Friday, February 27, 2004
So, the paper towel company, Brawny, is updating their "logger man" image. This is a good thing, since I thought the old Brawny looked more like a gay man named "Bruce."
I don't know what the hell my problem is, but I've gotten Chinese for lunch 4 times this week. I should invest in "A Taste of Hong Kong" stock.'
Update: To prove it, (not that you doubted it) here are the 4 fortunes sitting at my desk:
- You'll accomplish more if you start now. (Duh.)
- Your hidden creative talents will soon be revealed (in bed).
- A good time to start something new.
- Stop searching forever, happiness is just next to you.
I should bank roll my lucky numbers into 4 Powerball tickets.
I have nothing really exciting to talk about today (unless exciting to you is that I watched the HBO documentary, "Pimps Up, Hoe's Down" last night), and it has become clear to me that I'm PMSing, so before my head starts to spin and I start projectile vomitting all over the place, I think it's best I go. Go check out Mimi Smartypants. She's funny.
:: slowly backs out of room ::
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Dad joke of the day:
Employee: "I'm sorry but I can't come in today. My doctor says I suffer from Anal Glaucoma."
Boss: "Anal Glaucoma? What's that?"
Employee: "I just can't see my ass coming to work!"
Wa wa waaaaa....
A very big pet peeve of mine:
People who don't know the difference between "seen" and "saw." Drives me up a fucking wall. You sound like such a moron to me if you say, "I seen it." I hear it all the time, and I don't even live in the South. I don't claim to be the Queen of Grammar, but come on.
Being (sort of) Catholic and on the Atkins diet just does not work during Lent. I can only eat so much processed seafood (mmm...krab) in one day. Jesus, I know you died for my sins and all, but I really did try to not eat meat yesterday. Sorry bout that. Your pal, Megan
In other news, on my way to work today I saw a bumper sticker that said, "Marriage = (bathroom-like graphic of a male next to a bathroom-like graphic of a female)". Of course, it was next to a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker on their comfortably affordable Buick Rendezvous. I sped past to see who the driver was, and needless to say, it didn't exactly surprise me.
I must say, I am slightly (not much, but slightly) surprised how much attention Bush is giving this. If this issue were a country, Bush would've invaded Gayville by now, dropping bombs left and right. And that's sad to me. Savage Love has some good thoughts on the matter. Also, the Onion orders all Massachusetts citizens to gay marry. Funny stuff, yo.
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
"Boys Don't Cry" by The Cure might just be the happiest depressing song ever. I dance all 80s style when I hear it (thank God none of you can see me).
Last night we "wooped" it up Mardi-Gras: suburban-style. We had a well-balanced meal followed by non-overindulging in a couple of Hurricanes. No girls flashed us for plastic beads, and I put myself to bed at a reasonable hour. All in all I'd say it was pretty calm night in Oak Park, IL. Yawn. :: (I'm getting old) ::
So, today is Ash Wednesday and it's mainly just a reminder that I'm a terrible Catholic. Shalom.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
It's weird when slipcovers and chairs have the same name as you do. Does Pottery Barn think this is what people with my name would look like if we were a swivel desk chair? Ooo...look, I'm on sale.
Everyone should have at least one skinny mirror in their lives. Mine is in the bathroom at work. It's an instant mood booster. "Damn, girl. Do fries come with that shake?"
Monday, February 23, 2004
Sunday, we decided to rediscover the city and went to the Museum of Science and Industry. After seeing the "Sweet Home Chicago" blues exhibit, we went to see an IMAX film on "Lewis & Clark." Now, follow me here...Lewis and Clark were out pioneering the West with all these other men. While driving home, I had the following thoughts on the film :
Me: "So, my inital thought was that Lewis & Clark were gay. I mean, 2 years without any pussy..."
Bob (choking from laughter) "Megan, you took a nice historical film and managed to make it dirty."
Me: "I mean, I was getting all randy for them. Thank God Sacagawea was around...do you think she got it on with more than one pioneer?"
I'm a disgrace to historians everywhere.
This weekend was a pretty quiet one. I think I needed some time with close girl friends and cleaned my apartment (code for "Megan needs to chill").
Friday night, I went bowling at Lucky Strike with friends. I had been talking shit for 2 days to my friend, Laura, about how she shouldn't even bother coming out cause I'm gonna "kick her ass." Well, Steady Eddie :: points at self :: here shot 100 both games. I'm an embarrassment as a representative of my people of Wisconsin (sorry guys). I got the beer frame.
I know everyone has their opinions on the SatC ending...and while I see their points where the dialog was a bit much at points, I still loved it. I got my ending.
*FYI, Frank Black is really good.
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Does the world really need Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights?
Friday, February 20, 2004
Me: "So, did you get a lot of ass when you played in your bands?"
Bob: "Um...not really when we had songs like, "Pussy and Tits" and hawkin' loogies at the ceiling to create spit icicles while we played."
Yes, ladies, try to contain yourself. He's my man.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
And now...your quote of the day (even though it happened a long ago):
"Fuck Jack White. I know about him with his 'Cold Mountain'. Hey Jack, if you're listening, man, I know what you're doing. You're dipping your toe into my territory. I've begun production on a movie of my own called 'Hot Valley'. It's better than 'Cold Mountain'. It's the opposite. It's about a guy on a journey to find the person he hates to kill them!
Maybe I'm jealous."
- Jack Black to the BBC
I should either start my own company or quit working with (certain) men. I swear to God.
I'm not some crazy fanatical feminist, but I'm in a meeting today and I contribute an idea that I know is a good one and relevant to the event tour we're trying to put together. As I'm saying it, this guy (who is above me in rank, let's call him Rick) immediately (by his non-verbal actions) sort of 'writes me off' and appears to be trying to hurry me up with the point I'm trying to get across. Twenty minutes later (and going around and around in fucking circles), someone above Rick in rank validates my point (via conference call), saying, "To Megan's credit, her idea was a good one, I know exactly what she's talking about, blah blah blah..." and we start (all over again, wasting 20 min.) building the idea from there.
Immediately, Rick eases up and later even says, "Yeah, that was a good idea." It's as if someone has to tell him it's okay to agree with me and that my contributions might be worth listening to. Sometimes I daydream about the exact same scenerio that I'm sitting in, but with all women and how the interaction would work. I don't know if that's weird to say or not, but I just know (for myself) that I wouldn't have to fight the fucking Goliath every single fucking time I have a point/contribution to make.
I hate it so much sometimes. Maybe it's just me being young, too, I dunno. It happened before (in a past job) so who knows. I just notice rarely on these calls does a woman make a fucking peep.
Somebody sign me up for The Apprentice.
Lots of "stuff" is going on, but it all seems pretty non-relevant/exciting to write about. Bob got me an ipod for V-day, so i've been playing with that---followed with yelling at Christine when she decides to chew on the tape-converter and not spit it back out when I ask her to. "Noooo Christine... Bad car! Bad!"
Things are just good. Even if Christine is being a bitch.
I can feel spring trying to appear, and I can't freakin' wait. Things don't seem so doom and gloom anymore...problems don't seem as bad when the weather is nice outside.
All this really means is that I'm excited about is dining al fresco and having a beer on friends' decks. You're welcome anytime, spring. Winter, don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Today I started therapy on my knee--when the therapist asked what happened, I wish I could've said, "Doc, I was training for another triathalon, when..." instead of "I was out til 5 am, drunk as hell, and fell 3 times in snowy conditions 'cause I wore really shitty shoes." She sentenced me to 4-5 x a week in the gym for muscle strengthening exercises.
I'm embarrassed to admit this, (and I SWEAR my mom told me it was going to be on) but I stayed up late to watch the second airing of Oprah at 11 pm. That's one of the perks of living in Chicago where it's taped---try to contain the urge to pack your bags and move here.
The four ladies of 'Sex and the City' were on doing an exclusive "goodbye" interview. Oprah came out on stage holding a cosmo, and I started crying. Talk about an interviewer---she didn't have to say shit and her creepy Oprah-power overcame me. The whole episode was great---it was sad, as you can imagine. Chris Noth came on, gave Sarah Jessica Parker kudos and ended it by saying , "Big and Carrie Forever" (awesome---that should be painted on a rock somewhere). Apparently, Sarah Jessica Parker hasn't read the last 2 pages of the script herself---she couldn't bare to know how it ends.
I guess the show meant so much to me because it really took this stigma of being a single woman away, focused on the importance of friendships, and improved our sex lives all at the same time. Cheers sure as hell never did that.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
In an attempt to avoid traffic on my way home the other night, I discovered that I live a measly four blocks away from Flavour Cooking School and THEN today I saw Marshall Field's also offers a Culinary studio featuring "more famous" chefs, and they're sending me information. Kick ass.
I will be flambé-ing all over the place.
I missed SatC this past week because I was dining with the c--tiest woman alive instead (see below) so I had to play catch up last night.
Right on, Carrie. Right-the-fuck-on for the way that you yelled at Big---I was hoping..hell, praying for that moment to happen and felt immense satisfaction that she did it. Granted, I want them to end up together, but it needed to be said so he can take his head out of his ass, which it sounds like he was trying to do anyway. And I loved the scene where he sat down with the girls. The way Miranda was sort of pouty for even having to sit in the same room with him, and it turning into asking him to go get her... I cried. But I also cried when I saw the final trailer (of sorts) for next week, so whatever. I'm a sensitive girl who cries at TV shows and then talks about them in her blog. Back off.
Monday, February 16, 2004
Um, something pretty bizzare happened to me this weekend that demonstrates my amazing psychic abilities. Prepare to be amazed and in awe.
Bob and I were driving around, and for some reason, I asked him if he ever tried the well-known tale of playing Pink Floyd's "The Dark Side of the Moon" album in sync with the movie, "The Wizard of Oz" (incase you're ever interested in trying, you start the CD right after the third lion roar of the MGM Lion---sober or stoned, it's interesting to try). Well, I'm telling him about it, and there's this one scene in the movie where an alarm clock of the Pink Floyd song, "Time" goes in PERFECT timing with when the Wicked Witch of the West appears on screen.
At that exact moment, no lie, the fucking alarm in the song, "Time" started playing on the radio. I started freaking out and said, "Is that the CD player? Are you messing with me?" And he said sort of laughing, "No, that's the radio." He did admit it was pretty weird.
I just wanted to let you all know that I will be quitting my job to become part of the Psychic Friends Network.
I told a girl at work this story, and she said when this sort of thing happens to her, she feels she's in the right place. Things are aligning and working out the way they should be...and maybe she's right. Or maybe it was just some freakshow coincidence.
I'm convinced I must be the only person alive who has to work on President's Day. You lazy bastards. ;)
I just have to say, this is a crock of shit. Amusing, but nonetheless a crock of shit. And no, I will not be moving back to my hometown.
I had a very nice Valentine's Day weekend. Full of nice surprises, a lot of fun, and would probably make the average person hurl from the sweetness surrounding it, so I'll spare details, lest you, too, will start barfing. I will say i'm one lucky broad. And the rumors were true, Tenacious D did open for Urge. We rocked it.
Last night, we went out to this Japanese steakhouse called Ron's of Japan. It's very much like a Benihana that they cook your food in front of you, etc. Typically when you go, you kinda keep to the company you came with, and maybe a couple of polite exchanges of "Please pass the salt." I came to realize that unfortunately, you can't pick your tablemates. There was a woman who appeared to be on a first date with a guy...the kind of guy that lets women walk all over him (maybe he gets off on it, who knows). The only word I could use to describe this woman starts with a c- and ends with a t- and I HATE that word, but if you would open up the dictionary, her picture would be right next to it.
Some choice quotes:
"God, we've been here for 10 minutes, couldn't they bring us our soup or something?" (2 minutes later) "FINALLY! Our soup is here."
"Where's my salad? Hello?! Where's my salad? It's so rude they brought everyone else's and not ours. (the meals they ordered happened to not come with it) They are going to hear about this."
"God, what do I have to do to get some water around here? I don't see anyone carrying around water at all."
Bitch, bitch, bitch...
At one point, she took her compact out at the dinner table and started fixing her makeup. Honest to God, she was the most uncool chick I ever met in my entire life. I was wondering what my threshold would be before I said something to her---"For the love of God, just shut the fuck up."
After dinner was complete, she and her date got up to go to the bar for a smoke. The three other gentlemen at the table and looked at Bob and I, and knowingly smiled. One guy said to his friend, "I think they're smiling at the same thing we're smiling about..." Finally, I just said, "So how long do you think that relationship will last?" They start cracking up and one of the guys said, "I was about ready to just give her my salad if it would shut her up." Bob said, "I would kill myself." We laughed so hard we had to remind ourselves that they were eventually coming back and to pipe'r down.
And here I thought the bonding would happen over shittake mushrooms.
Friday, February 13, 2004
You'll probably hear enough Valentine's Day wishes today, so I'm not going to go on and on about it, but I will say from the bottom of my heart:
Happy Valentine's Day. Don't get herpes.
Along those same lines, are these unfortunate Valentine's day cards that Freakgirl had posted on her site. Cracked me up.
Love your ass,
Thursday, February 12, 2004
I think I'm spending too much time with these people at work. And I just need to vent this, so do pardon.
I rarely go out with them ("work people are for work" is kinda my mentality) so I didn't expect all of their idiosyncrasies to get on my every dying last nerve so quickly. One woman sounds like she's fake laughing all the time, except....that really is her real laugh (every "ha" in 'ha ha ha ha' is pronounced out exactly how it reads). This other woman attaches a gasping-for-air type of "uhhhhh" after each giggle (and she also ends every statement as a question---for example, "I went to the store today? And I bought my 4 kids bagels? And then Bobby threw the bagel at Susie?") It drives me up a fucking wall.
Who gave me the bitch pizza for lunch today? Grrr. (or Grrr? as Toots next to me would say).
I picked Christine up from 'Perfection Auto' today. She didn't look so angry. They had waxed and shined her all up, so I think she was pleased with her makeover. The sad thing is, I started talking to her almost as if she were a dog. "Oh, you're so pretty! Yes you are!" and even petted the part where she was hurt. From now on, I'm blaming all of my moments of insanity on the Atkins.
She does look really good, though. That'll last about a week before she tries to kill me again.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
The past couple of days, I've been a little grouchy. Nothing worth writing home mom about, but just kinda blue. It could be from a multitude of things going on, but I'm starting to wonder if it's some weird side effect from this Atkins gig (a vegan's worst nightmare) I'm trying. Now, the last thing I want to do is turn this into some fuckin' diet blog (yawn), but I swear to God, if I have to eat (or even think about) one more egg-based food or red meat, I might throw up.
Megan needs a Triscuit.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Your sex horoscopes for February.
I am going through show withdrawl.
In Detroit, that's pretty much all we did...because that's all there was to do (besides drink or have sex...and if you were lucky, all three went hand-in-hand). Weekends were conveniently already planned for you based off of the Magic Stick or Lager House calendar, and if 'Dawson's Creek' wasn't on, chances are that we'd find something during the week worth heading downtown for.
I've gone to very few shows, sadly, since I moved to Chicago. Maybe it's because I have some minor issues with the crowd (what's with the dancing?) or the drink prices (give me my $1 PBR night back) or just the fact that none of my close girlfriends appreciate the rock like my Detroit friends (yes, I know that's sad).
Things are slowly turning around, though. We're seeing Urge Overkill reunite this weekend at the Double Door (Bob really wanted to go and i'm convinced he had to have someone whacked to get tickets since 2 shows are sold out). I caved and bought tickets to see The Yeah Yeah Yeahs (i know i'm weak, but that video fucking kills me) at the Metro, and I would've bought tickets to see The Darkness (they just rock) if it wasn't sold out. Pooper.
Speaking of The Darkness, it's a blessing the lead singer became a rocker (trust me, he's no rockstar--he's a bonafide 'rocker') because there's no way in hell that guy would ever get laid otherwise. You could fit small children in the gaps of his English teeth. God bless 'em.
Anyone know who i need to whack to see The Darkness around here? Thanks.
Monday, February 09, 2004
Ok, I know this is pathetic, but my dad still does my taxes. If he didn't, then H&R Block would. I don't like dealing with it, nor do I ever care to learn. I know exactly how that sounds (whiny only child, anyone?), but if I did care, then I would've become an accountant. Pure and simple.
Well, because of my job jumping this past year, my taxes are becoming more "interesting," (as my dad puts it). He just sent me an email and I swear to God, I couldn't understand a word he said. Something about calling my bank to see if they reported to the IRS about additional monies blah blah blah. I think it's time for me to enroll in The Jessica Simpson School of Taxes. Shoot me.
The latest HBO ads for 'Sex and The City'...sigh. The message is seemingly, "You nor your sex life will never be the same, so you may as well roll over and die." Who wants to countdown to something they don't want to happen? That's like, having a countdown to the days til your hysterectomy appointment. Yayyyy!
Some unsolicited thoughts on The Grammys last night:
- I don't think it's possible for Beyonce to be in any more award shows/special performances. I swear, I wouldn't be surprised if we see Cannibal Corpse featuring Beyonce Knowles next week on TV. Special message to Beyonce: Honey, over exposure happened three Feria ads ago. You're at an 11, I need you to be at a 3 or 4 right now. Thanks.
- There should've been a warning to epileptics everywhere watching The White Stripes performance. Flashy. Meg was looking rather sexy, and those pants enhance Jack's...um, package. And they kept zooming in to get a look at his guitar, which was rather fortunate for me cause I kept getting a nice close up of it. :: whispers ::Rather large. Good stuff.
- Man, Justin. The greatest moment of your life if I were you is that you got to see Britney naked. Duh. And your mom is over 40, so she needs to put her boobs away. I'm sure she appreciates that you bought them for her, though.
Sunday, February 08, 2004
God, I wish I could erase some of this past weekend.
I know I'm not the most perfect person (by any means), but it's a hard pill to swallow when you do or say something stupid and your friends or family point out your personality flaws. "You know, you need to chill out, Megs," is something I tend to hear often. Too often. I relate the cleanliness of my apartment to how I'm feeling, and right now, it's pretty damn messy. So, I'm going to spend today cleaning, saying 'hi' to my parents, mending any relationships I may have sort of damaged this past weekend, work off this hangover and get my shit back in order.
Don't you just love Sundays?
Friday, February 06, 2004
Last night I met Bob's mom, since she decided to take us out for his birthday dinner. I wasn't nervous at all because (not to brag) I can charm the pants off of any parent. Not that I wanted to take off her pants...you know.
We drove in a snow storm to Tom's Steak House. I thought it was just going to be the three of us, but then found out at dinner that their "adopted daughter" (she had some family problems in her early 20s, and Bob's family invited her to move in with them--now she's in her early 50s..and sort of never really moved out), Dawn. Well, Dawn happens to be a lesbian (or as Bob's mom calls it, "She's lesbian." "No, mom, she's a lesbian.") and she brought her "friend," Fran. So, dinner was Bob, his mom, me, and two 'lipstick' lesbians. To boot, we're all on the Atkins diet.
These women weren't shrinking flowers, they were balls-out powerhouse "characters." While I wasn't being all shy and reserved, it was a little overwhelming when not once, but twice, we had the couple at the next table join our converation regarding "the best chicago pizza" and cat hairballs.
After dinner, one of Bob's horses was racing, so we went to watch "He'sAwfullyGood" lose to "Chicka Chicka." Secretly, i was a fan of the horse named, "SonofaSleaze." I love that name. I bet only $10 on his horse, but said to him, "This is our ticket out of here, baby."
Needless to say, I'm still here.
Thursday, February 05, 2004
All right. Everybody seems to be in this freakin' crazy bad mood lately, I thought I'd join the party. Misery enjoys company right? :: offers beer ::
Ever hear a song that somehow strikes a cord and you just fucking lose it? Yes, I accidently (intentionally) picked up the CD I started to make entitled, "Songs that Have Made Me Cry....but was too depressed to finish it." Then, have you ever gone to see the band live and start quietly crying (picture the single tear rolling down the cheek) while they're singing it IN THE BAR? Yes, folks, I've done that, and I have a fear it might happen again if I see the nation's most over-rated band in March, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, if they start performing that fucking song, "Maps." Karen O (arguably the ugliest woman in rock) cries when she sings it in the video, so how am I supposed to keep it together? A prozac cocktail, perhaps?
:: puts the Jeff Buckley cd down and slowly walks backwards out of room ::
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Not that anyone cares, but the total damage to Christine was estimated at $2,227.00. And I don't care since I don't have to pay for it, nor does it affect my insurance. God bless that I don't live in Michigan with the "No Fault" insurance policy. Because come hell or high water, it WAS that fucker's fault. Don't mess with Texas.
My parents are driving down this weekend for a nice little visit in Chicago. They never, ever stay with me (believe me, I don't mind) but my friends tend to think that's weird. Listen, there's no room in my apartment, and as much as I love them and they're actually fun to hang out with, I don't think I can stay 24-hours for 4 days with (almost) anyone. A little breathing room is nice. Plus, I don't have to listen to my dad snore. My poor mom probably lost 10 years of sleep with the man, and if you bring it up, she really gets pissy (in the way that you laugh at her kind of pissy) about it.
We're taking them to The Park Grill (a new restaurant in the brand new Millenium Park) on Friday, and then I pretty much won't see them for the rest of the weekend, as I already had plans to go to the Marquette B-ball (yes, I just said Bball, what up, yo?) game Saturday. I feel bad, but I had been looking forward to that for a month, and I don't feel like cancelling our plans because they decided last Saturday to drive down. Although Chicago's "no NY" (don't get me started), there's still plenty to do around here that they can entertain themselves.
I feel like a bad daughter. Am I? Catholic guilt is setting in.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
I will make an exception about what I said earlier re: animated animals in ads, but only if it's a Japanese ad for mansions that features giant raccoon balls.
Things that are just wrong: (feel free to add your own)
1. The 311 cover of The Cure's "Love Song."
2. The latest Quizno subs ads, or any ad with animated animals (specifically: monkeys) in it...ugh, the pain.
3. Horse face. (link via Freakgirl)
Monday, February 02, 2004
I was in a pretty bad car accident this morning (100% not my fault) and everything's fine---I'm fine, Christine's banged up pretty bad, I have a rental car, and filed a claim through the driver at fault (look at how nice I didn't refer to him as "that asshole"), and everything ran fairly smooth. Just not really in the mood to write. Fuckin' FIBs.
But I will say that I was pretty disappointed with the SuperBowl ads as a whole, but I think my favorite was the Mistubishi Galant ad. Maybe I could've used that car today...hm. See the full thing here if you haven't already. They were still filming a week ago, which amazes me. I don't think I'm very much fun to watch the SuperBowl with---I tried explaining to Bob that it really is like Christmas, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, and Hanukkah all rolled into one for me, but really, it just means that I am psycho and don't talk to me. Good times.