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.