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Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Anybody want some chicken?
The other day, the jagoffs at Jiffy Lube gave me a coupon for a free Popeye's 8-piece chicken with the purchase of any "box" since I had my oil change. I don't know what you're talking about, but oil and chicken promotions seem to go hand-in-hand to me. Anyway, I've never been to a Popeye's before (I know, shocking, right?) and I was too embarrassed to walk inside, so I sat through the longest wait of a drive-through I possibly ever had in my life. When I got up to the drive-through menu, I realized then that a "box" is another entire (at the minimum) 8-piece chicken box. I don't want 16 pieces of chicken! My original intention was to see if maybe I could freeze the leftover chicken I didn't want...I don't know what I was thinking. All I knew was that 16 pieces of chicken seemed ridiculous, but it was too late to bow out at that point, because the guy was asking me for my order and I couldn't understand what he was saying, and there were a line of cars behind me, and I don't know, but I panicked at Popeyes, and now I have 13 (leftover) pieces of chicken in my fridge. I'm giving Bob an entire box to take home with him tonight. Are you sure you don't want any chicken? Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Thanks to Steve (note: sarcasm), I'm practically having an anxiety attack waiting for this. Nice to know I could buy a tshirt or a wall clock to commemorate their return after 17 years. I just heard it lasts for about a month. Ok, I might start crying now.
Last night, Christine's back rotor started grinding, so she's at the doctor today. Do you think an employer would let someone go because they're having car problems twice a month? Look, I have no monthly car payments right now so it's really, really hard for me to justify getting a new car when I can just keep fixing this one and have no monthly car payment. Plus, I can work from home...sort of. Convince me to get a new fucking car already.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Poor worms. I don't know what jihad they were on, but it looks like they had their own suicide bombings all over our drive at work. Not very smart creatures, are you? You know you were told to stay in the dirt and not go on the pavement, but you just didn't listen, did you? And now look at you. All shrivled up, guts everywhere. Nice goin', Ace.
Other than that (see below) the rest of the weekend was good. I went over to Laura & Chad's place to help paint their new condo. She's the first one of my close friends to buy a place---a 2-bedroom, 1100 sq. ft. condo for $270,000 (includes a parking space) in the South Loop. God, that seems mighty expensive. I painted their front entrance way a deep purple (not quite as dark as eggplant, but pretty dark), and I must say, it looks good. Pizza and beer were had for our hard work. Mmmm.
I can't wait to own a place I can paint someday. :: does the math, carry the 3... :: Yeah, maybe in the year 2047, I'll be able to do it. White walls blow. Sunday, March 28, 2004
Hm, I didn't really see this one comin'. I got a drunken, 4-minute (at one point Bob said, "He's STILL talking?") voicemail last night from an ex of mine in Detroit telling me how much he still loves me and how i shouldn't be in Chicago, and how he's drunk, but he doesn't care! And how his sister cried the entire day after she met me because she just knew we were supposed to be together, and how he's miserable, and what else does he have to do or say?! Repeat same lines over for 4 minutes. Rinse.
Look, this sort of thing happens to other girls or in movies, but not to me. So, pardon me, Mr. Ex Boyfriend for laughing several times at the ridiculousness of your voicemail. Especially since I think we've talked less than 10 times since I moved last year. Not exactly keepin' those flames of passion a'burnin'. Sweetie, I think you meant to dial -9561 instead of -9560... Uh huh. No problem. Bye now. Do I ignore this? The last thing I want to do is be a bitch, but as Bob said, "I think this one's gonna have to get ugly." Saturday, March 27, 2004
I got a letter back from the city yesterday saying I still have to pay my $50 parking ticket. Dammit. My perfect record of writing my way out of parking tickets is now tainted---I'm at 3 wins, 1 loss.
So it was very timely that I just heard of ParkingTicket.com today. They contest your ticket for you, with a 70% success rate. If you still lose, you still pay the ticket, but pay the website nothing. If you win, you pay the website half of what your ticket was for. Or how about you write the damn letter yourself, you lazy bastard, and potentially pay no one anything. Friday, March 26, 2004
Um, no, I haven't recently Googled "mystic tan" at all. Ok, look, I'm just really sick of being so fucking pale. People just LoooOOOOove putting their arm next to mine after their vacations. I'll have you know that I would've been a vixen back in 1690.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
A few days ago I talked about a terrible car/semi accident that happened right in front of our office, in which the driver of the car had to be helicopter-lifted to a trauma center. Well, some good news---the driver is alive. He ends up being the owner of a Quizno's subs that just opened just around the corner.
:: insert awful joke about God taking some sort of revenge because of those terrible Quizno ads here:: Awwww...Bad taste? The dude's alive, it's cool. :: gets hit by falling piano ::
"The Stupid Person-Of-The-Day" Award goes to the woman on the radio who said,
"My boyfriend is so lazy. He just lays on the couch while I work two jobs to make meets end!" Gah.
Last night, we headed to Sal & Carvao Churrascaria for dinner. It's one of those restaurants (VERY similar to Fogo de Chao) where Brazillian men in gaucho pants serve you meat off of a skewer and then you proceed to stuff yourself until you can't breathe. And Americans pay good money for this. (side note: I was a bit horrified at how much was wasted there --- much like Jennifer Grey's character, Baby, was in "Dirty Dancing," but I digress). Good times.
At any rate, I don't know if "romance in a bottle" (which tastes a lot like Red Bull) really works (I have another bottle on chill in my fridge for trial #2), but something kicked in a bit. Maybe it was the combination of the gaucho pants, various meats, and Nexcite that made my loins of fire heave. Who knows. But I am glad to know that they sell it by the case. Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Last night, I dropped off a doctor's prescription at the local Osco drug. I watched the pharmacist look for the medication on the wall, found it, had it IN HER HAND, and still told me it would be a 20 minute wait. I swear, they do that just so I mill around their store and get suckered into buying shit I don't need.
For example. I'm milling around the vitamin aisle looking at the weird Asian diet teas and "Horny Goat Weed" when I come across this on the top shelf and on sale. It's "romance in a bottle." I imagined Wiccas sitting around bottling this for extra cash being all goth and creepy. Then I saw the "From Sweden with Love" sticker, so it must be Swedish wiccas working day and night to ensure your love life is a bumpin'. And a pumpin'. And a jumpin'. I had to buy it to give it a try. I'll let you know if it worked tomorrow. That is...IF I even make it in to work tomorrow from being all out of control from the sexual prowlness coming out of me. Or something. Meeeeow... Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Last night I had a hankering for maple syrup, so I whipped up some Swedish pancake mix I got at Ikea. You know, to get in touch with my Scandinavian roots and all. Hey, every other nationality has cultural staples, and all I got was Rose Nylund and Ikea, so back off.
At any rate, what amused me is that on the back of the box it said, "Makes 90 small pancakes." Um, apparently Ikea thinks I will be cooking for the entire country of Sweden. AND it suggested serving the pancakes with salmon or caviar. Sweden, if we're ever going to get a chain of "Svennson's" going in this country, we need more marketable, edible products. Take some lessons from the Italians, would ya? :: Fish-in-a-tube, anyone? ::
Last night, Freakgirl introduced me to my future boyfriend. I love the part where he calls himself a musical prodigy. Ladies, Ladies...no fighting...I'm a woman of the '00s. We can share him.
Monday, March 22, 2004
If this is true about Belle de Jour, then I will be sorely disappointed.
Yawn. Mornin' Sam. Mornin' Ralph.
Saturday night I got into a stupid fight with Bob over my passenger seat driving skillz I am starting to possess. I'm sorry, but if I truly feel I'm about to die in a car wreck, Bob, I'm gonna let you know about it. I-94W is not the Indianapolis 500 disguised with Toyota Corollas and Pontiac Bonnevilles. Where's the fire, Punchy? :: realizing I'm turning into my mother :: Ugh. The Sopranos was just ok last night---I'll assume it was a set-up episode to the great fall of Tony. And Deadwood? I watched it half-assed. I can't really get into this "Little House on the Prairie" gone awry. I'm sorry, HBO, but you're going to have to try a little bit harder than beating up bathhouse whores and public hangings. Yawn. Saturday, March 20, 2004
My mom's got the hookup, yo.
Friends from Holland are visiting in about a month and it's their first trip to Chicago. They had one request---it would be cool to see a taping of "Oprah." Like a good U.S. Ambassador, I tried for nearly two hours by phone to get tickets for us, but was failing. I pictured 900,000,000 adoring Oprah soccer moms frantically on the phone dialing, the candles to their Oprah shrine lit, their Angel Care Network tshirts on. I knew my competition was fierce. But I had Marjon and Ivon back in Holland to think of, and I was not going to give up on them. I knew I had to pull out my secret weapon. My mom. Oprah Fan Club Member #457632 was at work when I called her. "So, mom, if I can get through and get tickets to Oprah, do you wanna come?" "Sure, I'll go. In fact, this woman I work with, Janelle, her friend works at the Oprah show. I know Janelle has gone to the Oprah show few times. I wonder if she could get us tickets. I'll ask her." My mom must've sent out a strong Oprah "O-signal" into the sky, because she called a few hours later. "Guess what? I got us 4 tickets! And I think we're going to get backstage!" I know I joke about Oprah and iron-fist grip she has over my mom, but I am truly excited to go to see my mom's reaction. And I'm extremely excited we could help make a couple's trip to Chicago a little brighter. I...feel.Oprah's. power. coming. over. me. Must. combat. urge. to. cry. Friday, March 19, 2004
Oh my god. I had one of these as a kid, and I loved it. My neighbors had "Speak 'n Math" and "Speak 'n Read," too. I was jealous. And now I can play it all over again.
(thanks to Freakgirl for the link)
Illinois won today, so I get to keep my bone marrow! Yes! Bob said he has to win 3 games for him to break even---so 1 down, 2 more to go. Sweet. Why do I even care?
I just watched outside my window at work a guy get cut out of his car, hauled onto a stretcher, into a helicopter that had landed on our company lawn and now is heading for a trauma unit.
The semi must of not have seen the car at a full stop ahead of him, and it literally looked like the truck engulfed the car. Four feet of the car is stuck underneath this truck. It's a fear a lot of us have had at work---we don't have a left turn lane into our office drive, and vehicles are often speeding past us going at least 55 mph... I feel so bad for him/her...I hope they're okay... Ugh. Thursday, March 18, 2004
So, Bob's in this March Madness pool, and has bet A LOT on two teams---The Fighting Illini (I'm still learning how to pronounce the damn team's name) and Georgia Tech. The pool is for quite a sum, and he wins everytime those teams win, so please cheer them on with me, won't you?
"If they lose in the first round, I'm going to have to sell my bone marrow, aren't I, Bob?" "No, Megan, you won't have to sell your bone marrow..." "Someone's going to come after you and break your legs, aren't they?" "Megan, really, you're watching too much of 'The Sopranos.'"
St. Patty's Day in Chicago really cannot be beat. The parades, dyeing the Chicago River green, the drunken debachery....so Bob and I wooped it up pure Irish-style and got Hungarian food at Paprikash. My becsi szelet was fucking good, though.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Cool makeup alert: Loreal Double Extend Mascara. It comes with a two sided wand (and I can't help but think of a two sided dildo when i say that...welcome to my brain), one side lengthens and "fortifies" (what the hell is fortifying, anyway?), and the other side of the dildo, i mean, wand, coats it a nice shade of black. Although it promised to lengthen an extra 60 percent, I felt mine was more at a 57.4%... Decent stuff.
Guess who decided not to go to work today? Not me, I'm all dressed and ready to go. My fucking car again. I get 5 "chances" in a year with AAA before they basically cancel my membership, and folks, I'm down 2 chances in one week. This is not looking good. I called my boss, and I'm although he seemed fine and just wanted me to get it taken care of, I'm fearful how many more chances I'll get with him before he decides to cancel my job membership.
Ugh. I'm freaking out. :: waits for AAA to show up:: P.S. How rude of me---Happy St. Pat's Day. On the positive side, this sort of news will make that first beer taste that much sweeter tonight. Erin go braugh! Tuesday, March 16, 2004
So, I just got a phone call from a close friend of mine, Erin, saying how she feels kinda bad that we haven't thrown two engagement parties for two very close friends of ours, Laura and Katie.
I honestly didn't realize that people "throw" engagement parties for people. I mean, I knew about bridal showers and bachelorette parties, but an engagement party for the couple, too? Isn't that something the couple does? I claim ignorance, since I've never been engaged, and can count on 1 hand the number of weddings I've actually been to. Now I feel like a bad friend, where as 2 minutes ago, I felt totally normal. Fuck Emily Post, man.
It's snowing. Son of a bitch.
For the past two mornings, (and many mornings before), I've woken up to barely any water coming out of my shower. Not just hot water...ANY water. Apparently, any time someone else in the building is taking a shower, they get to lather up with their Irish Spring and leisurely have the greatest shower ever (or at least that's what I'm picturing), while I stand cold, naked, with my hand extended under the spout shouting, "God dammit! Turn your fucking shower off!!!" (I'm just a tad irrational when it happens) Not a great way to start the day. I doubt if that's something I can ask the landlord to "fix" either. Grouchy. That's Ms. Poopiepants to you. Monday, March 15, 2004
The most random thing I asked someone to do as a favor today:
"Can you be a witness at a lesbian couples' wedding this Friday?" Unfortunately, he could not.
I got my hair cut this weekend, and I'm still trying to figure out how to style it in under 10 minutes, because, people, i have priorities. Like sleeping. I ain't got time to be pomadin' for 1/2 hour. And, yes, pomade can be a verb.
At any rate, it reminded me of this story my friends, Erin and Chris, once told me. In the summer, they take turns nannying for this ultra rich Lincoln Park couple. This couple are the kind of people who send their three-year-old son to French immersion play group, if that tells you anything. At any rate, the husband actually interviewed his wife's hair stylist. He walked into the salon and said, "Don't do anything crazy to her hair...you know, I have to look at her everyday," and then rambled on about he's in charge of his wife's diet, since she just had a baby, and "You know, has to lose that weight." Money makes people crazy. :: coifs hair ::
A conversation with Bob:
:: listening to cd in car :: Me: "Where did you hear of this band? Did you see 'em play or something?" Him: "Nah, it actually was the ex-wife's cd. I kept it from her after the divorce." Me: "Hm, that seems fair. You gave her the house, and you got this cd." Sunday, March 14, 2004
Dear PETA,
I recently asked for a copy of your "Vegetarian Starter Kit." Along with it, you sent me a promotional cd of animals being mistreated and beaten. What I don't get is that you already had me interested in trying giving up meat---there was no need to cram that down my throat. Now, because of it, I really am turned off by your organization, and lucky for me, those images are on full replay in my head. Great job. :: fries up some bacon ::
If you haven't already, check out Michel Gondry's latest video for Steriogram's "Walkie Talkie Man". The guy is just brilliant. Yarn is the new Lego.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
WHY did I just sit through TLC - Behind the Music - Part deux? Clearly I'm overtired and delusional.
The Von Bondies show last night was just ok. Bob's two-word-review was, "Busch Light." Ouch. I didn't think it was that bad, there were some good moments. That'll probably be the last time I will ever see them live. Call me a snob, but whenever a band stops setting up their own shit on stage, it's time for Megan to leave. I'll catch ya again on the way back down, guys. Friday, March 12, 2004
I met up with Bob at this soul food restaurant called Paje. It was the first time I've seen him since he got back from Florida, so various barbequed and smothered meats seemed appropriate to reunite over. Mmm...smothered pork chops...
We headed over to The Empty Bottle, had a few beers, and played a few video games prior to the show. I found out that I can kick Bob's ass at both Galaga AND Centipede. Not by just a couple hundred points or anything---I KICKED HIS ASS by at least double his score. How am I the coolest woman in the universe? Anyway, Ben "Hot Ass" Blackwell switched places with Mick and sang the encore, "I'm Through With White Girls," and then stage dove into the audience. I swooned. Bob just said, "That was some serious rock." Clearly, we live in an unjust world because I do not understand how they are not as big, hell, bigger than The White Stripes. That's how good they are live. Tonight: The Von Bondies. Thursday, March 11, 2004
Sometimes, when I look at my blog, I almost expect to see Ms. Jayne Mansfield to stretch her arms over her head and then place them at her sides. Maybe she extends her leg into a little kick. If she starts talking to me then I know it's time to lay off the crack.
Tonight, The Dirtbombs play and I'm super excited. It'll be a bit ackward introducing my future husband, drummer Ben Blackwell, to Bob and all, but I think after a few PBRs everything will be smoothed over. Mmmm...
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Free at last! Free at last!
The shackels that once were called "cords," aren't holding me back. Yes, the AirPort is open for business. Not only will a) the irrational fear of burning my apartment down with cords all over the place finally go away but b) I think I met the man I want to marry at the Apple Store tonight. Bob's great and all, but who can resist a guy who freed me from cord oppression all while in his cute little black Apple tshirt? Confidential to Jeff, the Apple Genius Bar worker at Woodfield Mall: You had me at "ethernet." I think I love you. Um, mental note: if you ever decide to have something installed at the Apple store, be sure to take your folder(s) titled "Porn" and give it a different name, like "Kitties" or "Megan's stuff." All of a sudden, I remembered that was on there and got really jumpy, was talking fast, and kept asking what the next step was to avoid him spending too much time look at my desktop folders. I think he thought I was a freak after that. How embarrassing. Tuesday, March 09, 2004
So, I'm hoping on Thurs. we get into The Empty Bottle ok to see The Dirtbombs play, only because Bob was once kicked out of there, and I hope I make it in ok to The Double Door on Friday night to see The Von Bondies, cause I was almost kicked out of there on Valentine's Day.
We make a classy pair, don't we? Monday, March 08, 2004
Jesus, I need to have a little talk with your agent. The thing is, you're totally overexposed right now.
You saw what happened to J. Lo, and I'm afraid the same thing is happening to you. See, with that Mel Gibson movie out about you right now, then tonight ABC had the made-for-TV movie, "Judas," not to mention the upcoming movie, "The Gospel of John"...it's just a little much. Plus, we need to talk about the soundtrack to your movie. Frankly, it sucked. Maybe you need a little Justin Timberlake or Jessica Simpson. She was all about spreading Christian music before VH1 told me during her "Behind the Music" that she went secular because Christians couldn't handle her tits. I'm just saying, you're at an 11 right now, and it'd be nice to have you at a 4 or 5. People are freaking out down here. Your loving lamb, Megan
Q: "What 3 streets in Chicago rhyme with vagina?"
A. Paulina, Melvina, and Lunt. Bob told me that's an old Chicago joke, but I still crack up everytime I think of it.
Sunday, I lugged about 100 lbs. worth of wood and materials up to my apartment, spent six hours looking at wordless, picture directions (which seemed more like a coloring book), and put together my new Ikea computer desk. I only ended up with one extra screw that I had no idea where it went.
There's something gratifying in knowing that I put it together, but I'm never, ever doing it again. That desk will be passed down through all my future generations, and someday if my great-grandkid so much as says, "That's ugly." I'm going to say, "I SPENT 6 GOD *$#& HOURS PUTTING THAT THING TOGETHER. YOU'RE USING IT." And I just wanna say... Thanks, Ikea, for bringing future generations together. Sunday, March 07, 2004
"Insanity" - or - "A trip inside my head"
by: Megan S. So, follow me here. Around Christmas time, I got a new, "free" TiVo from the nice folks at work. Well, while reading (skimming) the TiVo "how to install" book, I read if you have broadband, you can hook up your TiVo to it, and avoid having to get a land phone line. Well, I knew I was in the market for a computer, so I decided to purchase an ibook so I could hook up the TiVo and the ibook broadband connection at the same time. Once the Comcast guy came to install broadband, I realized the only place I could have my computer is in the living room (where the tv is located), and there isn't much room for it in there. I decided a better place would be in my bedroom. So, to keep my broadband connection live, I had to buy an AirPort and an AirPort access card, so I could work wirelessly out of my bedroom, which is a mere 20 ft. away. And then I decided, "well, I should have something to put it on", so I bought a desk from Ikea today. And while at the mall, I saw that there was a new H&M store, and I stopped in there, and bought some stuff. And then I saw a really cute pair of shoes, so I had to get those. So far, to have this "free TiVo", it's basically cost me...somewhere in the range of $1900 or so. The fucking thing that kills me is---MY TIVO STILL ISN'T SET UP.
Today, I'm headin' to the Apple Store to purchase an Airport and then over to IKEA to buy a cheapy computer desk. If I'm not back in 10 hours, send for help.
Friday, March 05, 2004
Now, I don't need to really reinforce this stereotype, but cat owners are typically a little off (including my parents...and myself) when it comes to their cats. However, cattery owners are REALLY off. Check out this site that we're looking to buy a British Shorthair from. Not only is my future kitty's momma's name "Duchess von Eraunes," but at the end of the website, they made a point to say,
"In closing I want to tell you, that knowing Christ as your Savior is the most important thing you will ever know. You must repent of your sins and believe that Christ died on the Cross to pay for your sins, or you shall surely perish. And I do not want that for you." Dude, all I want is one of your cats. I guess he'll pray for me even harder if he knows I want to name him, "Mr. Walter Tinkleton."
Note: Please excuse the blabber---i've had a few margaritas at lunch.
I asked this new girl, Heather, out to lunch today and realized that we have margaritas in common. Neither of us have much going on today, so we figure no one would really miss us if we were gone for a couple of hours... Heather is a very pretty girl. All-American, if you will. Maybe it's due to where she sits (she's in a very "open" area), but she gets hit on by every receding hairlined guy at work, and I find it fucking hilarious. Instead of providing her sympathy, I'm more of the "point-and-laugh" kind of friend. Confidential to Chuck R.: You're married and about 45 years old....you should know better to not hit on the P.Y.T's (thank you Michael Jackson for that term) at work. They will inevitably have a friend who loves to rip consistantly on you. And finally, you know how most people try to avoid getting signed up for email newsletters? Well, I just signed up for the "Elvis recipes of the month" newsletter. Oh yeah.
Even though you have the urge, do not post after a margarita lunch, Megan. Do not do it...
This weekend isn't shaping up to be a very exciting one. Bob is in Florida buying and selling horses or something. Yesterday he called me before he left, and when he said he was shovin' off, I audibly, "Awww"-ed. He said, "I'll be back on Monday night, it's not like I'm going to war." It doesn't help the cable and internet connection decided to go out on me last night, so Megan suddenly has a lot of time on her hands.
I am headin' down to the Cubby Bear tonight for a friend's birthday shindig, and that's about it for the entire. weekend. God dammit, why did I have to be a child of the TV generation? Entertain me, world! Suddenly, my mom's voice of "Read a book, if you're so bored." going through my head. :: twiddles thumbs :: Thursday, March 04, 2004
This is pretty nerdy, but sometimes get excited to go to the grocery store. I find pleasure in perusing the aisles for shit I don't exactly know what to do with---like, polenta cheese, various chutneys, spaetzel (actually, I know what to do with spaetzel, but I just like having it around so I can exclaim, "DAS EST SPAETZEL!" at random in my kitchen).
Last night, I made chocolate souffle w/ pistachio crunchies on top, and they actually souffled. I'll admit, I felt pretty bad ass standing there in my kitchen (my ego still recovering from the chocolate souffle cake mishap). Who owns this kitchen again, bitch? That's right, souffle, I do. I saved 2 of them for you in my freezer.
Incase you're ever wondering, "I wonder what a porn star would say if he/she ever wrote a letter to me?" here it is:
(on Emily The Strange stationery), "Megs -> HEY! Brief Hello! Got this cool letter things (um, it's called stationery), and thought that you would deserve one! Hope your rocking and I certainly hope your rocking in Chicago! See ya! Vote Edwards in 2004 (random). (Heart) Ryan (last name)" He had included some folded up 'take art classes at the art institute' card in there. Once in a different letter he sent, he gave me a patch (that you'd sew onto your backpack) for some random state park. And in yet another letter, he colored (like crayoned) a "Congrats on your move!" sign for me. He's an interesting character...but I just hope it doesn't escalate to sending me like, a pig's heart in the mail. The guy kinda calls me a lot...at least once a week. I don't always answer, cause usually I'm out with Bob when he calls and the last time I read "Emily Post's Guide to Etiquette" I heard taking calls from guys in porn at the dinner table is kinda rude. I wonder if he's trying to recruit me. Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Bob asked me if I wanted to "ride bikes" recently. I haven't heard that term since I was about 9, and it felt so warm, comforting, and innocent. I'm sure that feeling will go away after the first asshole opens his car door just in front of my oncoming bike going 30 mph. Ah, Spring.
I think I turned a little lesbian last night.
We went to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs play at The Metro, and although I've said some cruel things in the past about Karyn O. being one of the ugliest women in rock, fuck, is she hot on stage. I turned to Bob and said, "I think I'm turning a little lesbian for Karyn O...is that going to be a problem for you?" And he said laughing, "No, I always knew you had it in you a little." Great. Bob thinks I'm actually gay. ....I'm saying this as I just had a pinup girl themed blog (which I love) designed for me, I realize this. At any rate, they were great. At what point does a girl realize that she can scream---(and it actually sounds good)---that she says to herself, "I should be in a band." Courtney Love (albeit not one of my most favorite humans on earth) has this same quality. Sucks me in. And although I've heard people (not naming any names) tell me that women can't rock...Karyn O. is that band. Tuesday, March 02, 2004
What? Nothing's weird around here...everything's totally normal. Ok, so it was definitely time for a redesign, but I honestly don't have the time (lie) or the patience (truth) to learn it...so I really want and need to thank Miss Maggie...aka Unsided for her work. Love her. I have a slight obsession with pinup queens, burlesque and sweater girls, and Maggie understood that. Meet Ms. Jayne Mansfield. Rarrr... Thanks again, Maggie.
They should really change the name of my city to Oak 'Don't' Park. Anytime I have a guest stay at my place, I'm supposed to call the city and get their car "ok"ed by the parking bureau...needless to say, this is something that I tend to forget to do. I've gotten really, really good at writing parking protest letters. I have written myself out of two tickets (saved myself $80), and now I'm going to take this pen (computer) and Shakespeare my way out of yet another one. THERE'S NO SIGN SAYING NO OVERNIGHT PARKING, ASSWIPE! Regards, Megan.
Monday, March 01, 2004
One bad ass storm swept through Chicago today and blew out our power at work, so we got to go home early. Woop! Serves 'em right for making us work on Casimir Pulaski Day. No idea who he is? Well, me neither, but that doesn't stop schools/other companies for getting that day off. Stingy bastids. I was calling it Roman Polanski day all day today, anyway. Pulaski...Polanski..whatever.
Yawn. Mornin' Sam. Mornin' Ralph.
Bob and I got into a stupid fight Saturday night over my "front seat driving" skillz I am starting to possess. I'm sorry, but if I truly feel I'm about to die in a car wreck, Bob, I'm gonna let you know about it. I-94W is NOT the Indianapolis 500 disguised with Toyota Corollas and Pontiac Bonnevilles. Where's the fire, punchy? The Sopranos was ok last night---I'll cut it some slack assuming that it was a set up episode to the great fall of Tony. And 'Deadwood?' I don't really get into 'Little House on the Prairie' gone awry. HBO is gonna have to give me more substance than beating up bathhouse whores and public hangings. Try again.
Dragging ass this morning...Man, Bob is NOT the guy to go out with the day after a night of drinking. The dude is all 'go go go go', and I'm all 'lay around, sleep, eat hangover food, sleep'. We went out for brunch at Bistro Margot (so so good), followed by an impromtu day at the "zoo"...if you call seeing only two monkeys, a lion, a few penguins, and a polar bear a zoo. Winter is a weird time to go there, but it was just too beautiful outside to not walk around.
Speaking of Senor Bob, he got a new fancypants car---a black Cadillac CTS. He got some special dealer package on it, so it looks half like it's the Batmobile and half like it should be in some rap video somewhere. But no. It's just Bob driving it around. B-O-B spelled the same forwards and backwards. Bob. My funny guy. I got so bored with the Oscars last night, I turned it off at 10:30 and went to bed. Another TV event I watch mainly for the ads...and to see whose stylist should be fired. Go to Freakgirl for the commentary that matters. |
