Off to DC to attend Mihow & Toby's eloping/going away party. Be back Sunday. Have a great weekend!

I've been having a hard time not picking up the phone and calling Bob the past couple of days. Breaking up with someone really is like a death in many ways. Come to think of it, after one especially tough break-up (many moons ago in college), I'm sure I might of almost wished the fucker actually had died. Glad I'm all mature now and stuff. Bob and i didn't have a terrible breakup, though. So it's like not calling a friend because...you tend to forget why you can't in the first place. Meh.

Yesterday I heard Madonna's "Vogue" twice, which isn't a song that you normally hear on the radio twice in one day---unless that pesky time machine broke down again and it's really 1988. Which made me wonder, did Madonna die and nobody tell me? I remember hearing the song in 1988, and not knowing who the hell Dietrich and "Harlo Gene" were.

To be honest, I still didn't know who "Harlo Gene" was until I just Googled it and realized it was Jean Harlow, who was a pin-up queen. For shame, Megan.

"Things that don't mix"
by Megan S., premenstrual syndrome sufferer.

1) Oil and water.
2) Palestinians and Jews.
3) A woman with PMS and bad traffic.

I practically went AWOL today. That is all.

For some reason, I've gotten myself on the Maxim circulation list. I must of forgotten to "uncheck" some internet box that said, "Yes! Please sign me up for a 17-year-old's whack off material!" I'll have to remember to cancel that. But for now...Helllllooo scantily clad women of Van Helsing. Meow.

A good clue that I might be PMSing is if you catch me crying at the end of "Finding Nemo." Too grouchy to post, more tomorrow.

This post is for all you lovely pedophiles out there...

Tonight, I went to a wedding reception for a couple I've only met a few times. I was invited as "the date" of a friend of mine. While there, a guy was just being friendly and introduced himself to me. Moments later I said to a friend, "That guy's cute...who's he?" And she laughed at me and said, "That's Haley's (the bride) brother, and he's in HIGH SCHOOL."

Jesus Christ, Megan.

Crud.

So, last Friday night I might of met up with Bob at a bar and I might of told him that I bought two tickets to see the Pixies. And then I might of said in a moment of weakness, "Do you wanna go?" And he might of practically jumped at the chance to say, "Yes, and you HAVE to promise you won't back out of it."

And that might of been a really dumb thing to do, huh?

Today, my mom drove from Wisconsin to meet Marjon, Ivon and I, and we headed over to see a taping of "The Oprah Show." We stood in line for about an hour, and finally got inside. Then, we sat for about another hour, and got inside the studio. Then, we sat in the studio and The Oprah Apostles (aka, her worker bees) had us practice our Oprah cheer to make us sound like the greatest audience of all time. We patiently waited for our Lord, I mean, Oprah to arrive.

And then She arrived. And it was good.

We knew the topic that day was "Atrocities to Children," and literally, tissues were planted underneath our chairs. A woman behind us started crying before the show even started and left because she didn't know if she could take the graphic images. After the first segment, a young woman had to be carried out of the studio. Later, we found out she was having heart palpitations and troubles breathing. Extremely disturbing show that included segments on child prostitution, rape, and child soldiers. I'll let you know when it's on. Good times.

After the show, our contact at the show gave us a tour. We saw one of Oprah's dogs hanging out, offices, as well as their Fitness Center and Spa. Oprah is currently building a new gym for her people. Word on the street is she is destroying the old one and the new one will be built in 3 days...

I'm going to hell.

Last night, we had tornado warnings here which (I'd like to think) added a little "oomph" to Marjon and Ivon's stay. Eight tornados ripped through this general area last night. At one point, the sirens were going off outside my window, so we headed down to the first floor for a few minutes. No harm done.

Today, we go to Oprah. Do not defy The Oprah.

For the record, Marjon is an excellent chef. Last night, she made us a traditional Dutch meal called Hutsput (Dutch Stew). I contributed the extremely complicated and traditional Hispanic-American appetizer of chips and three (!) kinds of salsa (fancy!). I think a white dove flew overhead at one point with an olive branch in its mouth.

And incase you're wondering, they don't have the saying, "If you ain't Dutch, you ain't much," in Holland. I asked.

The Dutch have officially landed. Much of this past week has been spent meeting or talking with people I've met on here, which has been a really great experience so far...a.k.a., we've had fun and no one has tried to rob or kill me. Bonus! Ok, I didn't really think anyone actually would, and I'd really be amazed at Freakgirl or Mihow's powers if they were able to kill me through the phone. heh.

Yesterday, Marjon, Ivon and I met up with Bob at Bernie's for a few beers before the Cubs game. I'm amazed Bob would even walk into that stadium as he's such a Sox fan. "Sox are the workin' man's team," he says. "Not some Lincoln Park Trixies team." Since the Sox were outta town this weekend, he got us great seats at Wrigley, and smiled really big when the Cubs lost by 1 in extra innings. It was like extra gravy on his day. We ate hot dogs, drank beer, and sang "Take Me Out To The Ball Game." How much more American can you get?

Tonight, Marjon has agreed to attack my kitchen and make a traditional Dutch dinner for us. Woop!

Um, the Pixies have now scheduled their 4th show in Chicago. I think the entire city can now go if they really wanted to.

Random thoughts, by Megan S. Age: 26.

This past Easter weekend, it amused me to watch my mom explain to my 87-year-old grandma what a digital camera is. "You can delete the pictures that don't come out so good, take the red eye out, and then Mike (my dad) can print them right out from the computer." My grandma just "ohh-ed" and nodded knowingly. This is the same woman that once said to me, "I just hope you don't have to work on computers all the time," as if it computers are a waste of time and will never catch on.

And then I fast forward myself 60 years from now, when my grandkids are explaining to me, "Grandma, you just push the button on the side of your temple, and the transporter takes you to wherever you need to go." And me just "ohhh-ing" like I have any fucking clue what they're talking about.

I can't wait to get old, man.

Due to my profession, I currently have quite a number of high-end camera phones sitting at my desk. I'm daydreaming of pulling a Tony Soprano, hiring 3 Italian Men and a Truck, and fishtailin' it outta here.** If you see "Megan's Wireless" pop up on North Ave., you know that I've joined the "family business."

** incase the FBI is perusing blogs (and if you are, isn't Jimmy Hoffa STILL missing?), I have no intentions of really doing this, so you can go back to eating your donut. Zing!

No, I'm not checking to see when "The Price Is Right" is taping while I'm out in LA at all...

Yesterday I booked my flight out to DC for Mihow and Toby's eloping reception. I don't think they were really too keen on my sexual-themed wedding party favor ideas I was throwing their way, but I couldn't help it---the event planner in me was in full effect. Mihow, I'm tellin' ya, your grandma will just think they're ear plugs. It's cool.

So nice of them to invite me on their special day, and to meet everyone. I'm really looking forward to it!

So, the past two days I've woken up at 5:30 in the morning to someone clearly angry at someone else that they are using noise revenge. Two days ago it was loud rap music, and this morning, it was a very loud bass that unfortunately didn't keep driving along down the street. At one point, i heard some guy shout from his window, "TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!," but it didn't stop for another good five minutes. Congrats, bastard. I'm sure you're getting your revenge and in the meantime, pissing off a 4-block area of Oak Park.

Welcome Marjon and Ivon!

Ok, so my mom called yesterday and says that the Oprah taping we (Marjon and Ivon) were supposed to go next Tuesday was cancelled, so we got tickets for the following day. However, the topic doesn't get much cheerier. Not only do I have to sit through the woman that has brainwashed my mom and millions of women everywhere, but the topic that day is, "Atrocities to Children."

First one to cry makes it on TV! Good god.

The latest issue of Chicago Magazine just arrived at my door yesterday with the "Best New Restaurants" issue on the cover. Good thing I just broke up with that boyfriend of mine. Lord knows I hate eating at restaurants with other people. I probably couldn't afford any of these restaurants, anyway. They should seriously consider changing the name of this magazine to "Chicago: The City You're Too Poor To See, Biotch" Magazine.

In happier news, I caught up with an old friend of mine yesterday, and we've decided to check our vacation schedules to do a long weekend in Hell-A next month and visit friends that live there. I'm super excited. Mental note: Check to see if we can get "The Price Is Right" tickets. Other mental note: Get glittery Dolly Parton karoke costume ready. Perfect "9 to 5." Bring house down. You already wish you were there.

If you hate kitties, you will think this fake ad is funny. But also note, you are a cold hearted bastard.

I actually laughed, but don't tell the Jebus kittie breeders we bought Mr. Walter Tinkleton from.

Freakgirl and Mihow, do not watch this.

The Sopranos tonight? Great. I can't believe they mentioned Abelard and Heloise---a great book that my "Philosophy of Love and Personal Relationships" (yes, I really took a class called that) professor in England once asked me to read. The professor looked a little like Jim Morrison and wasn't textbook cute, but when you're sitting in a tutorial and the guy is talking about forbidden love, mmmeeeooww. I never missed a class.

I just bought 2 tix to see The Pixies!! Now I just have to figure out who's coming with. Details, schmetails.

Fuck, sometimes it is really weird being back in my hometown. My parents still live in the same house I grew up in, and although they've re-done most of it, I look at the trees outside and think, "When did they get so BIG?! How has time slipped by?" I also think this about whenever I see someone drinking in the bars I once babysat. "Dude, I saw your pee-pee at age 2, how are we drinking in the same bar?"

Cheers to you and you.

I took the day off and am heading up to Milwaukee to meet my parents for lunch and do a little shopping. As you can see, we're really devout Catholics. Our stations of the cross will be somewhere inbetween Marshall Field's and The Gap. Then it's onto my hometown, Sheboygan, until Easter Sunday. And, no, Easter brunch does not include bratwurst. Or as Jessica Simpson called them, "Bratsworths." I'm sure a few tears were shed in Sheboygan that day.

THE PIXIES
Saturday, Nov. 13
Aragon Ballroom, Chicago
Onsale noon Saturday, April 10, through Ticketmaster

Oh shit. Who wants to go with me?

Number of people so far who have compared my fall out with Bob to Monica and Richard's on Friends: 3.

Suggested listening while reading this entry: anything by Journey.

Bob called me twice yesterday---once during work to make sure i was okay, and then once last night. He started last night's conversation, "HI!!!! How are you doing?!!!" to which I responded, "Well, Mr. Chipper, how do you think I'm doing? Why are you sounding so happy right now?" He told me that he had the shittest day ever, which I will admit, made me feel a little better. Jokingly, I told him that I understood, and that "he's probably realizing being dumped by me is difficult and he's probably expecting years of turmoil ahead of him." He laughed and called me an ass.

Poor sap.

Pussy Ranch had a great article written about her in Twin Cities' City Pages. I can't help but think of those commercials for the Marines where they say, "If your life were a book, would anybody wanna read it?," and then think of Diablo Cody and say to myself, "5,000 people hit her site a day, and she isn't diving into a swamp for George Bush...the girl be doin' something right."

So, randomly, almost every city I've lived in is now in my Friendster list, EXCEPT for Oak Park. Clearly, they are holding a grudge against me for bitching about the parking fiasco that they won't even be my Friend...ster. Even Detroit agreed to be my friendster, and look at how much I bitched about them, Oak Park. It's a love/hate thing we've got going. Succumb to it.

I really have nothing too uplifting to say today since I think I sort of dumped my boyfriend at the L & L Tavern last night. "Ballroom Blitz" by The Sweet was playing overhead at one point, I remember. The rest was a blur.

It didn't end *too* badly. In fact, by this morning I was wondering if we even really broke up at all. All I know is, I have a newly ex-boyfriend who is still my friend. They're practically becoming like collector figurines on my shelf.

:: pulls covers over head ::

This site has put me in a great mood this afternoon. I give you: Found Magazine. Check out the "notes" section [thanks to Girl27 for the link].

I've decided never to do anybody a favor ever again.

Ok, I'm not that much of a heartless bitch, but I invited a family friend to stay at my place the night before she and her friend flew out to Vegas. They decided to leave their car near my apartment and take a cab to the airport, cause we figured it would be cheaper than parking in the Economy lot.

I tried calling the Oak "Don't" Park parking bitches to get an extended parking pass for their car, only to find out that I have to move her car twice a day---near the El that offers 12-hour meters during the day, and at a different spot at night. It's become a nightmare. On top of some other stresses, I started feeling sorry for myself and almost started crying at work, and I HATE girls that cry at work. Buck up, li'l camper.

On Saturday, a bunch of us got together and bowled at Lucky Strike for a charity bowling gig benefiting some underprivileged kids something or other. My heart was right there, man. Right there.

My team, "Split Happens," drank our way not to victory, but to 6th place. I beat Bob both games, but I don't think he really cared since his NCAA team, Georgia Tech, won Saturday night. It caused him to start singing "Georgia On My Mind" off-key at random points that night, which yes, Bob, I know you won big tonight, but shut up already. His head hurt the next day.

A year ago today I quit my job at 3:30 in the afternoon, left at 5, and never went back. Although it was a relief to know I was finally getting out of Detroit (that city is like a bad, abusive boyfriend that somehow you always forgive and keep coming back to), I was terrified of not knowing what I was going to do next. But I remember being somewhat comforted in thinking, "Remember this day a year from now, and see where you'll be then."

It's been a really, really good year.

Late night posting for mature audiences only:

Bob was telling me about a funny amateur porn site he recently saw where these college students are at a frat party. Of course, these "innocent" sorority girls come in and then all craziness ensues. The part that cracked me up is that once things start happening, all the frat brothers gather around and start chanting, "Gamma Sigma Pi! Gamma Sigma Pi!" So dumb and funny.

Sounds to me these guys are in need of a little ego boost for any "inadequacies" they may have...

The other day, the greatest movie of all time, "The Blues Brothers" was on Vh1. I've seen it probably 15 times, and can't believe I never noticed this. Carrie Fisher is sitting in her car during a rainstorm and reading how to use a blow torch. The hair salon she's sitting in front of is called, "Curl Up & Dye," which actually *is* a (rather posh) salon here in Chicago. Now I feel all deceived that for the longest time I thought the Clark Street salon owner was all clever. Bastards.

I called my mom last night, practically screaming and told her I was engaged and that we're getting married in Vegas next week. She must of taken her Centrium Silver because she just laughed and laughed and just said, "You can't get married there, that's where Bob's first wedding took place!"

Touche, Mom, and Ouch.

No April Fools' joke, but just like *that* I'm a new "mother." I just got an email from Von Duchess' owner (the creepy Jesus people) saying that my boy kitty was born last night. I'll be able to pick him up in 12 weeks. Woooo!

Just like sea monkeys, over the next few weeks you can watch me magically morph into the freaky cat lady right before your eyes! New! Improved! Freakiness!

The kitty shower will be happening in a few weeks. I kid. Sort of. You're all invited. Get excited. There will be alcohol.

Went to see Johnny Depp's "Secret Window" last night. The ending was utter crap. Like a bad 1960s thriller. We actually laughed at the ending. Save yourself the 2 hours and take up crocheting instead.

A co-worker and I are devising a plan to play an April Fools joke on my parents, telling them that I just got engaged and that Bob and I are heading to Vegas next week and seeing if they can make it. To make it "extra-real" i might call them really late tonight (late for my near-geriatric parents is like, 10:30 PM) and just say it JUST happened when Bob took me out to dinner at the Old Country Buffet or something ridiculous, asked me in front of the creamed corn and that I just couldn't wait to call them. The combination of them being tired, plus old and forgetting that it's April Fools day will send them right over the edge into yelling at me about how I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Good times.

I get so nervous doing this sort of thing, I might pee myself a little.