Found at the grocery store tonight:



X-TREME WHITE BREAD.

:: PING! ZIP! ZOW! ::

I'm sorry, but unless my white bread does a inverted 720 front flip and lands riding fakie, it's just not X-treme enough for me.

If you don't like Kanye West's "Gold Digger," I'm pretty sure you've got no soul.
Go ahead with yourself, Kanye.

MISTRIAL!

Megan Rejoices, Buys Liters of Gin with Government Earnings

AP Wire - Event Planner/Supermodel, Megan S., better known as "Write On, Megs," was elated when the court case she was serving as a juror on was called as a mistrial. "Fuck you bitches, I'm going home," she was quoted as saying at around noon Tuesday as she grabbed her free goverment sponsored turkey sandwich, potato chips and Diet Rite. Megan, who pleaded with the judge four times to be excused from serving jury duty called the experience, "a fucking colossal waste of time."

It's unknown if Megan had been drinking her government earned gin and juice at the time of interview.

R.J. Daley Center Cook County Court House: Day 1

After sitting for 3 hours, passing the time by sleeping, reading an awful book, and watching The fucking VIEW with Barbara Wawa, my panel was unfortunately called in to go through the jury selection process.

We broke for lunch and then sat through another 5 1/2 painful hours of jury selection. Despite meeting with the judge four times to discuss why I think I should get out of being a juror in the case (I can't really go into why I asked to be excused right now, but hopefully can by end of week), by 6 PM, I was the last juror selected in the civil trial.

Maybe this will make me have a new appreciation for NBC's "Law and Order," BUT I HIGHLY DOUBT IT.

By the way, the case sadly has nothing to do with Bennigans.

Today I was thinking, "Who would like to see real dead human bodies with me....Bob TOTALLY would!," so I called him up and asked him to go to the BodyWorlds exhibit at the Museum of Science & Industry.

Whenever I go out with Bob (which isn't that often anymore) we go on these marathon outings. Like, 11 hour dates. The guy is insane. Whenever I start to think, "We'll probably go home after this," he all of a sudden says things like, "Wanna get ice cream? Wanna go to the park and check out stuff?" Don't get me wrong, I love him for that, but Lord. Megan likes to sit. You wanna sit, Bob?

Bodyworlds ended up being sold out (FUCK), so we did the following during our 11 HOURS together:

1. Went out for lunch at a diner in Hyde Park called Valois where on the awning it says, "See Your Food." I don't know who came up with that slogan, perhaps someone with a vision problem.
2. Checked out the old Glessner Mansion. The place looks like a jail to me. Mr. Kimball who lived across the street was quoted as once saying, "I don't know what I did wrong in this life to have to wake up every morning to look at that." I love it when old, rich, dead people fight!
3. While checking out Marshall Field's old mansion, I came across a massive spider web. Like, Charlotte's Web impressive. I hate spiders more than anything, so I wasn't exactly thrilled when Bob decided to throw a live ant into it to wait and see it come out. You guys. It was so big that even Bob winced when it came out, and I'm pretty sure that Marshall Field himself woke up from the dead from my yelp. Thanks for the nightmares, Bob.
4. We then went to Miller's Pub for a few beers and to watch the Sox game on TV. Ended up having dinner there.
5. After dinner, we went to Millenium Park to check out Cloud Gate (aka "the Bean") and walked around the park for a while.
6. Bob took me to see Shit Fountain located on Augusta and Wolcott in Ukranian Village. I can't believe someone spent money to have this exist and I highly recommend you check it out.
7. Went out for ice cream at Margie's Candies. Had my first soda fountain drink ever. Awww.

The next time I go out with Bob, remind me to get some kid's ADD medication to snort so I can keep up. Good night.

I have Jury Duty on Monday.

I've never done it, so you'd think that I'd be somewhat interested in seeing the process, but in all actuality, I see it has a huge fucking inconvenience. I'm not even a fan of courtroom dramas on TV (mainly for the bad acting that comes along with it), so I highly doubt I'm going to find sitting in a courtroom for 8 hours very interesting. Ugh. I'm squirming sitting here just thinking about having to do it.

I'm a terrible liar, but I better get good at practicing some of these lines to get me out of this and I need suggestions. This is what I've come up with so far:

- Fake a broken English accent and say, "It's guilty until proven innocent in this country, right?"
- "I can tell by looking at him that he's guilty."
- Fake a convulsion and get hauled away to the hospital?

Seriously, help.

Seven of my co-workers and I went to Bennigan's for lunch today to celebrate this dude, KC's, birthday.

Included with the check was a scratch off game ticket, so I rubbed it and found out that we get $5 off our meal. So, the waitress comes back to collect payment and we point out to her that we get $5 off. The waitress says, "Oh, that's only good for your next visit. Did you get this today or did you bring it in?" My co-worker, Kelly, says, "Yeah, we brought this in," and turns to me to confirm, "You brought this in, right?" And I said with an embarrassed and shameful hush, "No...I got it today."

Way to let the team down, Megan.

I can't even fucking lie to a Bennigan's waitress.

My friend, Beth, just started a blog and it's about freakin' time. Way to jump on the fad while it's hot, Beth.

I met Beth while visiting Freakgirl in Jersey last Dec. and I must say...I'm pretty sure Beth and I would be girlfriends if either of us were gay.

I have a girl crush on Beth because she's funny, pretty, drinks lots of wine (is that an attribute?), loves Vince Vaugh and Brett Favre (edit to add: owns her original Atari) and is smart. I threw in "smart" because I'm pretty sure you have to say that when you're throwing compliments around.

...

Har, har. Kidding, Beth.

So check her out - aren't you at least curious who my domestic partner would be? Yes. You are.

You know what fad I really wish would go away?

Gaucho pants. With heels.

Ladies, you don't look so much like Gwen Stefani as you look like you should be serving me up some lamb shanks at the local Brazilian steakhouse.

Thanks for the memories, Lakeview Lounge....

:: cue the Powerpoint presentation of scrolling pictures with "Wind Beneath My Wings" playing softly in the background ::



For those of you who never got the chance to go, there was a stage located right BEHIND the bar which really set this place a notch above every other shit hole dive bar... As you can see, it was "Happy Holidays" all year round at the Lakeview Lounge.



I...love you, Nightwatch. *sniff*



It wasn't really a bar you set out to go to, it was just a bar you somehow ended up in. It attracted all walks of life and I think that's what made this little bar so great. I'll miss it.

Adieu, Lakeview Lounge. Adieu.

Photos thanks to Fuzzy Gerdes' Flickr page.

And the hits just keep on comin'...one of my favorite bars, Lakeview Lounge, has fucking closed. What's going to happen to my favorite Vietnam Vet 3-piece band, Nightwatch? Where am I going to meet and talk to the local ladies of the night? Where am I going to drink Pabst Blue Ribbon out of a can?

Oh, the humanity.

I've had one shit ass ho mutherfucker kind of day.

To top it off, I can't seem to get the theme song of "Diff'rent Strokes" out of my head.

:: cries ::

Tonight while I was inside the 1920's grated elevator in my apartment building, I had to share the ride with someone I didn't recognize. Out of politeness, I asked him what floor he lived on so I could push the button for him and he said, "Three." So we get to three, and he turns to me and I'm pretty sure he mumbled "you sure helped make this ride nasty." I even asked him, "What?" and he said it again.

I was standing with a refridgerator pack of Diet Dr. Pepper in my hand. I'm not exactly where the ride got freaky for him, but thank you, kind sir! Good day!

:: runs inside apartment, locks the dead bolt ::

Ok, someone at work just asked me when my husband, Frank, started working here.

Jesus Christ, people.

My friend, Chris, has been given a shot at taking his show, "Sweet Homes Chicago," for a six-week run (it's kinda like a "Cribs" for Chicago-area celebs) to NBC. If ratings are strong, they have a chance at a bright future with them.

If you live in the Chicago area, please do me (and Chris) a favor and watch or TiVo "Sweet Homes Chicago" on NBC 5 this Wed., Aug. 17th at 11:30 AM. Apparently, TiVo picks up ratings for shows, so even if you're not home, it still counts.

Thanks very much!

Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas has done it again.

I swear, I'm not trying to keep up with this woman's career, but damn. 44 lobsters in 12 minutes? Oh, and it looks like she lost a lb. since Bratwurst Days.

Bitch. ;)

I'm back from Florida (read: Flarida). I can't say that state's name without wanting to sound like an old woman from New Jersey with orange skin and purpleish hair.

I think Wally was slightly tramatized that I left him for an entire day and a half because he is all up in my shit tonight being the little mr. kitty love purr machine. You can tell I've never left him for that long, either, because I left him two huge bowls of food and 3 bowls of water. Should, for any reason, I had not made it back from Flarida (plane crash, hostage situation, gator attack), the cat was prepared.

Tonight, three very good college friends of mine (Laura, Katie, Erin) and I got together for dinner at Jimmy's, followed by coffee at Caffe De Luca in Forest Park.

Our waiter was this REALLY nice (and cute) guy, Frank, that I knew from The Beacon. Frank stopped by our table often and would chat. During one of his visits, I announce that my friend, Katie, actually met her husband at a Cafe de Luca in Bucktown. Five minutes later, Frank comes back and Laura announces, "Actually, Katie met her husband at the Cafe de Luca in Bucktown." And Frank was like, "Really?" and Katie was like, "Yeah, small world, huh?" I sat there, silent, mouth slightly agaped and watched their little conversation go down. Once Frank left, I whispered loudly, "Apparently none of you fuckers (including Frank) were listening to me because I JUST SAID THAT - what am I a Peanuts cartoon character to you? Wa wa wa wa."

Loveable dipshits.

Heading to FL for work for the next couple of days. This might be nice if it was the middle of winter, but they chose Florida in August to have a meeting. Awesome. Mr. Tinkleton is going to kittysit himself, so make sure he doesn't have any wild parties, kay?

Be back Friday, my loves.

Cutest thing I've heard all day:

Walking past this little kid (who couldn't have been much older than 3) yell at me, "What's goin' on?!"

I didn't know if he was asking me a general question or trying to raise social consciousness on the sidewalk.

:: holds fist in the air ::

Fun with Science:

A few years back I learned that a case of soda, if kept in freezing temperatures in say, someone's trunk, will expand and explode. All over the place. Today, I learned that if you keep a fridge pack of soda in your car under extreme heat conditions, those suckers turn into like mini bombs and expand in odd shapes and explode. Why didn't anyone tell me this?

Confidential to the lurker who reads this blog from the Albert Einstein School of Medicine: It is in your best interest to stop reading this blog immediately because as the above demonstrates, you may be becoming more dumb for it. Save yourself.

I don't like to admit it often, but apparently I was wrong on this one. The Bratwurst eating contest in Sheboygan was indeed in full effect this past weekend. Oh yes.



I know what you're thinking. Sign. Me. Up.

Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas from Alexandria, VA, won. You may recognize her from Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest fame. This pint sized 5' 5", 99-lb. tank plowed her way through 35 bratwursts in 10 minutes, winning by a mere margin of 1/2 a brat. One brat has 23 grams of fat, meaning that Sonya consumed 805 grams of fat. And THEN after the contest was done, she ate 2 more.



This is what victory looks like, people.

Tonight, I'm heading up to Sheboygan for a wedding of a friend of mine from high school. As an added "bonus" (loose use of the term), it is also Bratwurst Days this weekend.

I might be the only Sheboyganite that has never attended Bratwurst Days. Call me a snob, but this explanation of why the brat-eating contest has been discontinued pretty much sums up why my parents never allowed me to go as a kid. "Mommy, why's that guy drunk and throwing up?"

I'll raise a stein and a brat in honor of you, dear reader, this weekend. And then promptly keel over from a heart attack.

I was born in 1977.

This means I'm on the cusp between Generation X and Generation Y. I've heard my birth year lands on both sides, but I'm not really sure.

However, this DOES mean that I get to pick the best things from both generations and claim them as my own. X has Alf and 80s music. Y has Britney and currently the best thing Gen Y has to offer, which is Laguna Muthafucking Beach. Generation Xers may scoff, but then let's not bring up plaid flannels and Candlebox.

Many people I've talked to from Generation X do not understand Laguna Beach and think it's awful. I'm currently pet sitting for The Rockers and noticed that their TiVo had TRIPLE thumbs down for the show (I'm going to have to manually change that by the time they get home). I just don't think they understand it. Luckily, I'm here to break it down.

In all it's glory, I give you: Laguna Beach and the Meaning of Life.

Scared of that impending meteor crash? Don't like to go outside? Ever?

From the same people that brought you Superpail 60 lbs. of honey, bring you A Year Supply of Freeze Dried Entrees.

Seriously, who ever buys stuff from that site needs a SuperPail of Paxil and a stiff drink.

(link thanks to mimi smartypants)

I declare it "Weird Product Week" here at "Write On, Megs."

While strolling through the makeup section of my local Osco drug, I noticed this gem.


They really don't beat around the bush what it should be used for, do they?

But seriously, I'm here all week, folks.

Imagine my surprise for a second while driving on I-290 and seeing a billboard for this brand of Polish Sausage. For a second, I wondered what the hell Scott was doing in prison, and then I realized it's PetersEn, not PetersOn.