Thursday, August 31, 2006

Thursday, August 31, 2006
I had this fleeting moment of … not regret, but maybe its first cousin, longing…today. I was walking through the plus15 system (for non-Calgarians, it’s a maze of indoor walkways, fifteen feet above the ground, that join the many office towers and buildings downtown. We never have to go outside! See also, the film, waydowntown), tromping along from a meeting in my jeans and hiking boots, messy ponytail swinging. I walked past all of these well-dressed, important looking businessfolk, and I had this strange glimmering feeling of longing, a holdover from my business school education.

I know I should be grateful, because I’ve been saved from the mundane 8-5 workplaces that one of my friends likens to being “stuck in a Beckett play”. I do something that I enjoy and find meaningful. But 4 years of having greed and capitalism hammered into your skull takes a while to wear off- I still read the Financial Post. (In secret…) I dream about week-long business trips and conference calls, 3 weeks of vacation and a salary that is well out of the first tax bracket.

But at what point am I going to cave? Cash in, sell out, whatever you want to call it. When will meaningful work and job satisfaction give way to an expense account and an executive dress code- and if it does, will I ever truly be happy?

Oh, the trials and tribulations of the New Grads.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Nervous Nellie...

Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Tonight's the night, the night of rejection and awkward mingling.

That's right, speed dating. Why, I ask myself, do I get wrangled into these things? But then I realize that no one held a gun to my head to force me to do this, and it was totally my decision, and that maybe, subconciously, I really want to.

I'll let you in on a secret, blogreaders. I'm not so good with meeting new people. Mingling and social settings are a near disaster, unless I'm in the right kind of mood, in which I throw caution to the wind and just don't care. My fear of social settings is only intensified when someone in the room makes me nervous- say, a not-so-secret crush, arch nemesis, or even someone I admire and aspire to be like. Basically, I need to be on par with everyone, or I freak out.

I'm sort of hoping that this speed debacle will help me get over this a little bit. Odds are high that I'll be the youngest person there (not an abnormal situation for me), and likely the tallest. Gah, at least I'll have a story to tell when I'm an old spinster catlady.

"One time, I had 10 dates in one night, and they all rejected me simultaneously due to my inability to make inane small talk! But it's okay, because now I have you, kitties. Now I have you."

Hobnobbing with Celebrities, Round Deux

I just got home from the Auburn Saloon, home of the Bettys Afterparty. This time, my friends, I learned my lesson and did not drink copious amounts of vanilla Stoli and diet cola, and instead, drank water and a manhattan. (strooooong)

Oh yes, the Bettys. Not to dis certain awards ceremonies, but I believe that this is the way I framed it for one of my co-workers:

"If the Bettys are like Disneyland, the Catties are like Balzac." And it's true! I was so entertained, I made small talk with two fight directors and a stage manager, I ate great buffet foods, and I even came home with an award.

That's right. Sitting beside me is the FFWD Reader's Choice Award. Of course, it belongs to the company, and I had nothing to do with that production (I saw it!), but tonight- let me just fantasize that it's mine. In some parallel universe, there is a Megan doing things that actually warrant public praise and recognition, not just supporting those that are recognized. Maybe in my next life, but for this one- I'll settle for front-row VIP seats.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Amanda Rants: I Hobnobbed...with Celebrities

Sunday, August 27, 2006
Amanda Rants: I Hobnobbed...with Celebrities

For an extremely accurate summary of last night's events, please see above.

water....must go have more water...

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

souvlaki!

Wednesday, August 23, 2006
That's what's for dinner.

I want this man to have my babies.

'Cause then they'd look like this:

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Another Round of Things I'm Ashamed Of

Tuesday, August 22, 2006
1. I really like that Paris Hilton song. Part of me dies every time I sing it, silently, to myself on the bus, or in the bathroom, or when sitting at my desk. I know I'll never live this down, but just let me say...it's just so "Holiday"-era Madonna. And that I dig.

2. I have no 'costume' for my 'dance class' tomorrow night. If you want to know more details, let's just say it involves poles and heels.

3. I gawked, shamelessly, at the Calgary Police Service trainees as they got coffee this morning, post-workout. Hot. Hawt. Then I got caught.

4. I just made up a song to the tune of the Spiderman theme that actually included the line, "swing-y hair, swing-y hair..."

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Mall Outrage!

Sunday, August 20, 2006
Unfortunately, not Mall Rampage.

So today I was at Market Mall, buying black pants so that I have something to wear to work this week other than blue jeans, when I come across a young missy inappropriately dressed.

When I was 9, there is no way in samhell that my parents would have let me out of the house in a tshirt that said, "Seriously. WTF."

Now, aside from the fact that I am so coveting that tshirt, it's wrong. WRONG! That shirt belongs on a twenty-something, who would wear it with a solid sense of irony. Perhaps on weekends, to her fav hangouts, or on chill movie dates with her imaginary boyfriend. NOT on a pre-teen (or tween, or whatever the hell they've labeled the misguided youth of today) at the mall.

Seriously. WTF.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

And So It Begins...

Thursday, August 17, 2006
I'm getting old.

Oh, scoff if you will. I am fully aware that the ripe old age of twenty-two is, in fact, not that old. Relative to say, sixty-seven, or eighty-nine, or even forty-three, twenty-two blossoms with youth and dewy promise.

Oh, but then one day, you wake up and say to yourself, "Man, I just don't get kids today, what with thier skinny jeans, and eyeliner, and crappy music...how I long for the days of plaid flannel and platform sneakers and neon and Big Shiny Tunes 2. Now THAT was music."

Yes, even hearing a snippet of "Bittersweet Symphony" or a little Gavin Rossdale sends me waxing poetic all over the place, and man, that melted waxing poetic is hard to get off carpet. I fear the day that, after dozing off during Saturday Night Live, I wake up to a "Top Hits!" Time-Life CD collection of the music I listened to during my oh-so-formative adolescent years.

Until then, I will cling to my new Belle and Sebastian downloads like a badge of Indie Rock pride. "I listen to new music! Sometimes! When I'm not listening to old Better Than Ezra albums..."

wu-oh, oh, it was Good...

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Thrills. Chills. Ikea Furniture.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006
So I'm in the process of moving into the new Chez Moi. I'm very, very excited to finally be settling down in a place for more than eight consecutive months. I can hang art! (And not just crappy, every-dorm-has-one cheap repo posters...Van Gogh, anyone?) I can unpack dishes! I can burn candles without violating my residence agreement!

This also means I can furnish as I so choose. Or as my budget so chooses, whichever comes first. My parents were wonderful enough to go pick up my new bed from Ikea, Home of Recent Graduate Decor on the Cheap, last weekend. John and Amanda were lovely enough to gift to me an Ikea tv-stand (on wheels! Hello, wheely coffee table...) and a red velvet armchair. It doesn't go so much with our borrowed burgandy 1960's sectional (but what a sweet sectional!) but at this point, I care not.

I'm just psyched to be the inhabitant of a 3-bedroom (and one roommate!), main floor house on a quiet, well-treed side street in Kensington.

My baby brudder and I (okay, just the brudder...I had very little to do with it) assembled my Ikeafurniture on Monday, and now it's just a matter of riding out my time with the menagerie for the next 2 weeks. I'm assuming that a rather rollicking house warming shenanigan will take place, and I'll keep everyone posted.

Next step in my life: Learning to sustain the life of houseplants.

Word of the day: Free Sandwiches. Apparently, there IS such a thing as a free lunch- one just has to attend luncheon meetings to get it.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Two posts in one day! Oy!

Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Okay, so just an update: I bit the bullet, and in two weeks, I'll be a speed-dating maven. I'm sure that only hilarity will ensue. That, and potential mortificiation, which only makes for a better story!

Quick rant: Why do people think that they are automatically quite intelligent if they can "banter about everything from politics to poets". Yes, most of the smart people I know can indeed banter about every varied and sundry topic under the hot august sun. But just being able to consiously talk about politics? Monkeys and parrots can do that. And bitching about Ralphie Boy or Tony Blair or Bush does not count as legitimate political discussion, unless it is associated with a topic not found in the gossip section of the paper, or real discussionary points.

I don't want to sound like the smart police here- hell, I know essentially NOTHING about the Canadian political system. I'm a good Liberal that way. But I'm so cheezed with people who think that they're automatically flashin' the smart card when they mention the PM in passing. Not so, friends. Same goes with name-dropping Beckett, Shakespeare, James Joyce, the Holocaust, Rwanda, and the state of the religious beliefs of Hollywood production teams. Back it up, buttercup.

But this brings me around to the question that has been haunting me all day...what does make someone intelligent? What makes smart...SMART? How do we distinguish Wall-Street-Journal toting, TheCompleteWorksOfShakespeare "reading" poseurs from bona fide smart folk?

Please, enlighten me. All of my smart friends (and I do have smart friends..who actually HAVE read Billy Shake's complete works. And talk politics). The airhead, she is dying to know.

Everything's Coming Up Millhouse...er...Kirsten

So, congratulations are in order for Kirsten, who, unlike your blogger here, actually has a social life and therefore, interactions with the male kind. Woot for you!

Remember, back in the day, when I was trapped in an elevator with a creepy man? Who I dubbed Creepy Elevator Man? Oh, well...he's one of the head honchos of the good ol' fringe festival that I have been basically living and breathing all week. So I get to spend hours with CEM (now Creepy Fringe Guy). Must say, though, that he's been really nice helping me construct a 10 foot by 10 foot tent every day.

Sigh. Other than that, I think tonight entails a viewing of the fine cinematic genius of Jude Law, and maybe some bbq'ing. If it doesn't rain. (Please don't rain!)

Monday, August 14, 2006

Post Number 157

Monday, August 14, 2006
Do you know what's harder than parallel parking in my yacht of a car?

Parallel parking my yacht of a car on the Left-hand side of the street. Weird.

So, my weekend was pretty short, much wallpaper stripping, fringing and watching movies. I have to say, that if Mr. Ewan McGregor ever stopped by my office, I'd have to take him into captivity and keep him as a pet for the rest of my days.

Sigh. That would be nice.

Friday, August 11, 2006

TGIF?

Friday, August 11, 2006
Thank God it's Friday?

Thank God itstopped Friggingraining?

Tsshk Gahhhd it's fringe?

I'm bad with the acronyms. Must be because I spend 2 hours hauling a tent, a rubbermaid tote, and a trifold display thing through the rain because SOMEONE...wait...blog is traceable back to me...

Let's just say that no, Western Canadian High School is not actually located between 7-8th streets, that it's between 5-6th streets, and that made my morning a little stressful.

Sigh. It's going to be a long weekend. And I don't mean the type filled with strange civic holidays, bbq's and an extra day off.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Heaven Forbid I Not Dare to Try Everything Once...

Thursday, August 10, 2006
Okay, friends. I need some decision-making assistance.

At work, I am responsible for planning a variety of kicky promotional events. One of them is usually a singles' night, so while doing some preliminary research, I managed to somehow sign myself up for a speed dating service. (Why, oh why, don't I just hit 'cancel' instead of entering my email address?)

Now, I'm always game. I'll try anything at least once, even just so screw up so fantastically that I get a good story out of it.

Should I attend a speed-dating event at the end of August? Keeping in mind that the cost for "Meeting 10 Bachelors! An Open Bar! and Gourmet! Hors! D'Oeuvres!!" is a whopping $70.

I don't think I could drink seventy dollars worth of open bar...but should I try it? Would this stop my whining and snivelling and nights at home with Drew Barrymore and friends? (Probably not. I'm stubborn like that)

Due to my indecisive nature, blogreaders, I shall let you decide.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

My Horribly Innapropriate Thought of the Day

Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Okay. If you didn't have the pleasure of knowing me (or talking to me) back in November, when surely I ranted and raved for hours about the release of the Harry Potter movie (don't ask me which number..4 maybe?), you're about to rejoice in some of the wonder that was my ongoing banter.

Harry. Potter. Is. So. Hot.

Yes, I have a major crush on a fictional, teenage wizard. Yes, I understand that Daniel Radcliffe, who plays the fictional teenage wizard is only 17. Yes, I understand that in some countries, that would be highly illegal, and if I even attempted to date a 17 year old child in THIS country, my friends would never let me forget it and would refuse to associate with me in most contexts.

But I cannot deny my attraction to said fictional teenage wizard. Doesn't help that an old boyfriend(?) looked much like the bastard offspring of said fictional teenage wizard and rock god John Lennon. At any rate. He's hot, and I'm more than willing to admit my shameful crush.

C'mon, who WASN"T all awkward during the scene in the bathtub, whereby a bubbly Harry Potter was only marginally covered by suds? AWKWARDED OUT.

So, imagine my shock and curiosity when I find out that actor that plays my beloved fictional teenage wizard is going to appear. Nude. On. A. HORSE. in a London stage production.

Once again, let me echo my AWKWARDED OUT statement.

AWKWARD.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Living Alone sucks when...

Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Okay, so the only thing worse than incredibly painful and violent (flu? Food poisoning?) sickness for 7 hours straight is waking up the next morning and taking the bus to work.

That is all.

Friday, August 04, 2006

AAAGHHRHH!

Friday, August 04, 2006
AAARHHHHGGGHHH!

Lack of control over certain situations not to be named has left me quite verklempt (I looked up the spelling of that one), and I fear that the next period of intederminate time will also be damaging to my mental health.

Does anyone know a good shrink in Calgary? And if so, can we perhaps pinpoint someone that I can blame and send bills to?

AAAARRRGHHHGHH!

At least tonight we're going to Bingo.

What, you haven't heard of it? Clearly, it's the hottest new exclusive, members-only club in town.

(What's the opposite of hail?) to the Bus Driver

Okay. I thought of a rant.

I would really like to appeal to those individuals who decide that the perfect time to haul their stroller-bound infants and/or rolling luggage fit for a cross-Atlantic (ON A SHIP) journey is, in fact, between 8 and 9am, or 5 and 6pm.

Listen. I understand, okay? You have places to go, peoples to see, things to do (what, with an infant, on a bus, at 8:30 in the morning...is that even sane?... I can’t imagine…) but really. Really?! Do you understand exactly what taking the bus during rush hour is like? I’m sure you do, which is why logically, you decided to come aboard hauling your mass of worldly possessions with you.

I really shouldn’t bitch about the Transit system. Honestly, I can get to essentially everywhere I want to, generally when I want to, but never after midnight. And, I mean, the busses are only late about, what, a third of the time? No sweat.

And one might really learn to enjoy being crammed on a tin can of a vehicle, hurling through time and space, pressed up against a glass door that could burst open at any moment and a stranger that smells oddly like the closets at Grandma’s house. Or, maybe riding next to a woman who spends the entire 22 minute journey calling all her friends to tell them that her wedding has been cancelled is a lesson in what NOT to do in public.

I’m not the boss of the world, and clearly, I understand that the Public Transit system does not exist to ferry me to and fro, on my command, and cater to my every whim. However, the other people that ride said bus?

Clearly lacking in (now, how would Amanda phrase this? Oh yes…) a basic level of self-awareness.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

I wish I had a rant...

Wednesday, August 02, 2006
I really, really do!

If only I had something to really twist my knickers, y'know? I could direct all this pent up energy that threatens to become hostility any second now towards someone, or something other than the Calgary Herald and the dogs I live with.

You know what's really sad? I've lost all desire to read. I LOVE reading. I would move into Chapters or the Library (preferably Chapters- I mean, they have a Starbucks, hel-lo!) if I could. In fact, I might just try. But back to my point. I've spent hours wandering about bookstores in the past few weeks, and I've come up with NOTHING. I'm in the midst of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius which is just so damn good that I don't want it to finish, so I'm savouring it, but at the same time, is so emotionally involving that I can't just sit and read it.

I need something fluffy, yet smart. Sassy, fun, but breathtakingly monumental. Something with a protaganist like me, and a happy ending.

Actually, I need to know what comes after the happy ending.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

This one’s for you, Kirsten.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Last night, two guys I’ve dated in the past year and a half contacted me (within ten minutes of each other!) and asked me out again. To this I say, “whaaat?! Theeee?! Fridge?!!” Seriously. I’ve always been one to learn by doing, but I don’t like to make the same mistake twice. I even have a fridge magnet that proclaims just that! (It hangs inbetween “Look look! Said Sally, Look where I’m pierced!” and “Welcome to Suburbia- where they cut down the trees and name streets after them”)

So what gives? Am I really willing to try, again, with someone that it didn’t work with the first time? Obviously, I have reasons for ending both relationships (if you can even call them that…). But what I think it comes down to is the fact that dating is exhausting. I’m tired of dating- the whole ‘whatdoiwearwhatshouldiorderohmygodshouldikisshim?!’ ordeal. I’m really sick of putting up a good front for a few weeks, getting to know someone I may not even care to socialize with next month. Can’t I just date someone I already know, someone who’s already seen me at my best and worst, in a natural environment?!

Egads. Well, I’ll let you know, faithful blog readers, exactly how round deux with bachelor number two goes. My money’s on ‘not promising’ and/or ‘traumatic exercise in self-deprecating torture’.

PS- Kirsten, what does Dr Phil have to say about this?! Perhaps I really DO need to borrow that book.