Welcome to Sheboygan, WI. Grab a brew and join me, won'tcha?



Bratwurst Capital of the World. John Candy mentioned Sheboygan in the movie, "Home Alone." Um....the Chordettes who sang the '50s hits "Lollipop" and "Mr. Sandman" were from Sheboygan. Ok, I'm really stretching here. Anyway, it's my hometown, and where I spent my Christmas break.



Lake Michigan. Looking especially dreary this time of the year. When I moved to Detroit, I really missed living near it.



If you do ever find yourself in this fair city, I highly recommend stopping at Vreeke's. I've spent a'many a'night at this bar. The bartender, MaryAnne, is a blonde German lady who tends bar there every night (imagine what her lungs look like) and despite living here for most of her life, she still has a thick German accent. They make the best damn bloody marys here. And I don't even like bloody marys. THAT'S HOW GOOD (and by good, I mean I'm usually drunk when I'm having one) THEY ARE.



How many Piggly Wiggly's do you know that come with a Brat Haus that on any given weekend you can pick up a double brat with your groceries? Not enough, my friends. Not enough.



Waiting for Santa at my parents' house.



When I was a senior in high school, we had an exchange student, Camilla, from Norway stay with us. Her mom made my family these mittens and we were so excited to receive these as gifts. So talented.


Fucking Meltaways. They aren't the prettiest cookies ever, but I gotta tell you, they are tasty as all hell.

Merry belated Christmas everyone. I hope '05 treats you all well. 5's a lucky number, right? '04's been tough on a lot of people. I'm optimistic.

This is what happens when you have too much time on your hands in Wisconsin.



That's right. It's a little Green Bay Packers jersey and a parrot hat.

Um, yesterday my mom bought me a copy of He's Just Not That Into You.

Seriously, mom, quit it with the hidden messages. What are you trying to say to me?
...
The woman means well.

I'm on day six of my Sheboygan, WI, vacation. Try to contain your jealousy, folks. I'll be home on Thurs. Pictures to come shortly...

Reason #1 I think I might be adopted

Watching Vh1's "Best Year Ever" with my mom when she said, "I like Ryan Seacrest."
Me: "Um, no you don't."
Mom: "There's nothing wrong with him, I think he's kinda cute."
Me: "Well, don't say that in public, then."

Proof that we cannot possibly share the same DNA.

I'm now home in Wisconsin, and it's -9 degrees F outside.

Holy shitballs. I'm sorry, but I can not HELP but swear in funny phrases.

Shit muthafucker poop balls cunty mutherfucker. It's cold.

See?! I'm not crazy! Maggie and her mom tried making my favorite cookies and in the meantime saved Christmas. AND she says they're "so fucking good, yo." Everyone cheer, for the terrorists still have not won.

You want to get me this for Christmas. This is what Megan wannnnttss...

:: hypnotizing you ::

Clearly I have nothing to do today, as you can tell by my obessive blogging skillz.

And in otber news...I'b getting a colb.

I will now proceeb to dobe myself ub on colb mebication.
zzzzz...

Guess who's still mailing out Christmas cards?
...
Stop judging me.

Sometimes readers send me email telling me how much they enjoy reading my blog, how smart and pretty I am (ok, I made that one up, BUT YOU BETTER RECOGNIZE). Today, let's take a look in the mailbag and just give you a sample of the love I receive during this holiday season:

"Okay Megan.
I need to make these cookies. For two reasons.
1. They're so good you tried to make them 3 times.
2. I want to know if there is something wrong with you.
Please send! I'm going to make them as soon as I get the recipe. Expect a report."
...
FEEL THE LOVE.

So, incase you want to make these kick ass cookies that I've failed at 3 times, here's the recipe. If you make them (and they turn out), please do not rub it into my face, for I will come to your house and kickith your ass. Apparently, the "aren't hard" to make according to my mom.

Meltaways
aka Megan's favorite Christmas cookie
aka Those fucking cookies I tried making 3 times

Ingredients (doubles "easily" - bwa ha!):
1/2 lb. butter (you MUST use real butter)
1/2 cup powdered sugar
2/3 cup corn starch
1-1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 tsp. salt

Let butter soften. Cream butter and powdered sugar. Then add the rest of the ingredients. Put on dollup of dough on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes or until golden brown.

Frosting (the key to what makes these cookies so damn amazing)
1 and a 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 tbls. butter (softened)
1 tsp. vanilla
little milk
1/2 tsp. lemon juice
food coloring - red and green

Mix powder sugar, vanilla, 1/2 tsp. lemon juice, and a (very little) milk to soften. Mix together. Split frosting in half and add food coloring. Wait for cookies to cool and spread frosting on cookies.

Good luck, fools! Moo ha ha ha....

Your week in sex.
Merry Christmas, fools.

Um....I don't know what to say about this.

I was driving home tonight when this woman sped in front of me, cut me off and started flicking me off and appeared to be shouting at me. I'd fess up if I had cut her off or something, but I honestly didn't do anything to her...other than egg her on and flick her off because SHE had just cut me off. Well, when she saw that, she stopped her car ON THE HIGHWAY, got out of the car and approached me screaming that she's gonna "Beat my ass." I started laughing at her and said, "What are you gonna do? Get back in your car and drive." Well, I think I sent her into orbit because she was trying to get next to me. When I sped up past her, she literally threw something at my car. I called the State Police to report her plate, especially if there was any damage to my car, which luckily there wasn't.

People, I know it's the holidays and you're stressed out, but you need to chill.

I woke up this morning at 7:45, which is the time I'm normally LEAVING for work. Wally the cat was sleeping at my feet, and in my panicked state, I slightly threw him off of me saying, "Oh my god, oh my god...why didn't you WAKE me?" Because, you know, it's ALL HIS FAULT. He's normally in my face in the morning, purring and just being all "I want food." I can't believe I've learned to ignore him completely, proving that, sure, pets are GREAT training for motherhood someday. Kids come with "snooze" options, right?

I did learn that I can get ready in less than 20 minutes. Not well, since I look like pretty gross today, but I did it.

Um, I tried making those same damn cookies today. I went to Crate and Barrel, bought a good, quality, cookie sheet, then I went to the Jewel and purchased all the right ingredients, I paid really close attention to the measurements, and it STILL didn't turn out. This time, I was too fucking pissed to even take a picture. I called my mom and told her I didn't want to talk about the cookies, I didn't want to see any of these cookies when I go home, I don't want to eat one of her perfect Meltaway cookies, and then I blamed the oven for the mishaps. I'm the poster child for maturity.

You haven't heard the last of me, delicious Meltaways! You hear me?!

So instead of a picture of the 3rd cookie disaster, you're getting pictures of the Dashboard Diva in action. Thanks, Janet!





She sings along to the Pixies with me.

I can't even make this shit up.

The Great Cookie Disaster of 2004....Part Deux.



This time, I used Imperial butter (which I learned is like, vegetable oil spread, basically). In my defense, Imperial's package is totally misleading because it says, "Great for baking!"



I should mail the fine folks at Imperial a box of this shit for Christmas.

Incase you're ever wondering, my favorite Beatles tune is a toss up between "I am the Walrus" and "In my Life."

I know it keeps you up at night.

I just confirmed my New Year's plans with Bob. We're heading to a party my friend is throwing in a loft/warehouse somewhere in the city. My friends think I should go to this party single (not because they don't like Bob, but they think I should try and meet someone new). I'm not too keen on that idea - going to a New Year's party on your own is kinda like going to a wedding single, (which I do all the time) - and it's sucky. I bought a new party dress (I like the lace-blue stars at the bottom), some sassy fishnets, and all I need are some cute 40s-style shoes to wear with it and I'm all set to party like it's 5 years ago.

Could this post BE more girly?

It's official: My mind has officially checked out for the holidays. From now until the new year, I will have the attention span of an ant at work. Mazel Tov!

The company I work for is so weird.

We had an impromptu Christmas party last night at some country club. I didn't know about it until I got to work. It was all hush-hush, because only certain departments were invited, which is super weird. Our chief marketing officer told us that we made our goal for the year and that they're flying us to some location for our 'real' Christmas party after the New Year.

Lincoln, Nebraska, here we come.

I can't get my hopes up too high, you know?

Christmas time is here, and that means Megan doesn't know what to get Bob.

I know what you're thinking. "But Megan, why are you giving your ex a Christmas present?" I don't have a really good answer to that, other than he's a great person, and all around good guy, and is present worthy. So there.

I picked up a couple of video games for his X-box that I got him last year, and other than that I don't know what guys like. Decanter sets say "welcome to retirement, old man." Argh.

In the spirit of dooce.com:

How to Annoy Me:

Be my 88-year-old grandma telling me that she has this new boyfriend of sorts (that she's bringing to Christmas dinner) and pointing out that you, still, do not. Thanks, Grandma. My, you've lived to an old age.

The Great Cookie Disaster of 2004

Started off totally normal.



Mmmm....these cookies are going to be so kick ass.



Wally, stoned on catnip, had the munchies and was patiently waiting.



How did THIS happen? It turned into this gross buttery cake of sorts?



I guess this means I can't frost them and give them to co-workers now, huh?

This ad made Cody and I realize that French people say "oui" during sex.

Perhaps we should start making Volvo care packages for our troops. (thanks to Freakgirl for the link)

I've been watching My Coolest Years on VH1 this week. I don't know what high school these people attended, but high school was far from anyone's coolest years that I knew. The show has reminded me that my 10 year high school reunion is this spring, and I have absolutely no desire to go. Sitting in a room with the pretty Brock twins (not just one, but we had two IDENTICAL prettiest girls in my class) making small talk about where they are today kinda sounds like something I don't give a shit about. My question is, did you attend yours (pipe down class of '96 or above), and if so, were you glad you went? One of my friends REALLY wants to go (she wants to see "who got fat") and is demanding we go.

Walk down memory lane with me, won't you?....

One tramatic experience every girl had to go through was swim class. My high school had UNIFORM swimsuits (meaning, they were used over and over and over through the years - ew) and were color coded based off of your WEIGHT. Red was the small size, black was the big size, and there was a rainbow of colors in between. And they wonder why girls developed eating disorders. Ugh.

Warning: Girlie Update

Some asshole at work (and by asshole, I mean the Internet) brought to my attention that the Arby's Chicken Salad sandwich has 860 calories in it. And that obsession...just died. I will be dining on Lean Cuisines until the end of time.

:: passes out ::

Tales from Work Vol. 634
Apparently, we have a "scratcher" on our hands. As in an inappropriate scratcher. To his credit, he's foreign, so maybe it's normal to scratch yourself in front of people in certain Asian countries. I need to talk to him about his behavior, and I'm not sure how to handle this one. Perhaps I'll go into some great philosophical speech about how beautiful it is that our countries have melded together, but keep your hands out of your pants this side of the International Date Line.

Um, if you live in Chicago, did you know that there was an office fire last night? (note: sarcasm)

For those of you who don't live in Chicago, one floor of an office building was on fire last night and you would've thought the Hindenberg crashed from all the media coverage. Every station covered it all. night. long. If you see riots in Chicago today, that's because The Swan and Monday Night Football weren't on. You could tell that they were hoping someone was going to die, and no body bags were ever brought out. So desperate for ratings, it's killin' me.

I have to figure out how to hook up my TiVo to work on my wireless router, which is also currently out of commission. It took me 9 months to figure out how to set up my TiVo, and I don't see this happening anytime soon, either. I really, really, REALLY just want to pay someone to come over here and figure it out because I think I'd rather go to the gynecologist than sit at home and play with cords all night long.

My head hurts.

Some pics from Jersey. I'm so bummed I'm home.


In Deb's kitchen...apparently doing a boog check.


Punk Rock Hello Kitty...totally strung out.


Me and Deb....drunk.


Janet, Maggie, Me, and Deb...licking my face.

The weekend was exactly what I had hoped it would be - we danced (poorly), we drank (a lot), and I hung out with some fucking fantastic people.

Highlights:
- I met my cosmic twin, Beth, who I'm convinced would be my new girlfriend if either of us were lesbians.
- I made the New Jersey Target Taco Bell worker fall in love with me by telling him his beard was a "party on his face." He later faked organized the trays near the garbage and ask, "How is everything, ladies?" Um, the last time I checked, Target Taco Bell workers didn't give a shit how your food was. And I'd kinda like to keep it that way.
- Getting to spend time with Deb, Randy, Maggie, Jeremy and Janet. I wish you guys lived here.

Flying with a hangover sucks, just incase you were wondering.

i'm in jersey, bitches. And we're drunk posting. And this dude Walter just knocked on Hall and Oates, and I love Hall and Oates. More Hall than Oates. Anyway. Good times. And Naked Eyes is on th edgital cable and meagn doesn't knwo who they are becasue she's 10 years odl. (that was freakgirl)

Anyway. Walter just told me that Hall and Oates performed with the Grateful Dead and performed, "What's Goin' On?" and that makes me very jealous. DAMN YOU WALTER! Oh Wait. Walter says he wasn't htere. Nevermind.

Love, Megan
PS. I love William Shatner's "Common People," for the record.

You know, I used to pride myself on my mad geography skillz. And I've heard stories of people from the East Coast slightly confused on where, say, Indiana is on a map, but I honestly had no idea Newark, NJ, was so close to NYC until I looked out the airplane window. I asked the guy next to me, "Um, is that New York?," to which he (slightly annoyed) said, "Yeah, that's the Empire State Building." I'm sure he was thinking, "Stupid Midwesterner." To which I thought, "Screw you, ass." Put that friendly Midwestern thought in your pipe and smoke it. (Boo yeah, Megs. Boo yeah.)

At any rate, Deb, Randy, Jeremy and Maggie know how to show this country bumpkin a great, great time. The Jersey fumes are giving me this awesome contact high.*

*I kid, I kid. For the record, Deb and Randy live in a really nice part of New Jersey in a very cute neighborhood. The rumors are true. New Jersey is NICE.

This afternoon, I'm heading off to "Joisey" to party with these fools for the weekend. By the end of the weekend, if I lose the ability to pronounce my "r's" properly I won't know if it's because I'm hanging out with these east coast folks or if it's from too much of the nog.