Save As Draft

There was only one egg left in the refridgerator and I was unsure that I wanted to limit my future meal options by wasting it on pancakes.
"Don't worry," I said to the dog. "The eggs are optional, I think." And it was mostly true.
3.21.07

It is the morning after and I am still drinking.
"I don't know that is a good idea." he said to me, trying to take the bottle from my hand.
"Shhhhhh...... I am working." I don't know what I meant at the time, and I know even less now.
3.24.07

I announced to the room, "My name is Megan and I am here for kicks." My declaration was met with silence and I briefly wondered if I had taken the wrong approach to my introduction.
3.25.07


"Her style is similar to that of Lauryn Hill," I stopped for a second, "that is to say if Lauryn Hill were a white, British, Jew who had a bit of a drinking problem."
3.28.07

We sat in her room giggling and talking for hours.
"What would you do if you were dating a guy who you thought was perfect. Gorgeous, well-mannered, thoughtful, honest, faithful, rich, but the catch is he only ever wanted to have anal sex. What would you do?" She asked seriously.
"Frequently?"
She nodded in response.
"I don't know. My rectum is the one thing on my body that I generally try to avoid having things inserted into. That is a tough call. Can I fake it?"
3.30.07

Drafts

Looking back on it, I think I may have been an odd child. Ninth grade gym class required the creation of a dance routine. Why? I am not entirely sure. Born leader that I am, I told my group of four other girls that we would reenact a scene from the motion picture The Full Monty. Of course, we left the nudity to the professionals (which one member of the group would later become).
I followed up my highly successful ninth grade dance routine with my ever memorable Risky Business-themed routine of tenth grade. It involved underwear, dress shirts, socks, and a whole lot of sliding across the wooden gym floor.
2.23.07

"The Canada Revenue Agency is scrambling to fix a computer glitch that is preventing people from filing online tax returns and it could effect you, too." The TV anchorman announced.
"I really don't understand how Canadian tax returns could effect U2," she said.
I paused for a minute, making sure I had heard her right. "Did you really just say that?" I asked.
3.7.07

"I bet you rode the short bus to school, didn't you?" he laughed.
"I did ride the short bus to school. What are you getting at?"
"Are you serious? I was just joking. You really went to school on the special bus?"
"Not the special bus, the mini-bus. My bus driver's name was Prim" I explained.
"Awwwww, muffin."
"I don't understand. What is so funny? For three years, I took the mini-bus to elementary school." By this point in time, I was beyond confused.
"Everyone knows that only the mentally challenged children ride the short bus to school." I narrowed my eyes at him in an effort to show him my contempt.
"My elementary school only had three developmentally challenged children: Amanda, Andrew, and Jessica. They were all in wheelchairs and I used to play with them at recess."
"I'm sure you did."
"I just want you to know that I am going to kill you in your sleep tonight" I told him.
3.9.07

There are surprisingly few things to do as you wait, with your parents, for a tow truck to come pick up your vehicle. My mom spent most of our hour long wait glaring at me when, after voicing her need for a bathroom, I directed her towards an open field.
3.17.07

They just didn't know by what

Today a transport helped me accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Saviour when, upon driving to school with all my windows down, it drove by me, baptizing me with a shower of muddy water. Immediately, I was filled with the holy spirit, or maybe it was disgust. Regardless, every where I went in the school that day, people could tell that I had been touched.

99 Problems

Do you think Jay-Z made a list and counted all of his problems before coming out with the song? And, if so, do you think they were real problems, or just silly things like "I spilled mustard on my favourite pants"?

Drafts

I sat in the bathtub, contemplating my own knees. They are full of scars from the numerous scrapes and cuts they have endured over the years, but they are good knees. They are the only knees I have ever known, of course, so I really have nothing to compare them to.
I am startled out of my reverie when the cat jumps up onto the side of the bathtub and begins lapping up my bathwater. I glare at him and silently pray that he does not slip and fall in.
18/02/07

My parents washing machine sings a song when it has finished each load. So overjoyed with completing its task, it cannot help but play a little tune to celebrate its accomplishments. "Look!" it cries with excitement. "Come look at these clothes that I have just cleaned!"
22/02/07

For a while now I have been the considerate sister. The sister who, upon noticing that half of her new shampoo and conditioner has mysteriously vanished over night, went out and bought a second set of shampoo and conditioner so that the only other person using the shower would not have to "borrow" anymore.
Today that changed. I used my sister's shampoo. And you know what? I am totally going to use it again tomorrow.
25/02/07

"Dakota Fanning," I declared.
"You would cast Dakota Fanning in the role of a male court attorny?" my professor laughed. "What about the second role? The sheriff?"
"Dakota Fanning in both roles," I replied with conviction.
"And what inspired you to cast Dakota Fanning in those roles?"
"She seems to be in almost every movie these days, and I think maybe this play could be her chance to break free of all the stereotypes she is currently being subjected to. She will shatter boundaries and usher in a new age of theatre. It will be glorious."
My new goal in life: talk about Dakota Fanning as often as possible during my English Seminar.
01/03/07

S-M-R-T

When you first think of it, all you can see is how awesome it would be to put every single article of clothing you own on at once. What you don't stop to consider is how hot approximately 45 shirts, 3 sweatshirts, and 14 pairs of pants will be. You also fail to realize that that much clothing will provide you with restricted movement, and thus taking off the items will take more than twice the time it took to put them on.


I have learned many things since my first year of University. However, none of them have been academic.

dog park drama

The dog park always leaves me feeling like a horribly unqualified dog owner. Maybe this is because my dog spends a good twenty minutes of each visit trying to hump the various other dogs that he is engaged in play with. I would not mind the humping if he allowed the other dogs a proper go, but he is highly hypocritical when his turn comes to be on the receiving end.
I spent our time there shouting things at him that made the other dog owners giggle behind my back. "Do you not understand that I am leading by example?" I asked. "I do not hump the other dogs in this park, so you should not hump them either!" I threw a tennis ball in an effort to distract him and, thankfully, it worked. "I do not know what I should do," I confessed to one of the other owners. "He seems to have found something he is good at and is sticking with it. I just don't know that it is the kind of hobby I can lend my support to."
The dog happily returned with the ball in his mouth and dropped it at my feet. Unfortunately, before I could even bend down to pick it up, he was at it again. The brindle boxer, whom my dog was so enthusiastically showing his moves to, stood their proudly, seemingly oblivious to the attention my dog was lavishing upon his back end. "Dog," I pled. "Please!"
"Do not worry," the boxer's owner reassured me, patting my shoulder. "Chev is just too slow. It is really his own fault."
While I appreciate her concern for me, I cannot see how what she says could possibly be the truth. Whenever I have been subjected to unwanted/unwarranted humping, never have I thought "If only I had been faster!"

but i don't think it bothers me

He acts like a baby when he is sick. This is probably why it baffles me that his whiny voice actually triggers my heart to melt just a little.
"I do not know why I am still sick," he tells me. "I have been doing everything right." It takes several minutes before I am able to get him to confess to washing his cold medication down with beer.
"What did you expect?" I sigh. "You are supposed to be drinking lots of fluids."
"But beer is a fluid," he argues.
"Water. You are supposed to be drinking lots of water." His forehead is warm and, despite the sweat that is soaking his sheets, he is shivering.
"I think I am dying," He groans.
"You are not dying," I assure him, running my hand across his back in slow circles. "You are just an idiot. I am going to get you a glass of water."
I shake my head at the disarray of his apartment. It is clear that four other males cohabit the space. As I walk back into his room, I catch sight of the panicked face he is making. Oh, god. There is going to be vomit. He vaults out of the bed and pushes his way past me. The sounds of his retching lets me know that he has made it to the bathroom in time. I take a minute to mentally prepare myself before I join him in an attempt to offer up a little bit of comfort.
There is what appears to be a clean washcloth sitting next to the bathroom sink and I quickly grab it, running it under the cold water before I crouch down next to him and wipe it tenderly across his forehead. "I am going to run you a bath," I tell him. "It is going to feel cold, but that is only because you have a fever." His head is resting against the porcelain of toilet, a brave move in a dwelling where the inhabitants rarely look before they aim, but I think I see him nod.
The bathtub is surprisingly clean and barely requires a wipe down before I start to fill it. His head is now resting on his forearm, on the edge of the toilet, and his eyes are closed. If I didn't know better, I would say he looked peaceful. As the tub finishes filling, I rub his head and tell him that I need him to take off his pants.
"You have been waiting years to say that," he accuses, as he rises to his feet.
"You caught me. I have spent the last seven years just waiting to catch you feverish, wreaking of vomit and completely helpless. Do you need my help, or can you get into the tub on your own?"
He smiles down at me and, without warning, pulls his pajama bottoms down around his ankles. "I better not catch you looking," he warns, stepping into the tub. "My virtue is at stake."
As he lowers himself down, I toss the washcloth at his head. "Cover your virtue with that," I instruct him and I exit the bathroom, in search of a clean towel, before he can respond.
It is another hour before I leave. Rubbing his stomach and tucking him into bed, I lean over his head and reach for the extra pillow that is scrunched up in between his mattress and the wall. "I just saw all the way down your shirt," he giggles.
"Wonderful," I sigh, deciding that he no longer needs an extra pillow. "Call me tomorrow morning so that I know you have not perished during the night." And with that, I leave him.
Sometimes I feel like I've entered into a sexless marriage that I didn't entirely agree to.

pages from my journal

The following are a collection of entries from the journal I have sporadically kept over the years. The sentences appealed to me and may or may not have been taken entirely out of context in their transition from paper to interweb:

I jumped into the pool, fully clothed. It was cold.
1/16/04

Is it bad that I cannot remember his name or what he looked like?
7/02/04

There is something beautiful about the highway at night. Well, at least after you've been smoking pot there is.
12/16/04

If my life were a song, I think it would be something by ABBA. A melody that is chipper and up-beat with lyrics that are surprisingly somber. My life is the music of a 1970s Swedish pop group.
4/28/05

It reminds me of the time, when I was four, that I burnt a hole in my sisters winter coat with a sparkler. Did I want to set her on fire? I am not entirely sure.
12/30/05

note to self: telling strangers about situations that may cause you to lose control of your bowels is not a good way to break the ice.
6/19/06

I miss you most on cold nights. Who will keep my feet warm now?
2/10/07

Almosts

My cat has spent the past fifteen minutes staring at a nondescript spot on the wall. Every few seconds, he cocks his head to the side, as if to further examine the spot at which he stares so intently, and proceeds to swat at it. When swatting has failed, he moves on to scratching. I wish he'd find himself a better hobby.
- 2/5/07

The moon was full and bright in the night's sky, illuminating the dog sitting calmly on the steps. I stood just inside the door, keeping watch over my charge, in awe of the moonlight's beauty. Snow is always at its most beautiful at night.
- 1/31/07

I used to get called to the vice-principals office weekly in high school. "You miss so much school," he would tell me. "Do you know that, on average, students' grades drop 1% for each day they are absent?"
"Clearly this is not true," I laughed. "That would mean that my average would be well above 100%."
"That is the thing," he whined. "You are defying these statistics. Imagine what your marks would be if you stopped missing so much school."
I merely shrugged in response. I have never cared what my marks could be. I merely focus on what they are and how much effort I have to put in to get them where I want them to be.
My high school biology teacher once told me, "You may be able to miss school like this now, but you'll never be able to keep this up in university." I think I have subconsciously made it my mission to prove her wrong.
- 1/24/07

When you receive an e-mail from a close friend that reads as follows:
Yo, are you dead? Where are you? I have called your house so many times I could be qualified a stalker. Don't make me break in there through a window.
Call me.
It makes you realize that you might have been more than slightly neglecting your social duties.
- 1/20/07

Last week I broke the cardinal rule when using a public washroom: I took a dump. Upon entering the washroom, I did a thorough search to ensure that I was alone before proceeding to a stall that was far away from the door. After carefully covering the toilet seat with one-ply, toilet paper that rivaled sand paper, I took a seat and began to move my bowels in ways that should never occur in public.
Upon exiting the stall to wash my hands, I realized that, at some point in time during my bowel movement, someone had joined me in the bathroom. With all my straining and gas, I had lost my ability to multi-task and keep an ear out for the door. Naturally, I washed my hands and took off out of the bathroom at light speed.
- 1/15/07

Animal Cruelty

"It is like killing one bird with two stones," she tells me.
"Wait. Two stones? Why would you use two stones? Are you really that mean?"
"What? Wait, no."
"I mean, the first stone would likely be fatal, so what is the second one for? I think a second stone would just be overkill. You are cruel," I told her.
"But, that's not what I meant!" She cried, "I meant to say 'kill two birds with one stone.'"
"Oh, I see. So now you want to take out a whole family of birds. You are sick. What next? Babies?"

Grab Bag

"I've been having unprotected sex with many strangers as of late" I told him. "I am trying to catch a variety of diseases, as well as accumulate a large pool of potential baby daddies. Not that I would choose to become pregnant by any of them, but so that when I mistakenly do my story will be much more attractive for Jerry Springer or Maury Povich."
- 08/11/06

The cigarette produced a scattering of orange embers as it hit the road. There was something beautifully frightening about the whole thing.
- 28/11/06

At first, I was glad to have my sister back in the country. I'd missed her, sort of, and I'd stopped having those nightmares in which she was eaten by angry camels. Soon after I returned to my parents house, I realized that my sister had left something behind when she returned from Africa. That something was her ability to flush a toilet. I'd initially thought she was just trying to conserve water. I applauded her effort, even though I was more than a little grossed out when the bathroom started to smell like urine. I decided that I would let it slide. After all, it would not kill me to flush the toilet upon entering the bathroom. The next day, however, my sister broke the cardinal rule of water conservation in a shared bathroom. That rule, obviously, being the strictly upheld "If it's brown, flush it down."
- 15/12/06

"I hate guys who are just attracted to me because I am Asian" she told me one night. "It is like they have Asian fever. They think Asian women treat them better and are more submissive." The thought made me laugh. "Submissive" is a word that would never cross my mind in association with her name.
A few weeks later, when my parents' puppy was jumping up excitedly in an effort to lick her, I would tell her that she is the first Asian person he has ever seen. "I think he might have Asian fever" I confessed.
- 17/12/06

"We are having a party" I declared as I burst through the front door. I have found, through experience, that it is better to make bold statements rather than ask permission. "We will celebrate the baby Jesus and I will get tanked in front of close family friends and people that you go to church with." Parents love it when you do that kind of stuff. I anticipated a poor turnout and because of that I made sure we invited a shit load of people. When they all showed up, I was both confused and elated. Did you know that people will bring you presents, even if you do not ask for them, when you throw a Christmas party?
- 22/12/06

Jesus was a sailor

I do not remember my first kiss.
I realized this as I sat in the car next to my friend Nina and listened to her talk about the loss of innocence that comes with aging. "Remember when it wasn't about sex? When there was no pressure? Everything was so much more exciting then. Everything was so much more intense,” she said.
Of course, she was right. Nina is always right.
I tried to remember a time when things were that innocent, and, while I can come up with a few instances now, at the time I could not think of one.
Is it wrong to want to return to that time? Just the idea of holding hands was enough to make your heart pound inside of your chest and threaten to explode. I cannot seem to remember a kiss that was not laced with an ulterior motive. A way to get from point A to point B.
Cosmo told me that if you do not sleep with a guy by the third date he will start to lose interest. While I have never considered Cosmo to be the authority on anything, it terrifies me that this could be true.

Robot Santas and Dildos

The house on Spruce St. is shining like a beacon in the dark. We cannot help but float closer and closer to it. The rumour is that it is lit each year as a tribute to their deceased son, but I have never heard an official story. Their neighbours don't even try to decorate their houses anymore. It seems fitting, somehow, that all the other houses lay in darkness.
People flock around the house, taking pictures of overjoyed children, filled with wonder. A robotic Santa sings songs filled with voyeurism and threats. The children, oblivious, continue to clap their hands in amazement as they dance around him. Hard as I try, there is no disguising my fear of androids. My eyes never leave robot Santa; If he tries something, I will be ready for that robot freak.
Later on, we are walking next to the lake talking about everything and nothing. "It counts if there is oral sex or if someone gets fucked with a dildo,” she says, giving her answer to a question I posed months ago.
"I just always wondered if there was a definite moment when it could no longer be considered fooling around anymore. With heterosexual sex it is pretty well defined. It is fooling around up until the point penetration occurs, but with lesbians there is not necessarily penetration. Could a lesbian, after mistakenly spending the night with a gross looking girl, say 'thank god we only fooled around’, or is there a distinct line for lesbian sex too?"

And I don't even know his name

"Which of these binders is cooler?" He asked me, holding up two elegant looking binders, one in either hand. I studied them both for a minute. One was pure black, with the college insignia on it's upper left corner, while the other had an aged, red leather feel to it.
"It's hard to say," I told him honestly. "They are both very nice."
He nodded his agreement, "I know, it's so hard to choose. Wait, what about this one?" He asked, grabbing another binder out from the shelf. Truth be told, it looked like a cheaper version of the first one, and none of them were spectacular.
"No," I told him, "the red one. The red one is cooler." He slowly put back the cast-offs and then turned around and smiled at me. It was a winning smile. It was the kind of smile that made my heart beat just a little faster and caused the butterflies located in my stomach to start flapping their wings.
"Thank you for your help," he said shyly. "I could never have done it without you."
We both stood there for a minute, smiling at one another, before finally continuing on with our tasks for the day.
Three minutes in the campus shop and I was smitten.
I found it hard to concentrate on my midterm a half hour later. I kept wondering what kind of odds I had at running into him again. I promised myself then and there that I would start spending more time at the school once the new semester began.