My sister chooses her vacation destinations based on where she stands the highest chance of being mugged, raped, or murdered. It is like these countries have created an ad campaign that is meant to appeal to her and her alone.
Are you a petite, blonde girl with little to no money, traveling alone? Come visit us! Our country is ripe with political unrest, our crime rate is high, and we place little to no value on women!
I do not understand this attraction she has to countries in the midst of turmoil and conflict. Equally, I do not understand the attraction she has to men who are fifteen to twenty years older than her and are unable to handle their own finances.
2/23/2008
Draft(s)
Your continued existence annoys me, which only causes me further aggravation because I am then forced to acknowledge what an incredible prick I am for being annoyed by someone's existence.
I do not understand it, but the idea of you fills me with anger. Anger. Can you believe that? I never thought myself to be an angry person, but clearly I was mistaken.
- 27/01/08
I filled my sisters car with snow.
No.
Wait.
That's slightly misleading. I did not actually fill the car with snow, but I did place a great deal of snow inside of the car.
- 07/02/08
"I've heard that Ikea is a great place for a first date," the man standing next to me in the grocery store aisle declared.
On my knees, perusing the display of various powdered sauce mixes, I glanced in the direction of the voice in an attempt to determine who the man was speaking to. After awkwardly meeting his gaze, it became apparent that he was talking to me. Having never found myself in this situation in the past, I briefly scrutinized the stranger, deciding if this was an interaction I felt like having. In the end, I realized it was not.
"I am buying an economy sized pack of super absorbent tampons. Think about that for a minute and then tell me if you think right now is a good time to ask me to go anywhere with you."
- 12/02/08
"Your sister came in here this morning and shit all over my face," my mother told me.
"Pardon me?"
"Emotionally," she clarified.
"Mom, that is the worst analogy I have ever heard," I informed her.
Ever since then, my brother and I have let nary a sentence pass through our lips without inserting "shit on my face" somewhere in there.
- 15/02/08
Yesterday my little brother informed me that my vagina is a cavernous black hole. The only thing I could think of to say in response is that, to my knowledge, a black hole cannot be cavernous.
- 17/02/08
I get a perverse sense of satisfaction out of cursing in front of my mother. So much so that I actually frequently drop the f-bomb in situations where I otherwise wouldn't merely because we are in the same room.
"What the fuck is this?" I ask her, holding up a new can opener.
She has recently taken to entirely ignoring the invectives I let loose, which has only inspired me to try harder for a reaction.
- 19/02/08
I love the way my dog smells, which is gross because my dog smells terrible.
- 22/02/08
"I've never touched myself while talking on the phone with you - until now," I joked.
"Oh baby, you really know how to start my engine," she said, in a monotone, clearly excited by my confession.
"But seriously, I can't talk to people on the phone unless I am almost entirely dressed. I think I've done it without a shirt before, but I always felt incredibly uncomfortable. The internet is a different story though. I talk to people naked on that all the time, especially when I am moisturizing."
- 23/02/08
I do not understand it, but the idea of you fills me with anger. Anger. Can you believe that? I never thought myself to be an angry person, but clearly I was mistaken.
- 27/01/08
I filled my sisters car with snow.
No.
Wait.
That's slightly misleading. I did not actually fill the car with snow, but I did place a great deal of snow inside of the car.
- 07/02/08
"I've heard that Ikea is a great place for a first date," the man standing next to me in the grocery store aisle declared.
On my knees, perusing the display of various powdered sauce mixes, I glanced in the direction of the voice in an attempt to determine who the man was speaking to. After awkwardly meeting his gaze, it became apparent that he was talking to me. Having never found myself in this situation in the past, I briefly scrutinized the stranger, deciding if this was an interaction I felt like having. In the end, I realized it was not.
"I am buying an economy sized pack of super absorbent tampons. Think about that for a minute and then tell me if you think right now is a good time to ask me to go anywhere with you."
- 12/02/08
"Your sister came in here this morning and shit all over my face," my mother told me.
"Pardon me?"
"Emotionally," she clarified.
"Mom, that is the worst analogy I have ever heard," I informed her.
Ever since then, my brother and I have let nary a sentence pass through our lips without inserting "shit on my face" somewhere in there.
- 15/02/08
Yesterday my little brother informed me that my vagina is a cavernous black hole. The only thing I could think of to say in response is that, to my knowledge, a black hole cannot be cavernous.
- 17/02/08
I get a perverse sense of satisfaction out of cursing in front of my mother. So much so that I actually frequently drop the f-bomb in situations where I otherwise wouldn't merely because we are in the same room.
"What the fuck is this?" I ask her, holding up a new can opener.
She has recently taken to entirely ignoring the invectives I let loose, which has only inspired me to try harder for a reaction.
- 19/02/08
I love the way my dog smells, which is gross because my dog smells terrible.
- 22/02/08
"I've never touched myself while talking on the phone with you - until now," I joked.
"Oh baby, you really know how to start my engine," she said, in a monotone, clearly excited by my confession.
"But seriously, I can't talk to people on the phone unless I am almost entirely dressed. I think I've done it without a shirt before, but I always felt incredibly uncomfortable. The internet is a different story though. I talk to people naked on that all the time, especially when I am moisturizing."
- 23/02/08
2/21/2008
Unsupportive family members
My brother will not let me ride shotgun in his car anymore.
"It creeps me out when you lower the window and get ready to pull down your pants so you can moon strangers," he says, as if it's a justifiable reason. He also consistently engages the power window locks so that I am unable to yell things to pedestrians as we pass by.
"I do not understand," I tell him, "I let you moon people from my car."
"When have I mooned anyone? Ever?" He asks.
"It's not my fault that you do not grab hold of the opportunity. The point is that I would support you in your choice, not eliminate your ability to put the window down."
"It creeps me out when you lower the window and get ready to pull down your pants so you can moon strangers," he says, as if it's a justifiable reason. He also consistently engages the power window locks so that I am unable to yell things to pedestrians as we pass by.
"I do not understand," I tell him, "I let you moon people from my car."
"When have I mooned anyone? Ever?" He asks.
"It's not my fault that you do not grab hold of the opportunity. The point is that I would support you in your choice, not eliminate your ability to put the window down."
2/20/2008
Later, she would ask me what flavour of polish I wanted: Orange, Bubble gum, or Raspberry. I chose raspberry.
I spent the afternoon at my dentist's office. Not because I underwent any sort of lengthy procedure, rather because I simply enjoy spending time with dental hygienists. I had two separate dental appointments scheduled; one for my chipped tooth, and the other for my six month cleaning. As it turned out, the chip out of my bicuspid was entirely superficial and only required a minimal amount of grinding to smooth out its surface. The only painful part of the entire ordeal was the lecture I received from my dentist.
"This is all for you," I told him. "I felt like we weren't spending enough time together, so I took matters into my own hands. You should be thanking me. I only do these things to ensure the continued financial success of your practice." My dentist enjoys giving me fatherly lectures. This could be because he has been my dentist since I cut my first tooth, or perhaps because he has known my mother since his birth and thus feels that we are family.
I waited for over an hour between my two appointments, primarily because they had anticipated a more lengthy procedure to repair my chipped tooth. In that time, I decided to read The Last Temptation of Christ. It had been on the assigned reading list for a class I took three and a half years ago, and I felt like it was finally time that I got around to reading it. I cleared the first four chapters before I was called upon to have my teeth cleaned. For some reason the dental hygienist felt the need to apologize profusely for my wait time. "It is fine," I assured her, "it does not hurt me to wait and my appointments were scheduled an hour and ten minutes apart so I suspected that I might have to wait in between them."
Every time I go in to have my teeth cleaned I am asked by the dental hygienist what is new. I would have an easier time answering this question if I had the same dental hygienist each time I went to the dentist's office. Instead, I am left to wonder exactly how much information I should disclose. If it is a new dental hygienist, most everything in my life is new - though I somehow doubt she would be interested to learn that I once dislocated my wrist in an intense water-wing accident. I decided that it was probably best to merely give a summary of what has occurred in my life since my last visit to the dentist. For all I know, the dental hygienists could actually be taking down notes about the going-ons of my life rather than writing about the condition of my teeth each time they add something new to my chart. How embarrassing would it be if I repeated a story that had already been noted? Answer: very.
"I graduated from University, sold my house, moved back in with my parents, bought a new car, and was accepted everywhere I applied for post-degree work. As expected, my parents are thrilled about it all, especially to have me return home after living on my own for two and a half years."
"It is to be expected," my dental hygienist told me, "you are part of the boomerang generation."
I nodded my head, which was all I could do as several dental instruments were in my mouth at the time, glad that she understood my plight.
"This is all for you," I told him. "I felt like we weren't spending enough time together, so I took matters into my own hands. You should be thanking me. I only do these things to ensure the continued financial success of your practice." My dentist enjoys giving me fatherly lectures. This could be because he has been my dentist since I cut my first tooth, or perhaps because he has known my mother since his birth and thus feels that we are family.
I waited for over an hour between my two appointments, primarily because they had anticipated a more lengthy procedure to repair my chipped tooth. In that time, I decided to read The Last Temptation of Christ. It had been on the assigned reading list for a class I took three and a half years ago, and I felt like it was finally time that I got around to reading it. I cleared the first four chapters before I was called upon to have my teeth cleaned. For some reason the dental hygienist felt the need to apologize profusely for my wait time. "It is fine," I assured her, "it does not hurt me to wait and my appointments were scheduled an hour and ten minutes apart so I suspected that I might have to wait in between them."
Every time I go in to have my teeth cleaned I am asked by the dental hygienist what is new. I would have an easier time answering this question if I had the same dental hygienist each time I went to the dentist's office. Instead, I am left to wonder exactly how much information I should disclose. If it is a new dental hygienist, most everything in my life is new - though I somehow doubt she would be interested to learn that I once dislocated my wrist in an intense water-wing accident. I decided that it was probably best to merely give a summary of what has occurred in my life since my last visit to the dentist. For all I know, the dental hygienists could actually be taking down notes about the going-ons of my life rather than writing about the condition of my teeth each time they add something new to my chart. How embarrassing would it be if I repeated a story that had already been noted? Answer: very.
"I graduated from University, sold my house, moved back in with my parents, bought a new car, and was accepted everywhere I applied for post-degree work. As expected, my parents are thrilled about it all, especially to have me return home after living on my own for two and a half years."
"It is to be expected," my dental hygienist told me, "you are part of the boomerang generation."
I nodded my head, which was all I could do as several dental instruments were in my mouth at the time, glad that she understood my plight.
2/09/2008
Word(s)
It only took me six months, but I have finally managed to put all of my magnetic poetry up on my bedroom wall(s).
In my defense, for many of those six months my walls were not actually magnetic....
2/08/2008
I know I would feel honoured if someone went commando at my funeral...
My great-uncle Norm was an alcoholic, which really isn't all that surprising because most everyone in my family is an alcoholic. He was the identical twin brother of my paternal grandfather and, in the years that followed the death of my grandparents, we spent an increased amount of time together.
Sometimes I feel like I used him.
He was so much like my grandfather.
Sometimes I feel like I used him.
He was so much like my grandfather.
His smile. His laugh. The way he smelled.
I don't think I appreciated him enough for who he was. For months he functioned as a surrogate. He was a substitute, and I used him as a security blanket.
They were such different people, but if I squinted my eyes just a little I could pretend that I had gone back in time and life was just a little easier to bear.
At Thanksgiving, three years ago, he'd made a comment I'd deemed overly melodramatic. He professed his desire to see me one last time before he was "pushing up daisies." I'd laughed then and assured him he would. I'd hugged him, in that very same hallway where I'd last hugged his brother, and made him a promise: "You will see me again." What else was I supposed to say?
I don't think I appreciated him enough for who he was. For months he functioned as a surrogate. He was a substitute, and I used him as a security blanket.
They were such different people, but if I squinted my eyes just a little I could pretend that I had gone back in time and life was just a little easier to bear.
At Thanksgiving, three years ago, he'd made a comment I'd deemed overly melodramatic. He professed his desire to see me one last time before he was "pushing up daisies." I'd laughed then and assured him he would. I'd hugged him, in that very same hallway where I'd last hugged his brother, and made him a promise: "You will see me again." What else was I supposed to say?
A week later his health began to fail. I drove back to Burlington from North Bay, showered, and got ready to accompany my parents on a trip to the hospital with the intention of saying goodbye. I was tying my shoelace when I realized that I couldn't do it. I couldn't say goodbye to him; I didn't know how. And so I broke my promise and, even though my parents assured me that he hadn't been lucid and it was ultimately for the best, I have had a guilty conscience ever since.
Later, days after his death, family members would recount his final days. "He had a picture of Jim sitting on the shelf across from his bed. The hospital staff did not know that he had been a twin. Instead, they'd assumed he was just an eccentric, slightly vain, old man."
I did not cry at his funeral. In fact, I laughed. I'd run out of underwear the day before and had been forced to attend the function commando. That, paired with the fact that my skirt turned out to be much shorter than I'd remembered it being, had lead me to seek out the assistance of my mother to ensure that I did not show an entire church full of mourners my girlie bits.
"Do not worry Megan," my father had said, "I think Norm would have felt honoured."
Later, days after his death, family members would recount his final days. "He had a picture of Jim sitting on the shelf across from his bed. The hospital staff did not know that he had been a twin. Instead, they'd assumed he was just an eccentric, slightly vain, old man."
I did not cry at his funeral. In fact, I laughed. I'd run out of underwear the day before and had been forced to attend the function commando. That, paired with the fact that my skirt turned out to be much shorter than I'd remembered it being, had lead me to seek out the assistance of my mother to ensure that I did not show an entire church full of mourners my girlie bits.
"Do not worry Megan," my father had said, "I think Norm would have felt honoured."
2/05/2008
Reflections on Elephants
When I used to work at the Safari, the elephants would come by twice a day, every day, to indulge in a relatively quick frolic in a lake that conveniently had many places from which tourists could take their pictures.
Each time the elephants would head out from their barn I would receive a phone call from the gate house telling me to instruct customers not to pull their vehicles through the front gate because the elephants were crossing in front of it.
I can't recall having ever passed on this message in full. Truth be told, I kind of felt that if the customers were stupid enough to pull forward when a train of eight elephants was walking right in front of their car they kind of had it coming anyway. I mean, honestly, if you don't already know without me telling you that a thousand pound animal is likely to pose as an obstacle for your vehicle, I am not sure there is much I can really do for you.
Each time the elephants would head out from their barn I would receive a phone call from the gate house telling me to instruct customers not to pull their vehicles through the front gate because the elephants were crossing in front of it.
I can't recall having ever passed on this message in full. Truth be told, I kind of felt that if the customers were stupid enough to pull forward when a train of eight elephants was walking right in front of their car they kind of had it coming anyway. I mean, honestly, if you don't already know without me telling you that a thousand pound animal is likely to pose as an obstacle for your vehicle, I am not sure there is much I can really do for you.
1/29/2008
The big Five-O(prah)
Fifty years ago today my father was born.
Coincidentally, fifty-four years ago today Oprah was born.
For obvious reasons, both of these people have contributed to my life in very significant ways: my father genetically and Oprah - well, how does Oprah not contribute to my life?
Oddly enough, for some reason my father is never quite as amused as I am when I instruct the cake decorators to write "Happy Birthday Oprah" on his birthday cakes.
Coincidentally, fifty-four years ago today Oprah was born.
For obvious reasons, both of these people have contributed to my life in very significant ways: my father genetically and Oprah - well, how does Oprah not contribute to my life?
Oddly enough, for some reason my father is never quite as amused as I am when I instruct the cake decorators to write "Happy Birthday Oprah" on his birthday cakes.
1/26/2008
Post(s)
My brother keeps stealing my socks.
I purchased the socks in question (of the tube variety) from Walmart approximately two years ago. They came in a pack of twelve and cost me under six dollars.
I have caught him wearing them several times and confronted him about it. "I didn't realize they were yours!" he exclaims each time.
Fair enough, maybe he did not know they were my socks, but at the very least he knew they were not his socks.
What makes matters worse is that he has hulk-like calf muscles that stretch out the top of the socks, causing them to lose elasticity and bunch around my ankles if I attempt to wear a pair that he has come in contact with.
- 1/25/08
"It is important that I start to spend more time with your wife," I told Matthew one Saturday morning. "She needs to get to know me better before the baby is born so that she will be comfortable with me holding it," I explained.
Other people in the room immediately piped up, volunteering themselves for babysitting duty once the tiny person finally arrived. I waited until they had all finished listing off the reasons why they would be the ideal candidate before finishing my conversation.
"I do not want to babysit your child," I told him honestly. "I want to play with your baby when he is happy and then if he starts to cry or soils himself I would like to hand him off to someone else so that they can deal with him." He laughed and shook his head, knowing that I was entirely serious, and assured me that I would be able to play with his baby in the future.
- 1/20/08
Do you know how long it takes to burn a box of miscellaneous documents?
I do.
Approximately an hour, assuming you dump them all into a giant heap, toss a match on, and poke them with a large stick every so often.
It only took a few minutes for me to realize that burning things had lost all the appeal it had once held for me. As a preteen, my best friend and I were one matchbook shy of pyromaniacs. In fact, one of our adventurous actually cost my best friend the use of her left eyebrow, primarily because her eyebrow hair had been singed off.
- 1/16/08
My brownie leader used to call me pig pen. I am assuming it is because, as a child, I was too energetic to be concerned with things like brushing my hair and ensuring I looked put together.
- 1/08/08
I purchased the socks in question (of the tube variety) from Walmart approximately two years ago. They came in a pack of twelve and cost me under six dollars.
I have caught him wearing them several times and confronted him about it. "I didn't realize they were yours!" he exclaims each time.
Fair enough, maybe he did not know they were my socks, but at the very least he knew they were not his socks.
What makes matters worse is that he has hulk-like calf muscles that stretch out the top of the socks, causing them to lose elasticity and bunch around my ankles if I attempt to wear a pair that he has come in contact with.
- 1/25/08
"It is important that I start to spend more time with your wife," I told Matthew one Saturday morning. "She needs to get to know me better before the baby is born so that she will be comfortable with me holding it," I explained.
Other people in the room immediately piped up, volunteering themselves for babysitting duty once the tiny person finally arrived. I waited until they had all finished listing off the reasons why they would be the ideal candidate before finishing my conversation.
"I do not want to babysit your child," I told him honestly. "I want to play with your baby when he is happy and then if he starts to cry or soils himself I would like to hand him off to someone else so that they can deal with him." He laughed and shook his head, knowing that I was entirely serious, and assured me that I would be able to play with his baby in the future.
- 1/20/08
Do you know how long it takes to burn a box of miscellaneous documents?
I do.
Approximately an hour, assuming you dump them all into a giant heap, toss a match on, and poke them with a large stick every so often.
It only took a few minutes for me to realize that burning things had lost all the appeal it had once held for me. As a preteen, my best friend and I were one matchbook shy of pyromaniacs. In fact, one of our adventurous actually cost my best friend the use of her left eyebrow, primarily because her eyebrow hair had been singed off.
- 1/16/08
My brownie leader used to call me pig pen. I am assuming it is because, as a child, I was too energetic to be concerned with things like brushing my hair and ensuring I looked put together.
- 1/08/08
1/19/2008
For some reason they find my sarcasm and indifference to them endearing
"The boys all have crushes on you," he told me, elbowing me in the side in an attempt to somehow lend credence to his point.
"Dude," I paused, "one told me earlier this morning that I have body odour and another one just finished trying to tell me I have dandruff - neither of which is true, I just went and checked in the bathroom to make sure."
"Which proves my point," he laughed and waggled his eyebrows.
"You think you know every thing because you are married now," I glared at him, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
I had forgotten that there was a five year window in which boys acted like complete douche bags in order to show their affection.
"Dude," I paused, "one told me earlier this morning that I have body odour and another one just finished trying to tell me I have dandruff - neither of which is true, I just went and checked in the bathroom to make sure."
"Which proves my point," he laughed and waggled his eyebrows.
"You think you know every thing because you are married now," I glared at him, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
I had forgotten that there was a five year window in which boys acted like complete douche bags in order to show their affection.
1/13/2008
Holiday Traditions
When I was a child, each Christmas eve my grandfather would take his twelve gauge shotgun down from his gun rack, put on his winter coat and boots, and inform us that he would be spending the rest of the night sitting on top of the roof waiting for Santa Claus. His dedication was impressive, if not slightly disturbing, as he would spend the next several hours banging around on the rooftop in what I can only assume was an attempt to strike fear deep into our hearts.
I do not ever recall having genuinely feared for the life of Kris Kringle, although I do remember fearing for the life of my grandfather.
My grandfather liked to endear himself to us in many ways. He had once taken his dentures out in front of me in an attempt to amuse both myself and my sister. He had held them in his hand and pretended they had taken on a life of their own, making it seem as though the dentures were trying to take a bite out of his forearm.
I was scared shitless.
Not only was my grandfather quite literally falling apart, but it also appeared as though the body parts he shed had some sort of vendetta against him.
It was clear to me that he did not stand a chance against Santa.
1/09/2008
Feminine Issues
- I woke myself from a dream last night when I shouted out, "I do not want an IUD!"
Wow. Okay. Fair enough. I hear you loud and clear, Subconscious, although I have to say that I was never actually considering an IUD to begin with.
- Half the time I only know what day of the week it is because my birth control tells me so. God help me when I reach the little green pills that just say 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, and 28.
- Our conversations usually cover a wide variety of topics and this day was no exception.
"I just do not understand how they could make an actual model of someone's vagina. I would imagine that it would involve pouring some sort of molding gel into the vagina itself, but how would they ensure that the gel filled every nook and cranny? And how would they ensure that nothing got stuck up in there? I tell you what, if I ever do make a model of my vagina I am going to have them recreate it in purple and pink sparkly latex and then I am going to give copies of it out to my friends for Christmas. I won't tell them that it is my vagina though, I will tell them that it is a beer cozy."
Wow. Okay. Fair enough. I hear you loud and clear, Subconscious, although I have to say that I was never actually considering an IUD to begin with.
- Half the time I only know what day of the week it is because my birth control tells me so. God help me when I reach the little green pills that just say 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, and 28.
- Our conversations usually cover a wide variety of topics and this day was no exception.
"I just do not understand how they could make an actual model of someone's vagina. I would imagine that it would involve pouring some sort of molding gel into the vagina itself, but how would they ensure that the gel filled every nook and cranny? And how would they ensure that nothing got stuck up in there? I tell you what, if I ever do make a model of my vagina I am going to have them recreate it in purple and pink sparkly latex and then I am going to give copies of it out to my friends for Christmas. I won't tell them that it is my vagina though, I will tell them that it is a beer cozy."
1/07/2008
Stop salivating over my orange peel
I am sitting at the kitchen table about to peel an orange for my breakfast when my mom walks into the room and sits down next to me.
"Oooooh," she says, staring at my orange. "That would be a good one to zest."
I give her a sideways glance and proceed to scoot my chair a few more inches away from her.
"What?" she questions.
"Nothing," I reply, "you are just kind of creepy."
"Oooooh," she says, staring at my orange. "That would be a good one to zest."
I give her a sideways glance and proceed to scoot my chair a few more inches away from her.
"What?" she questions.
"Nothing," I reply, "you are just kind of creepy."
1/03/2008
It takes more to impress me now, but not much
Bars are always more fun when you are underage.
Actually, most things are more fun when you are underage. Once you have hit the age of majority the thrill is usually gone.
Sometimes we spend hours discussing our glory days. We reminisce about all the things that seemed normal at the time, but that we have since come to realize were extraordinary. It seems as though the bits and pieces that make up my life all belong to different people and this one part belongs primarily to him.
I remember one evening, in the middle of winter, when I drunkenly lamented about the profound sense of loss I felt at not being able to write my name in the snow with my own urine. The bar wench brought pitcher after pitcher of beer to our table for the boys and I spent the evening sampling all the girly drinks the menu had to offer. Just before he packed me into a cab and directed it to my home, he pulled me into an alley and pointed at a snowbank emphatically.
"Look! Look!" he whined.
And so I looked.
There, in urine, my name sparkled in the moonlight. "Megan." it said.
"It is beautiful," I told him, moved far more than I probably should have been, "but why is there a period at the end of my name?" It turned out that, upon finishing with my name, he realized his bladder was far from empty and a period was the only artistic embellishment that he could come up with at the time. It did not matter though. I spent the fifteen minute cab ride home smiling and asking the cab driver if he had ever written a girl's name in the snow.
Actually, most things are more fun when you are underage. Once you have hit the age of majority the thrill is usually gone.
Sometimes we spend hours discussing our glory days. We reminisce about all the things that seemed normal at the time, but that we have since come to realize were extraordinary. It seems as though the bits and pieces that make up my life all belong to different people and this one part belongs primarily to him.
I remember one evening, in the middle of winter, when I drunkenly lamented about the profound sense of loss I felt at not being able to write my name in the snow with my own urine. The bar wench brought pitcher after pitcher of beer to our table for the boys and I spent the evening sampling all the girly drinks the menu had to offer. Just before he packed me into a cab and directed it to my home, he pulled me into an alley and pointed at a snowbank emphatically.
"Look! Look!" he whined.
And so I looked.
There, in urine, my name sparkled in the moonlight. "Megan." it said.
"It is beautiful," I told him, moved far more than I probably should have been, "but why is there a period at the end of my name?" It turned out that, upon finishing with my name, he realized his bladder was far from empty and a period was the only artistic embellishment that he could come up with at the time. It did not matter though. I spent the fifteen minute cab ride home smiling and asking the cab driver if he had ever written a girl's name in the snow.
12/31/2007
Chirstmas Posts
Burlington seems to be a little confused.
In recent years the city has decided to create its own festival of lights, only its displays lack any thematic consistency.
Santa flying a helicopter, seals balancing balls on their noses, and dinosaurs.... I do not know what holiday they are celebrating at the lake front, but it is not one that I am familiar with.
As a result of this confusion, I have taken it upon myself to inform the entire city that these lights are ridiculous. "Performing seals and dolphins jumping out of waves have nothing to do with Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or winter!" I shout through my car window as I drive by. I can only do these things when driving my own car because both my parents, brother, and sister all put on the child locks when I am riding as a passenger with them so that I am unable to open the windows to shout things at people.
- 12.20.07
Secret Confession: I sometimes call my brother on his cell phone when I know he is driving his car just to see if he will answer. And when he answers, because he does always answer, I proceed to cite statistics on traffic accidents involving cell phones to him.
- 12.21.07
I handed her the plaster hand and lamented about how my mother refused to mount it on the wall.
"Oh my, but you're missing finger prints on two fingers," she noted.
I narrowed my eyes and glared at her suspiciously. "Are you trying to steal my identity Grandma?" I asked, completely serious, but she just laughed.
In spite of my reservations, my Grandma is now the proud owner of one plaster replica of my hand. I am fairly certain that it is now only a matter of time before she goes on a crime spree, planting my finger prints everywhere to ensure that she is never caught.
- 12.25.07
A few years ago, in what I can only assume was an attempt at family bonding, my father bought two snowmobiles and proceeded to outfit the entire family (with the exception of my older sister because apparently she is unimportant) with skidoo suits, boots, helmets and gloves.
I will take a minute right now to explain something to you, internet. I am not the kind of person whom others look at and say to themselves, "Wow, is she ever cool." Quite frankly, I am the kind of person that people look at and say, "Wow, how did someone so completely uncoordinated ever manage to survive into adulthood?" To my recollection, only once have I ever been referred to as cool (in anything but a sarcastic manner at least), and ironically enough I was doing something decidedly dorky at the time. Cool is not something I aspire to be, so none of this has ever bothered me. But I digress...
I have made it somewhat of a mission in life to become the antithesis of cool, and so it should come as no surprise when I tell you that, in shopping for my skidoo attire, I tried to find the most horrendous outfit I could. If there had been a hot pink, nylon, one piece skidoo suit I would have fallen in love, but alas the best I could find was plain black. But for a helmet I had my eyes set on something I referred to as "the flamer".
- 12.27.07
"I'll have to think about it," I told him.
"It will be fun," he insisted.
"But the last time I went there I ended up vomiting out the sliding door of my van and snorting ecstasy off of the counter. And that's just what I can remember doing. There are entire portions of the evening that I still cannot even account for."
"See!" He says emphatically, "you had a good time."
I decided to ignore him because I knew that if I tried to say anything to the contrary he would simply argue that this "good time" happened during the part of the night that I have no recollection of.
- 12.30.07
In recent years the city has decided to create its own festival of lights, only its displays lack any thematic consistency.
Santa flying a helicopter, seals balancing balls on their noses, and dinosaurs.... I do not know what holiday they are celebrating at the lake front, but it is not one that I am familiar with.
As a result of this confusion, I have taken it upon myself to inform the entire city that these lights are ridiculous. "Performing seals and dolphins jumping out of waves have nothing to do with Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or winter!" I shout through my car window as I drive by. I can only do these things when driving my own car because both my parents, brother, and sister all put on the child locks when I am riding as a passenger with them so that I am unable to open the windows to shout things at people.
- 12.20.07
Secret Confession: I sometimes call my brother on his cell phone when I know he is driving his car just to see if he will answer. And when he answers, because he does always answer, I proceed to cite statistics on traffic accidents involving cell phones to him.
- 12.21.07
I handed her the plaster hand and lamented about how my mother refused to mount it on the wall.
"Oh my, but you're missing finger prints on two fingers," she noted.
I narrowed my eyes and glared at her suspiciously. "Are you trying to steal my identity Grandma?" I asked, completely serious, but she just laughed.
In spite of my reservations, my Grandma is now the proud owner of one plaster replica of my hand. I am fairly certain that it is now only a matter of time before she goes on a crime spree, planting my finger prints everywhere to ensure that she is never caught.
- 12.25.07
A few years ago, in what I can only assume was an attempt at family bonding, my father bought two snowmobiles and proceeded to outfit the entire family (with the exception of my older sister because apparently she is unimportant) with skidoo suits, boots, helmets and gloves.
I will take a minute right now to explain something to you, internet. I am not the kind of person whom others look at and say to themselves, "Wow, is she ever cool." Quite frankly, I am the kind of person that people look at and say, "Wow, how did someone so completely uncoordinated ever manage to survive into adulthood?" To my recollection, only once have I ever been referred to as cool (in anything but a sarcastic manner at least), and ironically enough I was doing something decidedly dorky at the time. Cool is not something I aspire to be, so none of this has ever bothered me. But I digress...
I have made it somewhat of a mission in life to become the antithesis of cool, and so it should come as no surprise when I tell you that, in shopping for my skidoo attire, I tried to find the most horrendous outfit I could. If there had been a hot pink, nylon, one piece skidoo suit I would have fallen in love, but alas the best I could find was plain black. But for a helmet I had my eyes set on something I referred to as "the flamer".
- 12.27.07
"I'll have to think about it," I told him.
"It will be fun," he insisted.
"But the last time I went there I ended up vomiting out the sliding door of my van and snorting ecstasy off of the counter. And that's just what I can remember doing. There are entire portions of the evening that I still cannot even account for."
"See!" He says emphatically, "you had a good time."
I decided to ignore him because I knew that if I tried to say anything to the contrary he would simply argue that this "good time" happened during the part of the night that I have no recollection of.
- 12.30.07
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