jim weekend. We'll see how it goes...

This morning, I put on some Johnny Cash, and cried my way to work. Someone has it on their radio right now (I'm sure some stations are going to be doing all day tributes). This is going to be a tough day...

I can't help but wonder...did I kill Johnny Cash?

My friend, Chris, and I were talking about him last night at this bar we frequent, Will's. This has happened to me a few times before, (been talking about random famous people and then they die the next day...happy, huh?) I know Chris isn't that huge of a fan, so when I got to work this morning, there was this email from him. Probably the only thing that could make me laugh today...

-----Original Message-----
From: Chris
Sent: Friday, September 12, 2003 8:29 AM
To: Megan
Subject: Johnny Cash


Perhaps you and I should hold off from discussing any more celebs for a while. It may be the kiss of death.

Of course, how 'bout that Clay Aiken?

Edit to add: Now, this is just weird.

-----Original Message-----
From: Chris
Sent: Friday, September 12, 2003 9:28 AM
To: Megan
Subject: Re: Johnny Cash


wanna know the worst part? I had a brief discussion monday night about John Ritter. I am not kidding. was watching mon night football with some friends and the "8 simple..." commercial came on and we talked about him for a minute.

weird.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AND last night at the bar, there was this guy with a tshirt on behind me that said, "The Regal Beagle" sitting behind me, and I asked him if he got that tshirt in Toronto (there's a bar there with the same name) and he says, "Nope, it's just from Three's Company."

Now I'm just looking for weird coincidences, aren't i?

I just want people to shut up today. I don't want to hear the women near my cube discuss today, I don't want to hear about what their kids are doing in school to remember, I don't want to hear speculation about where and how the next terrorist act is going to happen, I just don't want to hear anything right now. I'm not against remembering, I mean, I did in my own little way today, but I just wish people could respect silence and just be nice to one another.

I've always thought I was the type of person that was good with change. I've lived abroad (twice), moved (blindly) to a really shit ass city (I'm looking at you, Detroit) and stuck it out for 4 years (in retrospect, probably because I was afraid of change). Friends have come and gone. Time's moved on, I've aged...you know the drill.

Three years ago, I was told that I have a 'fear of success.' Crazy, right? What the fuck is that? I can't even get a 'normal' fear---heights, the dark, cats (ok, that one i've never understood, either)...but it's enough to wanna pull my hair out. And it's taken me three years to realize that she was right---I mean, the fact that I spent 4 years of my life in Detroit, the most miserable place on earth (strangely enough, the city thrives on that---misery, grey skies, concrete, melancholy...it's a breeding ground for really fucking good music. Seriously, when was the last time a kick ass band came from Ft. Lauderdale? Or Palm Springs?)

I guess I've always felt that if I go through hell to achieve success, then I've "earned" it. Funny enough, that's the same mentality that P. Diddy put his "Making of the Band" kids through when they walked to Brooklyn to get him some cheesecake...but I digress.

And I've come to the realization that this fear of mine is gay. Fucking gay.

So, I'm going out this weekend with a really nice, "normal" guy. And I'm going to try my damnest to just enjoy it and not freak out because god forbid someone try to do something nice for me. And I'm not promising anything, but it's time I allow myself a little normalcy here. Why are girls so weird? I can't be the only person who has done this shit.

I'm having a really tough time concentrating today. Boy on the brain.

Today's not really convenient for me to be flighty like this. I wish I could take my head off, open it up and blow on it like a Nintendo cartridge to get the dust off, close it back up and be good to go again for another great day full of Tetris-like activity. I would kick your ass. I would.

Last night, I officially became "old." I still can't believe I did this... I went into Best Buy and was looking for this CD that I can't remember the name of. I'm standing in the rap section, because every now and then I need to be reminded that bitches ain't nothin' but hos and tricks.

Anyway, I'm standing in the aisle, and I can't remember the name of this CD I want...I know the song's called "Right Thurr," but I can't remember who does it. Now, a lot of people claim to be white. But I am, literally, the whitest white girl I know. I mean, Norweigan/German, platnium blonde hair....it's in the genes. So, it seems that whenever I walk into the rap section, a sales person immediately tries to "help" me. As if I'm lost and really belong in the "Showtunes" section. It happened again last night, and I quickly shooed him away.

Now, normally, I just try to not draw attention to myself when I'm clearly a little outta place. However, I was under a time crunch (the store was closing) and I HAD to get this CD. Finally, I ask this guy (a fellow customer, if you will) standing in the same aisle, "Um, now, you probably know more about rap than I do... (WHO THE FUCK SAYS THAT?! Nerds do, that's who. Nerds and old people...your parents, for instance) but I'm looking for this CD...I know it starts with a 'C'...oh! Here it is! Chingy! Chingy, that's who!" I practically raised the CD in "victory."

Oh my god. I just realized how uncool I sound.

So, to try and save any sort of face, I quickly cover it up with a "Wow, I am so white." He laughs and walks away from me. Literally, walks away. I am scaring him as I stand, now alone, in a Best Buy rap aisle. He moves to the next aisle, and I see him talking to his friend, who then looks at me and starts laughing. I might as well just roll over and die. My first facelift is coming next week. ;)

On Friday night, I went over to my friend, Jeremy's house for a BBQ/party he was having to celebrate the Labor Day weekend. While there, I saw this guy who looked terribly familiar, and I couldn't place where I've seen/met him before. He was there with my friend, Dasha, who I was friends with in college. It was bothering me kinda the whole night, so when they left, I finally asked, "Was that guy on some reality TV show?" And it turns out he was. Dude, the self-made millionnaire commodities trader guy from the WB's reality show, "High School Reunion" was at the party I was at. And he's dating this girl I know, Dasha. Apparently, things with Natasha, the pretty, popular girl didn't pan out. And it makes me wonder, which is more sad: the fact that this guy was on a reality TV show? Or the fact that I watched it?