Call me a commie, but I can not stand The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I get suckered into watching it every year because I think my parents like it, and am usually a bit hungover and too tired to move to another room to watch something else. So I end up sitting there and making fun of it for 2 hours. But come on...there's something extremely funny to me when Katie Couric (of all people) annouces the "punk rock" band, A Simple Plan, while they ride on the M&M float lipsyncing. And don't get me started on the "America Sings!" singers...

Crap.

Tomorrow I'm heading out to Wisconsin for the holiday. Happy Thanksgivin' everyone.

Bob (see below) was once in a punk band. He told me he once wrote a song about Julia Child that went like this:

I was watchin’ TV one day last week
And what I saw really made me freak
She’s an old French chef named Julia Child
So I sat right down to watch for a while
She cooked and cooked and drank and smiled
She made me feel real good for a while
She’s Julia Julia Julia Child

I wanna have sex
with the French chef

She captured my heart when she filleted her sole
She mixed my emotions in her salad bowl
Sex with her is my only goal
‘Cause she cooked and cooked and drank and smiled
She really had a lot of style
She’s Julia Julia Julia Child

I wanna have sex
With the French chef
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I can now see why I get along with him so well.

No lie, it was 65 degrees in Chicago at 10 o'clock on Saturday night. I woke up this morning, there's white shit on the ground, and my car door is frozen shut. An older couple walked their dog past me as I'm trying to pry my car door open, swearing, saying, "I fucking hate winter." Yet, it is *still* better (in my mind) than living in the south. I can't deal with southern women and those accents would drive me up a wall. Viva la north!

Friday night, I had my first Friendster date. Now, before you categorize me into the nerd/loser category, I will have you know he emailed me first. Somehow that makes it okay in my mind. It was very weird finding out the link of how we knew each other. But he's a very cool guy. We had dinner, drinks, and he kept me up way too late, (get your mind outta the gutter, nothing like that happened...) as I had to work an event down on Michigan Ave. for Motorola. The event went really well, and I got to see first hand how stupid the American consumer really is. It amused me.

Saturday night, I went out with this guy I've gone out with a couple of times, Bob. Bob is much older than me--he's 39, but his TV viewing habits make him sound like he's really a 13-year-old girl. He admitted he was way into Dawson's Creek, and now The OC. Yesterday, I told him I was watching VH1's Behind The Music on The Spice Girls, and his response was, "I don't know much about the Spice Girls, yet I know all of their names." Funny that I can talk to a 39-year-old about Mel B.

I can not wait for Thanksgiving and to do nothing for 5 days. Mmmmm....

For the record, I don't really recommend listening to Andrew W.K. while driving, because I end up driving 80 MPH in a 55 zone and cutting off trucks and old ladies on my way to work (two types of drivers that should NEVER be allowed on the road during rush hours, anyway).

The Darkness show was sold out last night. Everyone is The Darkness cah-razy. I did end up seeing Kristin and everything was fine. It was actually good to see her again. She looked great, and we made small talk about hair, The Darkness, boys, her trip into Chicago, etc. God, it sounds like we're 13. At any rate, I missed that girl.

Tonight, The Darkness is playing at the Double Door. I reallllly want to go to this show. I remember my (former, ugh) friend, Kristin, telling me that she met them at SXSW last March and pretty much spent the whole weekend with them.

Fast forward to today. I heard through the Detroit grapevine that Kristin is going to be in town at tonight's show. Again, I really want to go, but am nervous about running into her. We haven't spoken since I left Detroit...

Last week when I was in LA, I talked to Cody (a mutual friend of ours), and she said that Kristin regrets what she said to me. This is worse than possibly running into a ex at a bar. At least then you can look fabulous and if it works out, possibly have ex sex. Here, you can look fabulous and still get the bitch treatment. Ugh. I'm debating if I should go...

Takin' a stand.

Since I'm working all day Saturday, I'm taking Monday off. And I didn't ask. I told. And it felt really fucking good.

I'm insanely busy today at work, but I had to take the time to say....

Did anyone else check out Britney on ABC last night? Daaaamn. I wonder how many parents had to have the "birds and the bees" talk last night. Which reminds me I never actually that talk with my parents...I'm 26 now. Mom and dad, lay it on me. I can handle it.

Mmmm...so sleepy this morning. I had a very busy weekend---Friday night, I went to The Green Door Tavern, (which I do every month now) to check out my friend, Chris, do some improv. I now know to get a free pilsner I have to throw out one of the first suggestions. I'm a free beer whore. The words, "Diarrhea!," "Cat!," or "A doobie!" will come out of my mouth at random. Chris' mother-in-law was in the audience, and I saw her daughter (my old roommate, Erin) have to explain what a doobie was. Way to go, Megs. Way to look like the worst influential friend EVER. She laughed, so I guess it was ok. I swear, Mrs. D, I do not partake in the ganja.

Saturday was my friend, Kelly's birthday. We went out to this bar where the attempts at picking up someone are abundant. To be honest, I hate this bar, but I was there to celebrate Kelly's birthday, not pout about wanting to be somewhere else. While there, this guy came up to me and we started talking for a while. He asked me if I get picked up a lot (Why do guys feel the need to ask that?---as if to validate his choice). I wasn't really into this guy and was trying to figure out a polite way to leave when Kelly stepped in as a lifesaver and asked me to go downstairs...(thank God). He asked for my number, and Kelly's standing there griting her teeth saying, "Fake number, fake number..." in front of him. I'm standing there with his business card in my hand and started to write, "Megan (312)" when he asked me, "So, you want to go to lunch sometime?," and I said, "I dunno, maybe..." and then he was like, "Oh, ok, then dinner?" Again, I say, "I guess..." and he said, "2 dinners?," as if to figure out how much it would take for me to eventually sleep with him.

...

I'm standing there with his business card in my hand when I say, "At this point, you're lucky to have my area code. You're figuring out how many times you have to take me out before you can sleep with me?! I'm going to go now, and buy my friend here a shot. You're going to go and join your friends across the street at the bar. Have a nice night." I walked away as he was saying, "I was just kidding..."

I think I managed to handle that with a just little bit of grace.

Warning: Work rant. I'm not expecting anyone to actually read this.

Good thing I don't have anything going on next Saturday, cause as of an hour ago, it looks like I'll be working. And not getting paid, since I'm salaried. Fuckin' hell. I was all excited to have a nice little Friday where I could actually ENJOY it being Friday, but the head of this project (a woman with no event experience) seems to think 1 week is ok to plan an entire event. Did I mention she's going on vacation next week, and the quote, "Well, it's not like this is hard," came out of her mouth. And then my questions began letting her know how difficult this is going to be to pull off well. I could've killed her.

Um, incase anyone's wondering...they do not sell the ceramic dalmations from "Wheel of Fortune" on Ebay, nor the silk "Win, Lose, or Draw" jackets. I've got to be honest...I'm a little disappointed.

Ladies and Gentleman,

As of last night, I am again an official member of the American HMO plan. With my "Member ID card", I received a lovely 54 page small-print guide to exactly what my benefits are. Basically, it all sucks, except the page entitled "Human Organ Transplant Benefits." It's like I just won a trip to Orlando if I donate my kidney. And I quote, "You and your companion are each entitled to benefits for lodging and meals up to a combined maximum of $200 per day." Wooo hooo! Who needs a kidney?

Ah, Hell-A. Land of inflated egos, as well as inflated tits, it hasn't lost its charm one bit. I was there attending this entertainment marketing conference at the Hilton Hotel. Nicky and Paris, you're welcome for that new pair of Manolos I just bought for you.

So, while there, I met a lot of people, blah blah blah, but the most surprising and unexpected person I met was a youngin' like me named Angela who approached me in the hall and asked if I was Megan. Well, apparently Angela was searching out "Jules and Mimi" on Google or whatever and came across my blog. I guess she's been reading it and realized that we were going to the same conference. Dude. Is there some statistic of what those chances are? Like, 4 people tops probably read this. BTW, Hi Angela! I wonder if she was sane and stuck around LA longer than me...so tired today...

I also got to see my friends from Detroit, Cody and Josh. They just moved there and live in a very Melrose-style apartment complex with the pool in the middle of the courtyard (as a side note--my friend, Phil, jumped from the second story balcony into the pool fully clothed in a rock-star move and the next day there was a sign from the management that the pool would be closed for the rest of the week).

We ended up at this karoke bar. I discovered that the people of LA take their karoke seriously. There was an actual stage, and all the freakshows in LA take it as an opportunity to potentially "get discovered" and land an acting gig. I, myself, gave a riveting performance of Dolly Parton's "9 to 5," and Blondie's "One Way or Another." People actually danced in front of the stage. I can now relate to Britney when she says that the crowd really gets her pumped. It's all about the crowd. Thank you, LA!

Being back at work blowz. More later...

My job is killin' me right now. For real. I couldn't be leaving for this conference at a worse time, but oh well!

Last night, I had (what I thought) was a terrible date with this guy, Bryan. It was his "second chance" date, ladies, so that is it for me. No more. Done. Fin. The problem is, he seems to think "We work well together," (he actually said that) and I think my response was a shakey, "Uh huh..." I feel like the guy in this scenerio.

Sociology has always interested me. I like observing people, watching their facial expressions when they think no one is watching, trying to find out what it's like to live in other people's shoes, etc. However, the more I watch documentaries (and that word is a definite stretch in the certain cases) like HBO's "Born Rich" or MTV's "Rich Girls," I wonder how destructive these shows are to the "common/average/middle class" 12-24 year old who compare themselves.

We already live in a society of Mc-mansions and bigger-is- better SUVs; where 12-year-old girls are begging their moms for a pair of $130 Seven jeans...I just wonder how much more damage the media can do. I'd be curious to follow the rate of depression when these kids grow up. Or, better yet, I'll just watch the amount of people declaring bankrupcy...how many more Karyn's we have to save....

I'm no tree hugger, and Lord knows I'm not a martyr when it comes to living simply. However, (and maybe this is an homage to my Marquette education) there's got to be some sort of social responsibility. When is it too much? I constantly struggle with that question regarding my chosen profession... Amusingly, I'm thinking of this right before I head out to LA this weekend to learn how to market to tween girls...more more more, want want want...

Help!

Do you get a birthday present to someone you've gone out with like, 3 times? If so, what? I feel the need to be polite.

My old roommate from college, Katie's fiance, Paul, was listed as Chicago Crain's Top 40 under 40. It's quite the achievement, and he jokes that he BARELY squeaked in the "under 40" rule. They're getting married next summer, and I couldn't be happier for them because they both are such wonderful, amazing people. Seriously, if you look in the dictionary under "kind hearts," you'd see a picture of those two.

What are the chances....

Today, I was driving to work, already cranky because of...well, work. I'm stuck in traffic and as I inch along, I see that there's been an accident. As I crawl past, I see a very cute guy in a Jetta (so cliche---advertising hard at work, my friends...) and his car was completely totaled. Pieces were everywhere, and he (understandably) looked so incredibly pissed and defeated. I wanted to be his dame in shining armor and pick him in my unreliable, poopie, 1999 Mercury Christine and whisk him away to a better place, I'm sure to only to have my car break down on the way. My point being, I was not having a "bad" day. This guy was, and to count yer blessin's.

Then I get to work and the magic White Stripes fairy poofs an email on me saying that they're playing a New Years Eve show in Chicago. I ended up selling my tickets (very easily) yesterday, and then this lovely new show comes along. Yay!

Someone's decided not to completely pee on my parade today from up above. And I just wanted to say thanks, yo.

I sound like such a whiny bitch in my last post. Do forgive. Hey, at least I recognize it.

Not a happy camper.

Not only do I have to go to a entertainment marketing conference in Hell-A this weekend (yes, I stole that phrase), but because of it I have to miss The White Stripes concert (that I've been waiting, oh, 6 fucking months for) AND because of it I will have to miss my friend who was thinking about coming to town, AND while I'm in Hell-A, my friends who live there have to actually WORK this weekend, so I can't hang with them as long as I had hoped for (only a couple of nights).

Fucking hell. Woe is me, I know, I know...

Japanese Iron Chef Morimoto was over served a li'l bit this weekend. Just a li'l bit. I was amazed at the fact that he still knows all the lyrics to Tone Loc's "Wild Thang"and "Funky Cold Medina," though. A man of many talents, if you will.

I had a little taste of Detroit on Saturday night. I (politely) ditched the halloween party I was at a little early to check out The Sights and The Dirtbombs play at The Double Door. And I got to see my future husband, Mr. Ben Blackwell, get on top of his drum set and keep drumming...mmm. Obsessed much, Megs? Yes. Mick was wearing a "Fuck art, let's dance" t-shirt, and we did. God, I want to see them again already. Go see them when they come to your hood and get some lovin'.