THE LAST POST OF 08!

Another year over my dear reader(s).

My Christmas (year end) newsletter:

The year began with a bang at Sinead's house. We played games like Apples to Apples and made fun of people we went to high school with. January, February, March, April and May went by in a general blur as I drowned myself in school work, particularly chemistry and divination.
The summer was wonderful. I worked at Macys for two incredibly long (but fulfilling!) months before quitting. I worked hard, half-assing it to the best of my abilities. After Macys and I realized we were not compatible, I took to riding my bike during the daytime and and walking the streets at night. All and all, a lucrative, if not productive summer. I also settled on a new major after I came to the realization that I would need about 30 more IQ points and some self discipline to become a doctor. I probably could have overcome the IQ deficit. It was the self discipline part that seemed to pose a problem. Crack is just too damn tasty! I finally settled upon a major in Russian Literature with a minor in cello. All in all, a great decision indeed! I got another job up in Boston, working as a whaler. I also began to tutor the underprivileged in life skills such as Japanese conversational skills and panhandling. First semester came and went, and I spent the first portion of my winter break in Belize, spelunking for rubies.

All and all, a great year!

Happy New Years, guys. I wish for you in 2009 good health, happiness, and lots of ass.

Unfinished Business

As the year rapidly approaches its close, I decided to follow in the footsteps of most magazines and TV shows, and cop out with a retrospective of the year. While the articles in Entertainment Weekly and shows like the Soup may look shiny and new, on closer examination they are just compilations of all the crap you have forgotten from earlier in the year.

Not to worry, though. I realize that my blog is not nearly interesting enough to repeat posts, so I offer to you....

The Rejected Posts of 2008

The blog site saves all of my unfinished posts. I offer to you the post titles and posts that didn't make the cut or I was just to lazy to complete:

If I could wear a sweater made out of tinsel, I would
I love tinsel. I love everything about it. I love how a box of it only costs 59 cents, I love the way it sparkles, and I love how my family coats our Christmas tree in it, despite the fact that our tree is fake.
Last Christmas, I couldn't find tinsel garland in any of the Boston supermarkets. No worries, though, I bought some tinsel garland at Target after the holidays last year (steeply discounted from the original $2 to 80 cents)


A Word about Oprah


Mid-Day Post
I have a little time to kill, and I figure why not write a post?

Warm (my attempt at being sentimental)
Its funny how the pictures you cherish the most aren't the posed ones at JC Penney (that's where we took our pictures. don't hate), but that candid shot of the family in your kitchen or living room.
And its funny how the moments you cherish the most aren't necessarily the milestones--graduations, birthdays, anniversaries--but the little stuff in between.
My childhood is technically over, I suppose. I am having difficulty summing it up in one word, but all in all, it was pretty damn good.
On nights like tonight, when I get nostalgic, I like to wrap myself in those memories. My brother trying to teach me how to ballroom dance when I was 8, watching ER with my family the night before my brother's college graduation, doing wheelbarrows on Kelly's front lawn, driving around Uniondale in search of a restaurant with the family (if you are from Long Island, you realize instantly why that makes no sense)

The Greatest Gift of All

Christmas has come and gone. I talked to many friends and saw my family, warm wishes were shared, some genuine (my friends), some not so much (doesn't matter who).

I gave some awesome presents, and got 30 Rock season 2 on DVD from one brother, and earrings from the other. But the greatest gift of all came from Sarah:

The gift of an empty house on New Year's Eve, filled with the promise of an intimate party of close friends and a drunken entry into 2009.

I have started sorta dating a new guy. He doesn't drink, and I have said to my friends and family that if it becomes anything serious, I am willing to put drinking behind me. My friends understood; my mother was horrified. Of course I don't mean alcohol all together (my family would shun me) but the whole teenage binge drinking thing.

We aren't anything serious at all, though. Two dates does not warrant any promises or commitments--therefore, bring on New Years Eve!

Christmas Confession: No Surprises

My parents are asleep and I finished putting bows on the boxes and spreading them under the tree, and I can't help it:

I prefer the gifts wrapped.

I prefer looking at them, spread beautifully under the tree. I'm old but I can still pretend that one of the boxes filled with socks (or some other necessity that I happened to need in December) is actually some sort of surprise. Even though I'm the one who put the gifts under the tree because my parents were tired, I can pretend that somebody slipped another box under the tree with my name on it that I just haven't seen yet.

I don't want to sound spoiled--we are fortunate to have money to buy presents and I am all too aware of that. I just wish this wasn't a holiday that revolved around material goods. Until my family stopped being the fun type of dysfunctional, I always adored Thanksgiving. It was always like Christmas without the presents. Now that my family can't seem to figure things out anymore, none of the holidays are what they used to be.

Merry Christmas to Myself aka Why Frasier is STILL Awesome aka Why I Remain Single

I am watching my favorite episode of Frasier (the one where they pretend to be Jewish on Christmas to impress a girl), I just got 76 points for the word "quiver" in Scrabble,

and I got excited,

and I remembered once again why the guys aren't lined up for me.

Oh Frasier, Always a Riot!

I was going to make a blog post but then Frasier came on, and goddammit, I just can't tear my attention away!

Frasier is reading about Olaf, the Lonely Goat Herd! A Christmas parable that he wrote!

Possible other post ideas for this evening: something about Christmas. Maybe presents or traditions or some crap like that.

EDIT: And now I am watching the Golden Girls


...

I hope my roommate still loves me

ladylana88 (11:17:34 AM): my stomach hurts
yoohoo is nice (11:17:43 AM): this will make it feel better
yoohoo is nice (11:17:46 AM): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DBuk91phkI
ladylana88 (11:17:55 AM): is this the monkey peeing in its mouth
yoohoo is nice (11:17:58 AM): no
ladylana88 (11:18:03 AM): Megan!
yoohoo is nice (11:18:05 AM): yes

So it has come to this...

I have been actively procrastinating for about three hours now. I've cleaned, done laundry, downloaded music, etc. etc. etc.

I realized that there was nothing left for me to do, so I took some very wise ladies' suggestion and decided to search "monkey peeing in own mouth."

My computer froze and I had to manually shut it down. That's what I get for searching that. And the worst part is, I never actually got to see it!

Don't let the bastards get you down

Dear Bono,

All I want for Christmas this year is to not lose my scholarship for second semester.

I was a good....uhh... at least decent girl this year. I promise to leave out whiskey and potatoes for you this Christmas Eve.

Faithfully yours,

Megan

EDIT: I have fallen off the wagon. I am currently drinking my first cup of real coffee in four months.

Soundtracks: A Retrospect

An abbreviated post for finals time:

Music and sounds create some of our strongest memories. I strongly associate one album or another with many of my studying periods. A quick retrospect:

Sophomore year of HS comps: I got X&Y the Saturday before comps started and listened to it obsessively (June 11, 2005. I only remember that because it was the day after David and Elisa's wedding)

Junior year comps: I burned Revolver off of Michael

Senior year tri 2 exams: Absolution by Muse

Freshman year of college semester 1 exams: Lots of David Gray

Freshman year of college semester 2 exams: Lots of Dispatch.

Megan vs the Box

My morning:
go to post office
try to buy box
post office out of boxes??
City Co. 1- also out of boxes
City Co 2- has box, doesn't look big enough
CVS- also also out of boxes.
Back to City Co 2- buy box
In front of SMG- Box blows away, hits parked car. I drop present I was looking to mail in order to get box, other stuff from CVS rolls under a jeep. (who drives jeeps anymore??)
back to post office: put together box. Gift doesn't fit.
Back to room: try to cut open box to make it big enough.
Post office closes before I'm done.

Total time: hour and a half.
Total gifts mailed: none.

The continuing story of Nan

Our hours are different for finals week, so the manager sent out a full roster with all the employees' hours. Guess what? There is no Nan on that schedule.

There is a Xiang though........


shit.

I can smell you from over here

I had no time to shower before a review session tonight. I changed my shirt, but otherwise my pants still had the vestiges of yet another day at Subway. While we were waiting for the professor to arrive, a girl like four rows in front of me called out to nobody in particular, "Hey why does it smell like Subway in here?" I said nothing, but I could tell, she was jealous. She wished SHE smelled like Subway. Who wouldn't?

I'll show you, asshole.

I just came from calc tutoring. The rundown:



Tutor realizes that I can't divide fractions in my head, I ask if we can stop doing fraction drills because we are short on time, I'm tired, and I can use a calculator on the test, tutor gives me speech about the importance of being able to do math in head, I give him quip about not taking calc ever again, tutor gives me speech about calc being "basic math that really everybody needs to know...I don't care what your major is, how would you feel if you were presented with this symbol and didn't know what to do?" (referring to this: )

Well, tutor, I didn't know what that meant before last week, and I didn't sigh some great sigh of relief when I learned what it meant and I really don't see how if you are lets say, for arguments sake, any profession other than an engineer or math teacher, why I would give a rat's ass what that means.

So, tutor, thanks. Because you gave me something to prove now. You gave me that extra motivation I needed to really study my ass off and get that awesome grade on the final. Because you may have made me feel like an idiot for not being able to divide 3x/9 by 11/2 in my head, but I can still get that 93 I need and get that B in calc.

err...i hope.

"I want you to get excited about your life!"

Props to you know says the catch phrase in my blog title! I have no idea why I chose to use it; it just seemed fun.


Some randoms for a cold Saturday night:


-I told both Catie and Kelly the startling revelation I had this week, and I will now post it for the world (i.e. my other six readers) to see: Although in an ideal world I would marry somebody like Bono, or Bono himself, I will probably settle for somebody who doesn't mind that I announce every time I have to pee.

-I often talk to my fish, pause for a response, and then realize in horror exactly what I just did.

-My karma is a little sucky right now, but I'm pretty sure I know why. First, I found a book of matches on my bathroom floor. I knew that they belonged to one of the two girls who smokes on the top step of my building (and makes my curtains smell like the belong to a cheap motel), so I decided to throw them out. The garbage was empty, though, and I didn't want her to pull them out, so I ran them under water. And then, I noticed that one of the girls in my house looks like a toad, and instead of keeping that sentiment to myself, I told my roommate. And instead of telling nobody else, I am now posting it on my blog for tens of people to read. Those are two very mean things.

EDIT: I haven't posted a picture in a while! This is a tattoo I want to get (that's supposed to be my lower back):

For me, it always comes back to Nan

This evening at while I was on the job ("on the job" sounds like I'm a cop or fireman or EMT...sandwich artists are almost as important. almost.), a man got a meatball sub with pickles. He said, "I know its kind of weird." He's cute, and he's a regular, so I didn't respond with "I honestly don't give a shit about what you or anybody else gets on their sandwich." Instead I replied, "No, there is only one sandwich that I think is really weird, and one of the employees here makes it. He puts tuna, meatballs, and ham together with a ton of veggies." Everyone laughed, and then one of the other girls working asked me who it was. I told her it was Nan, and everyone laughed again, saying "Oh he's so weird" and things to that extent.

Nan is a student straight here from China who speaks no English. And I really mean none. I was telling my mom about him recently, and she pointed something out:

"What did you say his name was?"
"Nan"
"Are you sure?"
"...that's what everyone else calls him."

And then my mom asked the million dollar question:

"Does everyone call him Nan because you told them that was his name? Because you have a history of calling people Nan."

The answer to that question is yes. I believe I was the one who told everybody that his name is Nan. I thought that is what my manager said.

Which brings to mind this conversation from eons ago...

me, to middle school friend's grandmother: "Hi I'm Megan!"
What I heard: "Hi Megan, I'm Nan!"
"Hi Nan!"

...later

me: I just met Nan!
middle school friend: who?
me: I met Nan upstairs
middle school friend: You mean my Nana?

I just put some cereal in my mouth, but it fell out of my mouth and back into the box, so now no one else can have any.

The title is a true story. It just happened like 30 seconds ago.

So, here's my post.

As I sat knitting in my room (a long digression: everyone is getting knit Christmas presents this year; get ready for a pair of socks, hat, or Christmas ornament. Sorry if you hate homemade gifts, I know many people who do [i.e. my mom]; it’s okay, just consider yourself warned and be discreet if you are going to throw away whatever I give you)

Wait where was I?

Oh yeah. So I sat in my room, knitting and listening to U2. Somehow my mind wandered onto a slightly arbitrary topic: love letters. I was thinking about how my mom used to find ones that my brother’s ex-girlfriend wrote him. We weren’t supposed to read them, but that is the price you pay when you are in your twenties and your mom still does your laundry. She would find them on the floor of his room, randomly tucked in books she was about to throw away, in old coat pockets. My mom and I would read them, and then throw them away to prevent his current girlfriend (who subsequently became his wife) from finding them on her many weekend visits.

My mom didn’t find one or two, but easily a dozen. Which got me thinking, will I write love letters? The opportunity has not presented itself yet, but I can’t really see myself writing them. I like to write, and I like to be affectionate, but other than in a birthday card, I can’t see the two interests coming together in the form of a love letter. How do you even present one?
“Hey man, I wrote you this. Enjoy!”

Or do you just leave it somewhere he will find it and hope that he reads it. What if he doesn’t say anything? I would end up torturing myself with the inevitable question: did he just not see it, or did he find it and choose not to say anything?

Oh well. This really isn’t a problem for me right now, but hopefully at some point it will be.

Alphabet Soup

This morning, I sat in Sargent and read about hearing aids. While it is not the most stimulating subject, it most certainly isn't the most boring, either (i.e. not the kind of subject that would cause me to pass out face first in the textbook, like the section on reading disorders.) I was reading along, when suddenly the letters started falling off the page. I wondered if I had fallen asleep without realizing it, as the letters stuck to my hand and got onto my shirt.

Nope, I wasn't asleep. And I'm not going crazy (or maybe I am, but that really isn't relevant for this story). I have no idea why it happened, but the letters were literally sliding off the page.

I just thought I would share that. I just picked an E and a T off my shirt.

The Mohair Sweater

I actually had about half this post typed out, and then my computer refreshed itself. I wonder if that is the gods way of telling me not post this, but whatever. Here goes again:

I have wanted to make posts like this in the past, but then decide against it, allowing that little nagging voice in my head to win out--the one that says "But what if the person you are writing about ends up reading this?"

I seriously contemplated this last night, though, and realized the absurdity of that sentiment for a few reasons; first, only my friends (semi?)regularly read this, and second, my blog isn't linked to my facebook. I only occasionally put the link in my away messages on AIM. Basically, for one of the people I write about to read this means that there is some serious stalking going on (although, I would probably be flattered. But I digress.) So that was my rationalization, or my disclaimer before I continue with the story I want to tell.

Last night, Sarah and I attended Mass. We work on a cycle that roughly spans a month--we go one week, then feel that going one week counts for the following week as well, then one of us feels guilty so one or both of us attend the next week, and then the guilt reaches a breaking point and we both go. Usually I dress a little better than usual; dress pants instead of jeans, or heals instead of sneakers. Yesterday was laundry day, though, so I just went in whatever schlepy (is that spelt right, A?) clothes I happen to be wearing. There's no real excuse for my unmade up face and dirty hair.

It turns out the Bishop was saying Mass last night. During his homily, I couldn't help it, my mind drifted. I started looking around at our fellow church-goers, when someone caught my attention. The guy sitting only two pews in front of us looked oddly familiar, especially considering I was only looking at the back of his head. I knew that back, though. He turned, and my heart started to pound. It was the same guy that I've had an inexplicable crush on for over a year. I feel like such a 12 year old when I talk about him, because I really don't know him at all. The few times we have spoken, I have managed to be at the peak of my awkwardness and say things that instantly make me want to smack myself. I have no reason to like him the way I do, but preteen style, my heart starts pounding and my tongue gets tied every time I see him.

While that may have sounded cutesy, just so you know for sure that it is in fact me writing this, I can also tell you that I became a tad upset. Church was the one place left where I could tame my normally vulgar, teenage-boy thoughts. Not last night!

I've rambled to anybody who will listen about my little encounter. We said hi during the sign of peace, and at the end of Mass he said bye (and I responded by saying hi again. Gah.) When I told my mom this story, she told me once again about the big crush of her life, the boy in the mohair sweater. When she was a freshman in high school, there was a boy in her math class who she still believes was quite possibly 20 years old. He couldn't graduate because he kept failing math. He wore a mohair sweater all the time, and my mom is also pretty sure that he didn't even know she existed. I'm not sure how this story is supposed to make me feel; I guess I have my own version of the boy in the mohair sweater. I just wish that my version can have some fantastic romantic ending instead of "he either dropped out or they finally just let him graduate."

Clean Slate

In preparation of going home, where my laptop will once again be shared with my family members (we have a family computer, its just the family computer can't be used on the couch, in front of the TV, the same way the laptop can), I finally cleared my google history. I knew it needed to happen. Some of the highlights:

prostitute salary
pimp salary
most addictive drug
is heroin more addictive than meth?
drug testing
how long do drugs stay in system?
crack prices
shot glass with chewbacca on it

I guess I have had a lot of questions about street drugs over the past few months.

That's How People from Queens Do It (aka Thanks Inner Voice!)

Two important (i.e. not really) points for today's post:




I covered the window with sandwich wrap last night to keep the draft/ inconsiderate smoking roommates' smoke smell out of the room.





I'm not going to lie; I am pretty damn proud of my handy work. If you walk around my neighborhood in the winter, you'll find a great deal of homes with some sort of plastic over the windows and/or a backdoor.

My second, unrelated point:

Today as I walked back to my dorm from class, I thought about my future. I wondered if everything will work out, and my inner voice said "I'm pretty positive that everything will work out fine." Thanks inner voice!

Saddle up your horses, bitch.

my head is so stuffed that I feel like I can't think straight.

I'm using somebody's library on itunes, and I'm thrown off because she has an acapella group that sings all Hebrew songs, along with a Creed album and a Switchfoot album (Christian rock).

If my life had a soundtrack, and there needed to be some Christian/inspirational rock for some sort of revelation scene, I feel obligated to go with a Stephen Curtis Chapman song.

I used a box of my roommate's tissues and bought her a replacement box, which I am now going through. Sorry about the Indian giving, A. I promise I'll buy you another box that is even better than these ones--with more lotion!

blarg. one of those days.

Somebody Call George Michael, Looks Like We Need a Father Figure

As many of you already know, this weekend my roommate and I adopted Splenda-Claudine. We know that her father is nothing but a deadbeat fish that she doesn't need in her life (mostly because he would probably eat her. Apparently beta fish are known for doing that.) Nevertheless, she has been acting out quite a bit lately, first successfully jumping out of her tank and scaring the shit out of me, and then by continuously trying to jump out every time a feeding rolls around.

Although Alana and I try our best, Splenda-Claudine seems to be thirsting for a father figure (ala the George Michael song.) Because she is a fish, it is okay if her father is just a picture. She responded positively to more than possibility:

Sexy Movie Star Dad^Oprah (good enough to be mom and dad and messiah all in one!) ^

Crazy Old Dad^

Note the way she looks at him^

Four texts

This morning, I received three texts within an hour:

The first had to do with having an orgasm from playing BINGO
The second involved finding out where someones apartment was located
The third was lyrics to the Backstreet Boys song, "Way Back to Your Heart"


If that wasn't enough to totally make my day (and prove that these three girls are psychic), I then received a text during calc about eating bear.

If you sent any one of those four texts, then you should know that I love you to pieces and you just about made my week :)

Sorry Splenda-Claudine

This weekend Alana and I became parents to a beautiful beta-fish, Splenda-Claudine.

Ok, she's actually kind of ugly, but when the pet store owner told us that no one wanted her because she was ugly, we couldn't say no.

Today, I lifted the lid of her fish tank. As I did, my phone beeped. I turned to look at my phone, when suddenly I heard a weird ass noise.

It was Splenda-Claudine, laying on the floor about a foot away from the bookshelf that her tank is on top of. She didn't even flop around.

After I shrieked, I froze for about 30 seconds.

As much as I didn't want to tell my roommate that I killed our fish within 48 hours of buying it, I really didn't want to pick up the little black fish off the floor.

I wrapped her in a tissue, but her scales got stuck to it. So I plopped her into the tank, tissue and all. She promptly sank to the bottom. Upset, I texted Alana that our fish was dead.

Within two minutes, though, she was swimming around like nothing had happened.

She attempted to jump one more time after she woke up from her brief coma, but hit the lid. As I look at her right now, she's just sort of swimming slowly around, that fiestiness that she had yesterday gone. Maybe it's because she's disheartened from her failed escape, or maybe because she needs help after an attempted suicide.

Or maybe it's because she plummeted like two feet, which is pretty damn high for a fish.

Whatever it is, I'm sorry Splenda-Claudine for being a shitty mother, and hopefully your other mother understands you better. If it's that you don't have a father figure, then I'm sorry, but not all families are alike. We can print out a picture of Matt Damon and place it next to your tank. You can pretend that he is your dad if it will make you feel better.

Is it bad that I sort of relate to my pet fish??

Some honest truths

I drool when I focus too hard.

Actually, I once drooled in Rite Aid because I was distracted by what type of eye drops I wanted to buy.

I bought fish oil because it sounds like a panacea to me. Better hair, better memory, lower cholesterol. Sounds like a miracle drug to me!

I am afraid that I will never be as good at a real job as I am at jobs like making sandwiches or hanging clothes.

^I'll stop here. There are a few things that I really wanted to say, but sometimes the truth is a little too much.

Heart Warming (and for once I am not being sarcastic!)

On a serious note:

Despite how young we are, our generation has witnessed some of the worst moments in American history. My most vivid memories of crowding around the TV with my family to watch the news include September 11, invading Afghanistan, and invading Iraq.

Among these moments, though, I can finally add something truly amazing. Last night, I sat a foot and a half away from my TV and watched as Barack Obama gave his acceptance speech. Sure, I voted for him with more than a little reservation, and of course the real test is not the result of the election, but the result of his work over the next four years. It was so surreal, though, this morning to wake up and read all the headlines and realize that America has finally turned over a new leaf. This was the article that really gave me shivers (in the best way possible)

http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/11/05/world.reaction/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

Ode To Angst

Today as I walked to the grocery store, I continued to mope over another unfortunate calculus grade. I had earlier calculated that unless I get 100s on the next three tests, there is no way I can get even an A- in the class.

Which caused me to start thinking about a story from Chicken Soup for the Kids Soul. It was called "What's Wrong With a B+?"

Well, I'll tell you what's wrong with a B+. The girl in the story's friend was crying at soccer practice because she got a B+. The girl asked the million dollar question, "What's wrong with a B+?" and the other girl told her that her dad beat her with a belt whenever she got anything less than an A.

From there I forgot about by calc grades completely and reminisced about some other Chicken Soup for the Now Traumatized Kid's Soul. Like "Hero of the Hood," about a young man named Mike who took care of his crack baby siblings while his mother continued to do crack, or the one about how the girl sang the song from the Lion King at her best freind's funeral, or the one about the kid who didn't have his karate belt because he put it in his sister's grave.

I then laughed when I remembered that I was 9 when I read most of those. I remembered how I was always riveted after yet another story of death and gloom from the writers of Chicken Soup.

Thank you writers of Chicken Soup for the Kids Soul, for reminding me that, even if I get a B+, at least my brother isn't dead from AIDS and my dad didn't steal our family's money for meth and booze.

The Start of Something Wholesome

So Halloween has come and gone.

So has All Saints Day, but for some reason people seem to care more about Halloween.

This evening, Heather, Arturo and I attended a dance recital! It was fantastic-- Sarah is my new favorite Irish step dancer (sorry Michael Flatly.) Heather and I decided that we would start our own step crew (not Irish step, but like, "We pirates because they represent the struggle" step). Here are a few of our possible crew names:

Whitey Gone Steppin
White Chocolate
Out of Africa

and, if we instead decide to form a Bhangra crew: White Curry.


So that's all for now. The blog post title comes from the desire Heather expressed to go back to a wholesome lifestyle. Tonight certainly was wholesome, and next Friday, with the help of Sinbad and maybe some Apples to Apples, it should be a wholesome night of family fun!

The Xtra classy life

I should be in class right now, but I got really sick this morning from a strawberry smoothie.

So, with that out of the way, a quick post before I get back to studying for a midterm.

This morning I checked my bank statement, which brought me to one of the single classiest moments of my entire life (no, your eyes are not deceving you. That is not $149.)

While this instance alone proves that I might just be one of the classiest people you know, I believe I reached the apex of my classiness two nights ago. I was settling in to eat my dinner and watch a little TV before studying. I reached into my fridge and realized that I still had a variety of bottle juices and sodas from the previous weekend. I grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice, only to find that it wasn't only cranberry juice. A cocktail might be nice on a weekend night, but not on a Tuesday.

Guess what?

This time next week, assuming that there aren't recounts and whatnot, we should have a new president!

(and hopefully America will prove to the rest of the world that it is finally getting its head out of its ass!)

Ralph Nader '08: We're fucked no matter who becomes president, so why not finally make this old bag happy?

Oy vey

I'm not down right now, nor am I out. Am I confused as hell? You bet your sweet ass.


I could write a post about it, but maybe we can talk it out in real life. What I want the most right now is the advisement of a psychic (a real one who can tell me that she already knows what decisions I will make and that those decisions will yield lots and lots of happiness.)


quick note: my roommate used the term "tool bag" in her post last night, which means that it is possible that I am starting to rub off on her. The title of my post is definitely an Alana phrase, but it aptly describes how I feel right now.

and another note: Kelly, I almost used the phrase "copious happiness" just to make you laugh

My Best Friend

Last night I was contemplating who is really my best friend these days. There were many contenders, but there was a clear winner in my mind. My best friend has been with me through thick and thin, for some of the best times of my life and some of the worst. I don't think my best friend has even once disappointed me, or made me feel bad about myself, or bad about anything, really.


Thank you, TV, for being the best friend a girl could ever have.

:)

Untitled (because my mom threw out the dictionary)

"I just tried to check the dictionary....but I threw it out."
"You threw out the dictionary?"
"Yes."
"Why would you do that?"
"I threw it out a couple of months ago. I don't know why."

My number 1 most overused phrase:

"I know this isn't funny, but it kind of is"

Cheap parents make for comedic situations

As I lay in my bed last night, a certain childhood memory popped into my head that nearly made me laugh out loud.

A little background: When I was 13, I told my mom that I was desperate to learn an instrument. She was pleased because no one else in my family ever learned, and she asked me why the sudden interest. I told her that I had always been interested, which prompted her to then ask why I quit piano after only two lessons when I was 8.

Which brings me to the memory that still makes me laugh every time it comes up:

When I was 8, my mom decided it was time for me to learn piano. She priced lessons and found that they were too expensive. Instead of waiting and saving up some money for legit lessons, my mom asked around and found out that a woman named Pia was teaching lessons out of her living room. My mother gladly dropped me off for my first lesson. I was petrified of dogs until I was about 12, so it was traumatic for me that Pia's two large dogs (which she refused to put into another room) barked whenever somebody touched the piano. She also tutored math simultaneously for a group of boys that sat next to the piano. Anddd to top it off, she was a chain smoker.

All I remember telling my mother after the first lesson was that I would never go back because Pia's cigarette smoke kept going into my ear.


This was actually a post I was going to make a few days ago, but I feel that it is fitting with this story:
Sometimes I want to make lots of money when I grow up so I can provide not only the basics for my children, but also the luxuries. At the same time, though, when you grow up in a family that uses a broken hand-me-down TV (that always makes the program look like it is taking place at night) or a car with the fender falling off from a car accident ten years prior, I feel that you grow up with more perspective and a much, much better sense of humor about life.


So that was a long ass post. But I am kind of laughing even now as I think of Pia.

Oh, and now it is in writing. It is my goal to play piano at least once for my friends before the year is over.

Crayons and alka seltzer

I had a really pensive post in mind, but instead I thought I would share with you something much funnier. Many of my 10 readers knew me when I was a kid, but to the rest of you, this may come as a shock. I was a weird kid. I know, I know, hard to believe, but true (typing with sarcasm is really hard, but that is definitely sarcastic). Every year I would ask for really odd gifts for my birthday. I present to you a comprehensive list:


Age 8-13: Alka seltzer
Age 8-13: 96 box of crayons
ca. Age 8: a wand with a star on top
Age 9: A barometer (mom said no to that one)
Age 9: box of magnets (mom did buy me that, though)
Age 12: A rhyming dictionary
ca. Age 11: coasters with penguins on them
Age 19: Uno
Ages 8-17: Various genesis CDs (or, in the Early days, cassettes)

It's crunchy!

I'm eating a lollipop right now that happens to resemble a certain male body part (COCK).


I tried to be subtle.

As it turns out, its filled with rice crispies! I had a really gross pun here, but just removed it. Instead, I will just say--this treat is quite delicious.

On to other news-- I had quite the revelation this morning. When thinking about future professions, I decided to tally my skills:

-Vacuuming
-Making beds
-Laundry
-Fixing things
-Cleaning bathrooms


...and then I stopped, because it was then that I realized that the profession in which I would probably do the best would be maid service.

(not that there is anything wrong with that)

"Food and dick"

My prediction was right! It was a fantastic weekend indeed. Here are a couple of pictures:

I just finished cleaning/washing the bedding now. Actually, there is a little more to be done. But it was totally worth it. It's weekends like this that remind how awesome my friends really are :)

I can feel it...

It is going to be a glorious weekend. It has already gotten off to a great start!

AND I VOTED!

In a Nutshell

I've been semi-forced into doing a great deal of thinking lately about what I really want from my life. This prompted me to describe my academic experience thus far, but I decided instead to draw a picture of it. I put arrows in, so hopefully it makes some sense. (if you click it, it gets larger)

Beautiful!

Today a man thanked me at Subway for "making him such a beautiful sandwich." And he meant it, too! It really made my night--and has inspired me to start giving random complements to strangers.

Good morning! It's Tuesday--Monday?

I just received the game Taradiddle for my birthday from Kelly.

I can't express how much I enjoy turning children's games into drinking games.

I made a list of things that make me happy last week, which brings me to the list of things that make me happy, yet guilty at the same time.

Magic baked goods
Cheap Vodka
Boxed Wine (really just on principle)
When other people make jokes about a particular race/religion (it could be mine, it could be someone else's...just the faux pa of it makes it too much for me to handle)
Unnecessarily serious situations (court)
When somebody unexpected says something inappropriate
Laughing at church


There's more, but I think you get the gist of it.

"You were going to conquer the world. What happened?"



I really don't know.

Happiness is

So last night at dinner, my friends were discussing pessimism versus optimism. Some of my friends decided to switch places for a day. All and all it was a pretty enlightening discussion, albeit very funny. I believe it ended with Lauren getting smacked in the head with some guy's backpack.

I don't consider myself optimistic or pessimistic, but rather I'm just a happy person, or at least positive. I was down and out for a few days, but everything is fine now. That's not like me to get depressed. Feeling blue isn't going to cure any diseases, or bring about any positive changes.

Which brings me to this list I've been making in my head. We'll call it the happiness list (family and friends implied). Here goes:

Laughing till I cry
making other people laugh
good music
good vodka
playing piano until my fingers hurt
buying a sale item
stealing things from the dining hall
encouraging my friends to steal from the dining hall
getting a really good hug
riding my bike with Jess through Alley Pond Park
talking about TV with Kelly in a way that other people might find weird
realizing that Catie and I were thinking the exact same stupid thing
deep discussions at Nud Pob with Sarah
hearing about Kate's insane nights
Sinead's random texts
lunches with Bridget
riding in Dan's car and listening to his crazy music (although that has not happened in wayyy too long!)
these recent discussions between Sarah, Heather and myself that are oddly sober (err circus tent taxis?)
Playing video games in Lauren and Edyna's room
Whenever Arturo comes with us to dinner
Edyna's mixed drinks
Girls nights!
Watching TV in a group
Lost cookies
having a spell check come up with no errors


so there it is. I wasn't going to name anyone in particular, but then I realized, I had to. I am so lucky to have people in my life who make me happy every single day

Insert song lyric here

I'm listening to "I Want to Break Free" by Queen right now. And you know what, Queen? I do want to break free! I'm just not sure from what.

And earlier I was listening to CSNY's "Judy Blue Eyes." The past does remind us of what we are not now! So wise.

"I Want to Break Free" just ended and now Coldplay's "Crest of Waves" came on. They are right, too! Things could be worse.



I need a break.


EDIT: I seem to come across angry or bitter here...thing is, right now I'm a little of both. Sometimes life just gets you down, right?

I like this.

To my friends from the land down under..

By the land down under, I'm referring to the land under New York, which is New Jersey. According to this map from the Washington Post, the Democrats are losing their hold of the state.

Now, I'm not the most political person, and actually for those who are, I'm probably very frustrating to talk to. I'm that American teen who didn't vote in the primary because, well, I forgot. And even though I'm about as liberal as they come on most issues, there are a few issues (actually, its really only one) that I am pretty conservative on. I'm the last person who should talk politics.

Nevertheless, as hypocritical as it may seem, I'm asking my New Jersey people to make sure they vote. If that state is colored red on the map come election day, I will seriously cry. Plus, it would reaffirm the long held belief that New Jersey is good for nothing other than taking New York's trash.

I'm listening to opera right now; my roomate better not walk in.

Of course I love my roommate (hey Alana!) but right now it's just me, vanilla tea, and a bit of opera.

I may be a pop culture junkie who eats up bad TV shows and movies, and I may talk about how much I dislike anything remotely related to the Bronte sisters or Jane Austin, but I have my high culture moments, too (secretly...except that now it's on my blog)

So, on a completely different topic, my friends and I participated in Making Strides today. Nine years ago, we lost my grandma to breast cancer. My aunt and my mom laughed with me on the phone today...I told them how we left the walk midway through the walk to get IHOP and we all agreed that skipping out for pancakes is the exact type of thing my grandma would have loved. Every time I smell crab apples (like the tree in her backyard) or a sauce cooking in the kitchen, I think of her and how much I still miss her.

I do regret...

I do regret deleting a post that "I" made last night. I couldn't delete the picture in it using Sarah's crazy Mac, so in a rush I just got rid of the post....I tried to see if deleted posts were saved somewhere just now, and they aren't.

sadness.

To two of my lovers, Kate and Kelly--

I was just going through the files on my computer when I found one called "Wedding." I clicked it, only to find this picture:

I have no recollection of drawing this, but I'm pretty sure I know why I drew this (err a certain wedding we all want to get invited to next summer? You know the one I'm talking about...no names, though. I wouldn't want that person to ever google their own name only to have "My pet lizard, slappy" to pop up as a result). The date of creation was sometime last summer--presumably when I first got my laptop.

Well Kate and Kelly, I adore both of you, and yeah, this probably would happen if you went to that wedding.

Yesterday, Today

So the past couple of days have been a strange change of pace. I realized some things, found out about other things, and got some piece of mind about a few important things.

None of which I wish to discuss on a blog. Or, in person actually.

Which brings me to something I didn't realize I was going to talk about until 30 seconds ago when it randomly popped into my head. In junior year at Kellenberg, we read this book called "Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?" Basically, it sucked. Hard. In it, though, there was this section about "the games we play." One game in particular completely summed me up in a paragraph: The Willing and Wordy. People who play "The Willing and Wordy" game talk nonstop, but when you stop to actually think about what that person has said, it all amounts to nothing substantial. It's used as a defense to keep people from getting too close.

I have no unifying theme to my post. Here's a picture of something my mom sent me in a care package

(in case it's too hard to read, it says "wow! he already knows and he's so little")


and! I served on a jury today! hopefully in the future I will be smart enough to weasel my way out of it.

Eat fresh, bitches.

So today is my first real day of work at Subway. It's only from 3:30 to 8:30, which really isn't too bad. At Macys my shifts were usually 7-8 hours, so 5 shouldn't be a problem. I tend to excel at meaningless tasks, so something tells me I am going to be a great sandwich artist.

Heather's been making lists, and I want to, too (at least for this post)

Things I'm great at:

5. Cleaning counter tops (when I volunteered in the hospital coffee shop in HS, I was told the counters were never cleaner)
4. Picking up clothes off of the floor and hanging them up (I kept getting $5 of macys money for clearing my racks the fastest)
3. Finding lost things
2. Getting people to tell me things
1. Quitting (I've quit organizations, majors, sports teams; dropped classes; let go of things I've really wanted, etc. etc. better than anyone else I know)

Things I suck at:
2. Spelling
1. The important stuff

sigh. happier post tomorrow.

flushing the toilet it's a cat.

I have created a cat-flushing-the-toilet monster out of my roomate.

please watch:

or don't, actually.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49jKeGyUCJE

If I had a million dollars, Well I'd buy you a monkey (haven't you always wanted a monkey?)

It's been raining for three days. Oh Boston, you are making it very difficult for me to like you right now.

I was trying to type up a post, but I erased it. Basically, I can't wait to go home for a couple of days.

13 days until RED LOBSTER NIGHT! (if you understand what I'm talking about, then it probably means that you're one of the people I'm missing a whole lot right now)

What I Built This Weekend

Two posts in one day?? Now thats just excessive

I realized how boring my last post was...so to make it up, these are from the vault. SUMMER 2007: NARM

At least there is cookie crisp

Things I forgot to pack when I moved from bellerose back to boston: socks, half my underwear, sweaters, rain boots

I really, really need my boots right now.

So I have a pretty exciting weekend planned so far. After class today, grocery shopping, maybe sneaker shopping, maybe pizza, laundry (on a friday night. ohhh yeahhhh)

Tomorrow: food pantry for Red Cross, studying, studying, reading, studying.

Jealous much?

The thought of all the stupid things I'd said

the title, coming from the Coldplay song, "Trouble."

So, with that in mind, here is how my day has gone so far:

-We practiced using diagnostic tests in my communication disorders class. I did iffy overall on the Cognitive ability test and failed the cognitive judgement test. Stand out moments:

Q: What would you do if you were stranded at an airport with only one dollar?

A: (Me): hook for the rest of the money. But seriously ...hitchhike?

the real answer was call a friend to wire you money, or something along those lines.


Q: What is your full name?

A: Megan McIsaac!

Don't you have a middle name?


And after that, in the second class of my day, we were discussing comas, and I asked if that was the same part of the brain that would be affected by crystal meth. I did not see how that was an inappropriate question, but the other girls in my class just stared and the professor seemed a little surprised, too.

whateva, don't hate.

Easy.

Again, I started to write something possibly meaningful about how easy it is to dislike people we don't even know, but alas, I can't be serious for more than five minutes and I have instead decided to post this picture of my chapstick. It has a badger on it!

Productive!

In so many ways I feel like I'm going through the freshman experience. Not "I'm going through the freshman experience all over again," but instead I'm living out what so many other sophomores did a year ago. I've had to learn to re-budget my time, for one thing. Last year I had two labs both semesters and even overloaded in the spring. Basically, there is no need to learn how to budget your time when you are on nonstop autopilot. I've also been having more fun that's less "we're going exploring in a new city!" and more "I don't remember getting here and where did that cat come from?!"

But today I felt shades of my old self come back, and actually, it wasn't too bad. I made a list this morning that broke down what I needed to do for today hour by hour, and I'm a little backed up in my homework but I still feel like I have a handle on things.

As the title of this blog says (in a style that makes it look like it's a Broadway play) here is the list of Productive (!) things I did today:
-Called Verizon to fix my phone (they didn't so I guess Dad will have to call the actual store)
-Got tickets to see Paul Farmer speak (if you don't know who he is, I really, really recommend you read this book.)
-Called mom to wish her happy birthday
-Ate a guinea pig
-Mailed Kelly the book I stole from her temporarily
-Went to class and stayed awake (all it took was eating an apple! still no coffee!)
-Took out trash

hope you have a productive day, too!

Quick update.

I think I have ambition again! I thought it died, but it must have just been sleeping for a bit, on a vacation...


(real post later)

Hey it's a new week. Lets celebrate with some 80s music videos.

It seems that the stars were slightly misaligned this weekend, causing the gods to shat upon many people who are close to me (except the ones who enjoyed this weekend with the aid of some..err...herbal methods. still jealous). So for those of you who had a shitty, relatively sober weekend, I hope this makes you laugh as much as Sarah and I did.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYbUCvz1LYE

oh, and here's a pikachu.

gosh, I tried to write something deep but I erased it because it was cheesy.

...

I just opened paint to draw a picture but I couldn't come up with anything.

...

so I'll just leave you with this: my mom bought me the TV guide so I could watch TV and know what was on. It was the queens edition.

Sometimes you just need to throw things.

Today I threw a French-English dictionary on the floor in anger. I had first thrown a flyer, but it didn't make any sound. I took it up a notch with the dictionary. I held it high above my head, and chucked it on the floor. It made a satisfying bang. It isn't the type of thing that breaks or causes a mess, which is really good. Then, I picked it up and put it back.

Despite the fact that I did enjoy throwing the dictionary, it wasn't enough and I ended up crying. And then I ate pizza bagels and now I think I'm going to read some more about the middle ear and then I'm going to fall asleep with the light on and in the morning I'll definitely eat some kashi.

Let take a tour of my room!

...or at least just the interesting stuff.

So this is my door. Alana and I have a star chart for when we do awesome stuff.

That's my pink bowl filled with Pad Thai from NUD POB. pobbbbb. mmmmmm.

My mom sent me that card...last week. on September 10. She wrote on the inside "Santa will be here soon!"

My current Ruckus playlist. ballin.

My thoughts on Religion, Race, Politics, The Meaning of Life.

No photographic evidence...

Let's take a multiple choice quiz.

Q: Last night, I...

a. Crashed a wedding

b. Saw a little person with pink hair riding on a motorized scooter (like the "Jazzy scooter")

c. Saw the dudes from Los Lonely Boys (and watched as Heather got an autograph)

d. Bought Super Pretzels at Shaws (not Star Market) at midnight

e. all of the above

I'll give you some time to mull that over.

HINT:

If you guessed E you were correct! yey!

Only late, late last night, after everything was over, did I realize that both Heather and I had this on our hands when we went into the wedding:

I just ate some Kashi, and it was delicious.

Despite the fact that I rarely shut up in real life, when it comes to typing, I tend to be on the brief side. My papers last year always fell a page or two short, I give one word replies when instant messaging, etc. My attention span is pretty short; I'm actually already bored with writing this blog post and my mind has wandered to what type of smoothies were served in the dinning hall this morning. I hope it wasn't pineapple, because then I would be sad that I missed it.

I figure, considering this is the first real post, I need to update all ten people who will read this about my life thus far. And by that, I mean the last year. Don't worry, nothing too interesting happened so it'll be about 100 words and contain pictures.

Last year I was premed. It gave me headaches.

This summer, things like this happened.

And now I'm a speech, language and hearing major, and things are better.

What is this.

I have no idea why I created a blog. I have nothing significant to say, and chances are you will be a lesser person for reading anything I write.