10/11/2006
Very serious problem
I am at my parents house this week and I have already run out of clean underwear. Where did all the underwear I packed go? I counted each pair I put in, there were ten. And yet, six days into my visit there is no more underwear. This poses a big problem for me because I like to pass my time alone each day, when everyone else is at work or school, dancing in my underwear around the house. How can I dance around in my underwear if there is no more underwear to dance around in?
10/02/2006
Reflections on fisting poultry
As I stuck my gloved hand into the body cavity of the ten pound turkey, I thought to myself 'How did I get here?'
10/01/2006
Sleeping arrangements
The President is lounging across my legs as I type this. I should probably also mention that I am laying down across my bed. While, these days, we seem to be able to share a bed without too many problems, this wasn't always the case. For the first month after I moved into my house, without fail, every night I would awaken to a thump. For the longest time I could not figure out what the source of the thump was. I would look around my room, see nothing out of the ordinary, and fall back to sleep. After a while, it became apparent that I was to blame for the noise. More specifically, the thump was caused when I would move my legs, in my sleep, and knock the President off the bed and onto the floor. It made me laugh, but I also felt a little bad for the poor cat. I would imagine that getting knocked off a bed while you're sleeping is a pretty big piss off. Sometimes I am not even sleeping and I just accidentally fall out of bed (because I am borderline retarded) and that pisses me off. Especially when it happens more than once in the span of half of an hour.
To cut a pointless story slightly shorter, I have yet to determine whether I have become a less active sleeper, or if the President has just learned to beware of my flailing legs (and boy do those legs love to flail). I suspect that it is the former and not the latter. I base this suspicion on the fact that the President, without fail, falls asleep every night laying across my legs.
In other news, Stephen Harper (my pleco, not the Prime Minister of Canada) has died. I feel bad because it took me three days to notice. I just thought he was sleeping... Until I noticed that his eyes had turned white and there was slime forming around his body. That means I only have one fish left, Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note.
To cut a pointless story slightly shorter, I have yet to determine whether I have become a less active sleeper, or if the President has just learned to beware of my flailing legs (and boy do those legs love to flail). I suspect that it is the former and not the latter. I base this suspicion on the fact that the President, without fail, falls asleep every night laying across my legs.
In other news, Stephen Harper (my pleco, not the Prime Minister of Canada) has died. I feel bad because it took me three days to notice. I just thought he was sleeping... Until I noticed that his eyes had turned white and there was slime forming around his body. That means I only have one fish left, Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note.
9/29/2006
Snippets of Life
"Baby puppy!" I yelled, as I barreled in through the door. The fur ball that greeted me was much bigger than the one I remembered leaving a few weeks before. His whole back end was wagging with excitement as he bounded around my feet, alternately licking my toes and the floor. I dropped what I was carrying (read: the cat) and swept up the puppy in my arms. He immediately licked my face, and then proceeded to bite my nose. "Ow!" I exclaimed.
"Love hurts." my mother said, patting my back and taking the puppy from my arms.
September 20th, 10:32 PM
Just once in my life I would like to feel like the center of the universe. I want to feel like nothing I do is wrong.
How did I get here? Where exactly did my life veer off the path I'd always seen ahead of myself. When did I become this person I am today? How did this happen? How did all this happen? Where did all those people go, the ones I was so sure of, the ones I thought would be in my life forever? Where are they now? When did we drift so far apart? When did they become anything less than intrinsic to my existence? When did I become so unsure of things? When did I become so unsure of myself?
September 21st, 1:03 AM
I am the antithesis of sexy. With my nose bright red, and my nostrils glistening with just a hint of snot, I lay across the bed and try to look seductive. A few scented candles are lit, and used tissues are scattered about the room. I am trying to create a certain atmosphere. I call it "the sickly brothel". Just as I am about to speak, I begin to cough so hard that my eyes tear up and I can barely breathe.
"Are you okay?" He asks, moving to my side and smoothing my hair away from my face. I nod, still trying expel a lung from my body, and wave him off. Earlier in the day, I had decided to photograph and catalogue everything that came out of my lungs. I don't tell him that, of course. I don't want to spoil the mood. I make a mental note to break out the camera as soon as he leaves. When my fit subsides, I look deeply into his eyes and proceed to fight for my cause.
"Baby," I sigh. "I'm not that sick. Really." If my words didn't sound so rough and nasally, I might even believe what I was saying.
"You look sick, and you just called me 'Baby'. You are, at the very least, feverish." It's true. I don't do pet names.
"It is so cold." I say, trying a new tactic. "Why don't we get under the covers and try to generate some body heat." I say suggestively, and then add a wink. And that is when I realize that I have sunk to a new low.
September 25th, 10:43 PM
My dog snores. Loudly. I think he may also suffer from sleep apnea. And every so often, just for good measure, he starts barking. All in his sleep. It could be worse, I tell myself. He could be gassy too. But, luckily, the dog seems to save his gas these days for trips to my parents house. The president, on the other hand, totally farted while sleeping on my bed yesterday. I had never heard a cat fart before, and I think it was something that I could have lived the rest of my life without experiencing.
September 28th, 3:52 AM
"Love hurts." my mother said, patting my back and taking the puppy from my arms.
September 20th, 10:32 PM
Just once in my life I would like to feel like the center of the universe. I want to feel like nothing I do is wrong.
How did I get here? Where exactly did my life veer off the path I'd always seen ahead of myself. When did I become this person I am today? How did this happen? How did all this happen? Where did all those people go, the ones I was so sure of, the ones I thought would be in my life forever? Where are they now? When did we drift so far apart? When did they become anything less than intrinsic to my existence? When did I become so unsure of things? When did I become so unsure of myself?
September 21st, 1:03 AM
I am the antithesis of sexy. With my nose bright red, and my nostrils glistening with just a hint of snot, I lay across the bed and try to look seductive. A few scented candles are lit, and used tissues are scattered about the room. I am trying to create a certain atmosphere. I call it "the sickly brothel". Just as I am about to speak, I begin to cough so hard that my eyes tear up and I can barely breathe.
"Are you okay?" He asks, moving to my side and smoothing my hair away from my face. I nod, still trying expel a lung from my body, and wave him off. Earlier in the day, I had decided to photograph and catalogue everything that came out of my lungs. I don't tell him that, of course. I don't want to spoil the mood. I make a mental note to break out the camera as soon as he leaves. When my fit subsides, I look deeply into his eyes and proceed to fight for my cause.
"Baby," I sigh. "I'm not that sick. Really." If my words didn't sound so rough and nasally, I might even believe what I was saying.
"You look sick, and you just called me 'Baby'. You are, at the very least, feverish." It's true. I don't do pet names.
"It is so cold." I say, trying a new tactic. "Why don't we get under the covers and try to generate some body heat." I say suggestively, and then add a wink. And that is when I realize that I have sunk to a new low.
September 25th, 10:43 PM
My dog snores. Loudly. I think he may also suffer from sleep apnea. And every so often, just for good measure, he starts barking. All in his sleep. It could be worse, I tell myself. He could be gassy too. But, luckily, the dog seems to save his gas these days for trips to my parents house. The president, on the other hand, totally farted while sleeping on my bed yesterday. I had never heard a cat fart before, and I think it was something that I could have lived the rest of my life without experiencing.
September 28th, 3:52 AM
9/23/2006
But that's probably just because I am a bad person
I have been blowing my nose non-stop, it would seem. And each time, after I blow my nose, for some inexplicable reason, I look at the tissues to see what exactly has come out of my nose. I've been expecting a small elephant, or, at the very least, a pea or something. I don't recall ever having stuck peas up my nose (or an elephant for that matter), but that doesn't mean someone couldn't have stuck something up there while I was sleeping. I know that I would probably try to stick peas up someone's nose while they were sleeping if peas were readily available to me at that exact moment.
9/20/2006
Things to do on a Monday night
Pelvis thrust out in front of him, we all sat quietly staring at the male pornstar on the television.
"He was married for four years? I feel sorry for his wife." one of us said.
"He has a kid, too. That baby probably walked out of her vagina. She probably sighed with relief and said 'Is that it? I thought it would be bigger.'" someone else joked.
It was 43 minutes of rumination in regards to all things pornographic. And nudity. It was definitely 43 minutes of nudity.
It taught us many new words, such as fucktify, and entertained us with endless amusing, quotable phrases (i.e. "I had porn fever!"). In the days following, we would interject these beautiful quotes into our every day lives.
"Everyone fucks somebody to get ahead in this world." I would tell them. "I just do it on film."
"He was married for four years? I feel sorry for his wife." one of us said.
"He has a kid, too. That baby probably walked out of her vagina. She probably sighed with relief and said 'Is that it? I thought it would be bigger.'" someone else joked.
It was 43 minutes of rumination in regards to all things pornographic. And nudity. It was definitely 43 minutes of nudity.
It taught us many new words, such as fucktify, and entertained us with endless amusing, quotable phrases (i.e. "I had porn fever!"). In the days following, we would interject these beautiful quotes into our every day lives.
"Everyone fucks somebody to get ahead in this world." I would tell them. "I just do it on film."
9/02/2006
Weddings are awesome
The Good Times Fishing and Hunting Club is ripe with the smell of pot. A woman in her late fifties, whom I have never seen before in my life, cries at the indignity of my parents' decision to cut my sister off after she'd fallen up a small set of stairs in her haste to get to the dance floor. "Megan! Megan!" the lady cries. "Megan! I saw that step jump out at her! There was nothing she could have done!" she explains. All I can do is nod in agreement and wonder how she knows my name.
My second cousin looks like he belongs in ZZ Top - only the British version (whatever that means). He sits at our table discussing the complexities of the universe, or maybe he is just talking about nearly forgetting to walk his daughter down the aisle. I am too drunk to pay attention to any one conversation for more than a few minutes. By this point in time I have imbibed enough cheap sparkling wine for three people and show no sign of stopping any time soon. I stare at the centerpiece on the table, a live Siamese Fighting Fish swimming in a small bowl, and silently debate the pros and cons of getting up to go use the washroom.
Suddenly, I am pushed and pulled up the small set of stairs and to a clearing in the middle of the dance floor. My sister stands next to me, bracing one arm against a table to ensure she remains standing. "Everybody be quiet!" Someone yells, "The bride is about to toss her bouquet." Oh. So that is what I am doing here. There are six of us in total, and I am by far the tallest. Before I even have time to blink, let alone move, it is over and my thirteen-year-old cousin has come out the victor, broken arm be damned. I guess I will not get married this year.
"Oh no!" my sister cries. "We are going to be single forever!" And she disappears back down the stairs in search of my parents to break the news to them.
A small chocolate fountain sits proudly in the middle of a small buffet table. Earlier on in the evening, the chocolate had flowed smoothly from one tier to another. Now it falls in giant glops, when it decides to fall at all. My parents must notice this too because they suddenly decide that it is time to pack us all up and take us home. Before leaving, we all scoop up a fish-centerpiece to take home with us.
Later on, in the car, we are all yelling. "Coco Chanel is a girl's name!" my sister exclaims. "You cannot name your fish Coco Chanel because he is a boy."
"I do not let stereotypical gender roles dictate my life, nor the life of Coco Chanel. Coco Chanel is free to be who he wants to be and free to love whoever he wants to love. I will not let a group of elderly, sexually repressed people decide what is right or wrong for Coco Chanel. Do you hear that Coco Chanel?" I slur, tapping the glass vase in which my prized fish swims, oblivious to the battle taking place outside of his few inches of water.
I wake-up this morning and briefly wonder why there is a fish bowl sitting on top of my dresser. It only takes me a few seconds before I remember the events of the night before. I smile at Coco Channel and tell him that we will be life long friends before I make my way out of my bedroom to start my day.
My second cousin looks like he belongs in ZZ Top - only the British version (whatever that means). He sits at our table discussing the complexities of the universe, or maybe he is just talking about nearly forgetting to walk his daughter down the aisle. I am too drunk to pay attention to any one conversation for more than a few minutes. By this point in time I have imbibed enough cheap sparkling wine for three people and show no sign of stopping any time soon. I stare at the centerpiece on the table, a live Siamese Fighting Fish swimming in a small bowl, and silently debate the pros and cons of getting up to go use the washroom.
Suddenly, I am pushed and pulled up the small set of stairs and to a clearing in the middle of the dance floor. My sister stands next to me, bracing one arm against a table to ensure she remains standing. "Everybody be quiet!" Someone yells, "The bride is about to toss her bouquet." Oh. So that is what I am doing here. There are six of us in total, and I am by far the tallest. Before I even have time to blink, let alone move, it is over and my thirteen-year-old cousin has come out the victor, broken arm be damned. I guess I will not get married this year.
"Oh no!" my sister cries. "We are going to be single forever!" And she disappears back down the stairs in search of my parents to break the news to them.
A small chocolate fountain sits proudly in the middle of a small buffet table. Earlier on in the evening, the chocolate had flowed smoothly from one tier to another. Now it falls in giant glops, when it decides to fall at all. My parents must notice this too because they suddenly decide that it is time to pack us all up and take us home. Before leaving, we all scoop up a fish-centerpiece to take home with us.
Later on, in the car, we are all yelling. "Coco Chanel is a girl's name!" my sister exclaims. "You cannot name your fish Coco Chanel because he is a boy."
"I do not let stereotypical gender roles dictate my life, nor the life of Coco Chanel. Coco Chanel is free to be who he wants to be and free to love whoever he wants to love. I will not let a group of elderly, sexually repressed people decide what is right or wrong for Coco Chanel. Do you hear that Coco Chanel?" I slur, tapping the glass vase in which my prized fish swims, oblivious to the battle taking place outside of his few inches of water.
I wake-up this morning and briefly wonder why there is a fish bowl sitting on top of my dresser. It only takes me a few seconds before I remember the events of the night before. I smile at Coco Channel and tell him that we will be life long friends before I make my way out of my bedroom to start my day.
9/01/2006
I love you too
There are few times in your life when the magnitude of a friendship is given the opportunity to overwhelm you. I’ve experienced three in my life. A shoulder to cry on in a time of crisis, a surprise I never saw coming, and this, an email:
It may seem unimportant, silly even, hardly life changing. It is though. It is the small things that are most meaningful, not the grand gestures or the grand declarations. It’s the things that we realize we’ve taken for granted all along when they’re suddenly not there anymore.
I’ve taken you granted before, and I will surely take you for granted again, but I want you to know that right now I know exactly how lucky I am to have you in my life. Especially because of your false promises to perform oral sex on me even if I don’t help you move.
Hi meegan,
Im just wondering if your free tomorrow(Friday), and if you are im wondering if you would like to help me move?
Let me know either way, if its a yes, ill give you head and if's its a no, you still get head but i may or may not try.
Talk to you later,
Rob
It may seem unimportant, silly even, hardly life changing. It is though. It is the small things that are most meaningful, not the grand gestures or the grand declarations. It’s the things that we realize we’ve taken for granted all along when they’re suddenly not there anymore.
I’ve taken you granted before, and I will surely take you for granted again, but I want you to know that right now I know exactly how lucky I am to have you in my life. Especially because of your false promises to perform oral sex on me even if I don’t help you move.
8/15/2006
8/14/2006
Delusional
I know that it's a ridiculous thought, but sometimes when the dog is barking, and I am yelling at him to stop, I worry that maybe it is like in 101 Dalmations and he has an important message to convey to the other dogs. And to be honest, I really wouldn't mind if 99 puppies came to crash in my backyard.
8/12/2006
It's not junk anymore!
Late at night, when I'm bored and trying to be quiet, I reply to junk mail.
Replying to spam both gives me something to occupy my time, and allows me to pretend (for a few minutes at least) that I receive hundreds of e-mails a day from people who want nothing but to help me or do me. So many people seem to be concerned about my financial situation, and some merely want to ask questions about my social life. Gail wanted to ensure I am happy, or at least that is what I gathered as she gave me several price listings for various anti-depressants. Some e-mails just keep rubbing it in that I was born a girl and thus cannot write my name in the snow while urinating (at least not with ease).
Dear Kevin,
Good day to you, too!
I actually have been thinking about going on vacation, getting a new car, AND that new TV and computer that I've been thinking about (but couldn't because I cannot make ends meet and those obligations are piling up), thank you for asking. I appreciate you saying that you can get my life back on track, but I feel, at this point in time, that my life is generally where I would like it to be. I am a student, with a mortgage, nobody expects me to have money. But thanks anyway, and might I suggest that you spell-check your spam?
Love,
Megan
Replying to spam both gives me something to occupy my time, and allows me to pretend (for a few minutes at least) that I receive hundreds of e-mails a day from people who want nothing but to help me or do me. So many people seem to be concerned about my financial situation, and some merely want to ask questions about my social life. Gail wanted to ensure I am happy, or at least that is what I gathered as she gave me several price listings for various anti-depressants. Some e-mails just keep rubbing it in that I was born a girl and thus cannot write my name in the snow while urinating (at least not with ease).
Dear Beck,
Let me start this e-mail by saying that I think you are slightly confused. While I appreciate the trouble you have taken to put together an e-mail with so much information about erectile difficulties and having a "stronger ejaculation", I feel I should probably tell you that it is physically impossible for me sustain an erection (unless by erection you mean building) as I do not actually have a penis of my own. And while I am sure having a stronger ejaculation would be lovely, unless you are referring to female ejaculation, I fear that I am incapable of that as well.
Again, thank you for all the trouble you have gone through and if I do meet a man who would like better erections and stronger ejaculations I will be sure to send him to the website address you so helpfully gave to me.
Have a wonderful day,
Megan
8/07/2006
Now I only need a fish pond
My sister gets belligerent when she is drunk. I get overly ambitious.
"Come with me!" I shouted to my brother. "We must find rocks!"
"For what?" He asked, as he pried his body reluctantly away from its resting place on my leather couch.
"My pond." I sighed, exasperated.
"But you do not have a pond."
"Exactly. That is why I need the rocks," I yelled behind me as I made my way out the front door, the screen door producing a loud SMACK as it shut behind me. I bounded around the side of the house and down a small hill towards a fenced off area where the corporation that is the city was digging up the same bridge it had been digging up all summer. I looked around, in the moonlight, for anything that sparkled. I needed sparkly rocks for my pond.
"So what are we doing?" my brother asked when he finally caught up.
"We are finding rocks," I told him.
"I gathered that much, but are we looking for just any rocks or a specific kind of rock?"
I took a long, slow sip of my margarita (p.s. I brought a glass full of my favorite tequila infused drink with me) and deliberated his question.
"Yes. We are looking for granite," I replied. "Basically, any rocks you see that sparkle are granite. I am just looking for the ones that sparkle the most."
Thirty minutes and fifty ridiculously heavy stones later, my brother and I were finished seeking retribution for the extra gas money the city had cost me with the detour the non-existent bridge forced me to take. The fruition of our labour now lay in a giant pile in front of my house, sparkling in the twilight for all the world to see.. but hopefully not the city workers who will be doing more construction first thing tomorrow morning.
"Come with me!" I shouted to my brother. "We must find rocks!"
"For what?" He asked, as he pried his body reluctantly away from its resting place on my leather couch.
"My pond." I sighed, exasperated.
"But you do not have a pond."
"Exactly. That is why I need the rocks," I yelled behind me as I made my way out the front door, the screen door producing a loud SMACK as it shut behind me. I bounded around the side of the house and down a small hill towards a fenced off area where the corporation that is the city was digging up the same bridge it had been digging up all summer. I looked around, in the moonlight, for anything that sparkled. I needed sparkly rocks for my pond.
"So what are we doing?" my brother asked when he finally caught up.
"We are finding rocks," I told him.
"I gathered that much, but are we looking for just any rocks or a specific kind of rock?"
I took a long, slow sip of my margarita (p.s. I brought a glass full of my favorite tequila infused drink with me) and deliberated his question.
"Yes. We are looking for granite," I replied. "Basically, any rocks you see that sparkle are granite. I am just looking for the ones that sparkle the most."
Thirty minutes and fifty ridiculously heavy stones later, my brother and I were finished seeking retribution for the extra gas money the city had cost me with the detour the non-existent bridge forced me to take. The fruition of our labour now lay in a giant pile in front of my house, sparkling in the twilight for all the world to see.. but hopefully not the city workers who will be doing more construction first thing tomorrow morning.
8/05/2006
Sometimes I call her "mini-me"
She informed me, with a less than thrilled look on her face, that in the middle of her pap smear, the doctor had paused to ask her how I was doing.
"Are you mostly upset because this isn't the first time someone has asked you that when they've been in the vicinity of your cooter?" I asked her.
"Wow, you are so funny." she said flatly. "I just thought that there were more appropriate times for him to ask how you are doing."
"So you are telling me that, generally, you do not like it when people are touching your reproductive areas and thinking of me?" I questioned.
"Yes. That is what I am saying." she said, as she narrowed her eyes at me.
"It is not my fault that this keeps happening to you. I will try not to be so lovable. It is not my fault that I have the face of an angel." I paused. "So did anything else eventful happen at your physical?" I wondered aloud.
"Yes!" She beamed. "We determined that I am actually 5'3", not 5'2" like I had thought."
"That means nothing coming from the same doctor who told me that he would allow me to shrink a 1/4 of an inch so that I could be 5'11" and 1/2 instead of 5'11" and 3/4."
"You are raining on my parade." she said.
"You should have brought an umbrella." I told her.
"Are you mostly upset because this isn't the first time someone has asked you that when they've been in the vicinity of your cooter?" I asked her.
"Wow, you are so funny." she said flatly. "I just thought that there were more appropriate times for him to ask how you are doing."
"So you are telling me that, generally, you do not like it when people are touching your reproductive areas and thinking of me?" I questioned.
"Yes. That is what I am saying." she said, as she narrowed her eyes at me.
"It is not my fault that this keeps happening to you. I will try not to be so lovable. It is not my fault that I have the face of an angel." I paused. "So did anything else eventful happen at your physical?" I wondered aloud.
"Yes!" She beamed. "We determined that I am actually 5'3", not 5'2" like I had thought."
"That means nothing coming from the same doctor who told me that he would allow me to shrink a 1/4 of an inch so that I could be 5'11" and 1/2 instead of 5'11" and 3/4."
"You are raining on my parade." she said.
"You should have brought an umbrella." I told her.
8/02/2006
It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it.
I've spent the past three hours at my fathers office and have officially taken care of the ass photocopying/breast photocopying/face photocopying requirements of the company for the week. I've also taken care of the required in-office dancing, as well as Frisbee playing. And just so that no one could say that I wasn't really working, I sat down in my father's swivel chair and spun around for a couple of minutes.
8/01/2006
Note to Self: Koalas are slutty
Did you know that animals could get the clap? I am going to assume you didn't because I somehow doubt that animals with chlamydia come up too frequently in everyday conversation (for most people). I, however, am going to start talking about std infected animals all the time from now on.
So how did I find out animals can get chlamydia? The answer is simple: One gave it to me. No, I'm just kidding, partly. It is just one of the many wonderful things that Animal Planet has taught me. My three favorite television stations ever are The Learning Channel, The Discovery Channel, and Animal Planet. I think the world is a better place because they exist, and because they have shows about puppies and babies.
And assuming you clicked on the above hyperlink, how much would it suck to be the model they used on the cdc's chlamydia page? It certainly wouldn't make your social life thrive, one would think.
So how did I find out animals can get chlamydia? The answer is simple: One gave it to me. No, I'm just kidding, partly. It is just one of the many wonderful things that Animal Planet has taught me. My three favorite television stations ever are The Learning Channel, The Discovery Channel, and Animal Planet. I think the world is a better place because they exist, and because they have shows about puppies and babies.
And assuming you clicked on the above hyperlink, how much would it suck to be the model they used on the cdc's chlamydia page? It certainly wouldn't make your social life thrive, one would think.
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