Packers beat the Redskins! If the urban legend holds up, that means Kerry should win on Tuesday. YEAH!

I'm staying at my parents house in Wisconsin this weekend while I attend a wedding. My parents, however, are out of town on vacation. (Party.) Anyway, they had 5 messages on their answering machine when I got here. 4 out of the 5 were recordings to vote for George Fucking Bush.

Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.

There's someone playing Jimmy Buffet on their CD player near me at work. I'm about to go fucking postal on this place, people.

I heart Halloween.


This was the gracious hostess on her front porch. She made her Victorian costume out of an old homecoming dress she had. She's craf-ty!


Britney and her pimp. My favorite part of Kelly's costume was her gold tooth. If someone asked me why I kept the $5.99 on my sunglasses, I think I said, "Because she's a cheap whore." I may have had some cocktails in me. I may have.


I loved this guy's costume. I think he should've won the costume contest, but Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey won instead.


Britney and Jessica Simpson. I was complimenting her on her outfit ("Oh wow, you even have the Louis Vuitton purse and the can of Chicken in the Sea, blah blah blah"), and then I said, "Oh wow, you even have a huge ring just like she has." And then she said, "Oh. That's my wedding ring." And then we laughed. And then I thought, "Lucky bitch." (kidding, kidding...sort of)


Party people. I think Blueman won for Most Original Costume. Sumo and Cowboy are dating. Mmmm...inflatable outfits...


Mrs. Federline. I learned I look terrible with black hair and will never, ever dye it that way. Mainly because of the paleness. Oh god, the paleness.

Happy Halloween! I think I'm going to be doing it all over again this Friday night.

Yesterday, Laura and I were in Neiman Marcus (long story why we were even in there in the first place - basically I'm trying to replace a Christmas present that Bob gave me last year that I fucking lost - and he always asks me about it) when I spotted La Mer creme at the cosmetics counter. Now, Laura didn't know what it was and I only knew thanks to J. Lo and Vh1 programming. Two women at the counter approached us and told us how the product was made (something about harvesting sea kelp at midnight), how it helps burn victims, and I'm pretty sure it also cures starvation in the Sudan. She gave us some samples and invited me to a class on how to fucking apply it. A class! On how to apply moisterizer! Apparently, mere mortals don't apply their moisterizer right so they have to teach us. I have to hand it to the woman - I left there thinking spending $199 on moisterizer was totally rational. Good God.

I woke up this morning with contacts glued to my eyes and a Hello Kitty trucker cap/veil still on my head. It's safe to say I had a good time last night. However, this morning I feel more like poo as the day goes on, which is prompting me to sing the "I Feel Like Poo" song I made up, which has a little repetitive punk guitar rift and goes,

I Feel Like Poo
I Feel Like Poo
I Feel Like Poo
I Feel Like Poo

Thank you, Chicago!

Pictures to come tomorrow night. I forgot the damn chord I need at work.

I told my boss as I was leaving work yesterday, "Just know that at some point this weekend, I will be dressed up as Britney Spears." She just shook her head.

Last night, as I was coming up the elevator, a 60-something year old African American man name Eugene (Gene, for short, I found out) asked me if I'm a "married lady" and when I said, "no," he then invited me over to his place for "cocktails." When he said it, it sounds so very swingin' 60s lounge-like. I imagine his apartment is filled with stewardesses in 60s mod dresses and guys in plaid suits with huge lamb chop sideburns, drinking brandy out of snifters.

I don't remember this happening on Melrose Place. There was no 60s-something guy hitting on Sydney.

Not really sure why my last post deleted itself. You're not hallucinating about Healthy Choice.

Dear Packers,

I know you've had a really shitty year so far. But the state of our country is now in your hands. A win for the Packers next weekend against the Washington Redskins is a win for Kerry.

Your loving lamb,

Megan

It's expensive becoming Wedding Day Britney. Which is ironic, seeing how trashy she looks these days.

A Conversation with Bob while watching the Yankees/Sox game:

Me: "You know, I was half-cheering for the Yankees until Game 6 happened and the riot squad had to come out because their fans are immature dickwads."

Bob: "Yeah, but the Red Sox are just a bunch of pussies. No matter what, they're still a bunch of losers."

Me(interrupting): "Waaaaah. Waaaaah. We're losing."

Bob: "Yeah, but Yankees fans can still just say, "Well, we still live in NY."

Me: "Why do you hate Chicago so much?"

Bob: "I don't hate Chicago, I'll always stick up for this place if someone's doggin' on it. In fact you saw me stick up for it in that bar that one time."

Me: "Bob, you were sticking up for NY. You lied to some guy about living there, he dogged on it, and you almost got into a fight with him even though you don't even live there."

Bob: "Oh yeah..."

Me: Sigh.

Your sex horoscope for this week. Magic Date Ball knows no wrong.

Everytime I go through the Dunkin Donuts drive thru, the very nice Indian man who works at the window says to me, "Long time," every. single. goddamn. time. I know I don't come to Dunkin Donuts everyday, sir, but I will not be guilted into having your delicious $1.49 coffee. I will not.

Favorite quote today:

A girl I work with just brought her two kids in while she finished something she was working on. Her son, who I'm assuming is about 4 or 5, just ran down the aisle screaming, "I FARTED! I FARTED! STINKY BUTT! I'VE GOT A STINKY BUTT!"

I really need to go Halloween shopping soon. "Wedding Day" Britney isn't going to build herself, people.

This morning for breakfast, I had an egg salad burrito of sorts.

It reminds me of the time in college I made a quiche out of hotdogs, bacon bits, Egg Beaters, a pre-made pie crust and fat-free cheese. I wonder if Nigella ever had days like this. Somehow I imagine she's like the Macguyver of the cooking world and could take a can of creamed corn, some pimento olives, Nutella, and a V-8 and be able to make a delicious and attractive souffle. Little does she know that my egg salad burrito will become the rage of Foodies everywhere, and Chicago Magazine food critics will write that my style of cuisine is 40s Housewife-Tex Mex fusion.

I really need to go to the grocery store already.

One of my best friends, Laura, asked me to be in her wedding this upcoming May. Obviously, I'm very excited to be a part of her big day and I was even more excited when she called me on Saturday to tell me she picked the bridesmaid dress that I oooooh-ed and ahhhhhh-ed over, even before I knew she was considering it. It'll be a different color, but I think it's really pretty. Granted, I won't have as big of hair as the model. And I'm pretty sure I won't look as mean (read: hungry) as the model. And I'm also pretty sure there won't be any wicker couches at her wedding. But other than that, it'll totally be the same.

The funniest thing I've read all day:

"Mel Gibson, 48, has obtained a restraining order against a man who apparently has demanded that they pray together."

The funny thing is, I can't tell which one is the crazy one.

Dear Everybody,

I just got a raise, and I fucking deserved it.

Love, Megan

I still can't believe this happened.

This past weekend, my parents were in Saguatuck, MI, for a little getaway. While there, my dad accidently left his new digital camera on a bench outside an ice cream shop (seriously, could this scene GET any more Midwestern?). When they realized it was gone, they retraced their steps to the bench and found nothing. My mom said, "Well. Someone got a really nice camera." Bummed, they eventually arrived home in WI, and my dad decided to try and call the local police department (I swear this wasn't an old episode of "The Andy Griffith Show") to see if anyone had turned in a Sony digital camera in a blue case.

AND THEY HAD.

My faith in humanity is restored.

It smells like braunsweiger in my cube, and no I was not eating it.

...

Let's not talk about it.

The day of reckoning has arrived.

On Thurs., I receive my review at work. This would normally not be so terrifying if it didn't include 3 people sitting in a tiny conference room discussing my work. I'm having flashbacks to Parent/Teacher Conferences in school where I expected the worst,

"Megan is not going to pass the 2nd grade,"

when all I really ever got was, "Megan is a pretty good kid who talks too much." (every. single. year.)

Twenty years later, not much has changed. Expecting the worst, hoping for the best. Pray for me, dear readers.

Yesterday my parents visited me on their way home from a weekend in Michigan. They helped me redecorate/rearrange my apartment (seriously, how nice is that? so nice) and we learned that nails will not go into the wall without taking half the 1920s plaster with it. I'm sure my landlord will appreciate our findings.

In other news, I've heard from 3 people I haven't talked to in over a year in the past 3 days. Coincidence? My favorite being from a guy I knew in Detroit who saw my Friendster profile (of all things), emailed me to say how nice my picture looked and then said,

"I wish I wasn't such an immature dickhead when I knew you."

Awesome. And for the record, he indeed was an immature dickhead when I knew him.

Last night I had a dream that I won $1000 for an essay I wrote. I don't remember what the essay was about, but I was so excited cause, hell, who couldn't use $1000, and I was thinking of all the fun things I was going to spend it on - a new cute hand bag? Or should I be practical, and just put it towards bills and invest it? Woooo!

Imagine my disappointment when I woke up and realized I'm just a turd with a blog.

Seriously, people. Cough up your Halloween ideas so I can steal them and claim them as my own. It's the least you bastards could do. Thanks.

Pick Nose! Pick Butt! Pick Kerry!

Was it just me, or did Dick Cheney look a little jaundice tonight?



Mmmmm...bile materials in the blood.

Even your precious Poland turned away from you, Mr. Bush.

Ok, the drive-thru woman at Arby's just said to me, "The usual?" This is sad for numerous reasons a) she recognizes my car, b) she recognizes my voice, c) she recognizes the fact that I can't seem to get my shit together to pack a lunch, d) she recognizes I'm addicted to her crack-ridden chicken salad sandwiches.

In other news, today I was supposed to put up my list of "Top 10 Best Cover Songs Ever," and as you can see, that didn't happen. Maybe tomorrow. I know. I'm lame.

Do I only find this funny, cause I'm an ad nerd? Don't answer that.

September 30, 2004
Consumers Match Product Brands to US Presidential Contenders
Bringing an unexpected branding twist to this year's US presidential season, a major marketing firm has conducted a survey of US consumers asking them to pair candidates John Kerry and George W. Bush with the consumer products they most associate with them. Results of this political branding profile are:

Brands associated with Kerry:
BMW
Starbucks
Kmart
Heineken

Brands associated with Bush:
Ford
Dunkin' Donuts
Wal-Mart
Bud Light

A close friend of mine's grandfather died, a few of us are chipping in to buy flowers.

My God are funeral flowers f'ugly. When I die, if anyone were to get me flowers such as this, I swear to you, I will make like Jesus and rise from the dead to say, "Seriously, what did I do to you?"



Is that a satin wrapped horn of some sort?