Sunday, December 30, 2007

Two! Two full years!

Sunday, December 30, 2007
Happy Blogiversary to me, happy blogiversary to me...

Thanks for reading, and please brace yourself as This Old Blog enters it's third year. It's late and I work tomorrow, but in the works is a Greatest Hits Collection, just for you!

Hugs and Kisses,

Thursday, December 27, 2007

This Just In: The Lyrics to the 12 Days of Ukranian Christmas Song

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Since most of the traffic in and out of this blog is related to the Christmas carol that I thought was really Saskie-specific, featuring the gem of "5 golden rings...of kielbasa"...I thought I'd do some crafty google searching and find the lyrics.

If there is one thing on the planet that I'm really good at, it's google searching. It's a very big part of my job, this googling. If it's out there, I will find it.

And so, for your happy happy joy joy festivus pleasure, the words to Metro's 11 Days from Christmas Ukranian song...

On the 11th day from Christmas, my Missus gave for me:
Eleven pails of borscht (beet soup)
10 pounds chesnak (garlic)
9 months pregnant
8 all my supper
7 four by two slabs
6 overalls
5 golden rings of kobasa (kielbasa...sausage)
4 holuptchi (cabbage rolls...)
3 rubber boots
2 perogies
and a bowl of sour cream for me

And there you go, internets. To the best of my ability, the answer to your query. Happy Keyword searching!

There Won't Be Snow In Africa This Christmas...

There won't be peace or diet cola, either. This was a much debated song lyric this holiday- was it snow? Or Peace? Or Snow and Peace? And technically, there could be snow in Africa, because they DO have a mountain. Or two. Somesuch.


I survived another Christmas in Yorkton. Too many perogies, not enough diet coke to go around, hours and hours of Mexican Train Dominos, lots of laughs and many many presents.

And now, an annual abridged giftmas inventory:

1 pair of leather lady gloves
1 pair of gold hoop earrings
1 wristwatch
1 teddy bear
3 bath bombs from Lush
1 Raclette grill
1 toothbrush
12 socks
1 tube of toothpaste
1 suitcase
0 Rockstar Boyfriends

And now, I must get back to some very important work- eating cookies and sitting on my rear. Happy Holidays!

Friday, December 21, 2007

I'll Be Home (For Approximately Fourteen Hours Before) Christmas

Friday, December 21, 2007
It's that time of the year again, my friends.

Where my brother Al and I load up the Intrepid with presents and laundry and make our way back across the prairies, setting sail for home in a yacht of a car that at this point is almost older than the kids now licenseable to drive it, not to mention the fact that it is barely road worthy.

We now pause so my mother can hyperventilate.

So in a few short hours, Al and I will bicker our way across the flatlands, stop for coffee and timbits, and I'll fall asleep and he'll slowly pull the car to a stop, point the nose in the direction of the ditch and scream.

Oh, what fun, it is to ride in a four door Chrysler of doom.

So this is it from me, until I get back home, and then ship off to the land of sketchy wifi stolen from my grandma's neighbours (thanks random yorktonners!) and endless perogies. I wish you a festive holiday season.

With love,


Wednesday, December 19, 2007

The Most Un-lady-like Grown Up Lady in the World

Wednesday, December 19, 2007
I have to say, the staff at the Fairmont hotels are always very, very helpful. So conscientious, so sensitive, so willing to bend over backwards to help their guests. It sort of creeps me out, but I could really get used to that level of service- you know, "Can I carry your bag up those two steps, Miss?" or "Can I open the door for you, Miss?" or "Do you need a taxi, Miss?" are standard hotel fare. But at the Fairmont, you get "Would you prefer down or fibre pillows, Miss?", "We've set the radio station in the room to your preference, Miss" and "Can I bring you some tea, Miss?" or the morning wake up call of "Can we send you the weather forecast, Miss?", "Globe and Mail or National Post, Miss?" and the room service "May I pour you a cup of coffee, Miss?".

It's the only time I ever agree to be called Miss. I'm firmly a Ms. kind of gal, but when someone in a red coat and tails, with a fur hat and shiny brass buttons says it, I can't help but be charmed.

Anyway, back to the subject line. So we all know that I have extreme hosiery dysfunction. Yesterday, I was minding my own business, working in Toronto, wearing a cute skirt and tights. Disaster. The tights, they gave up at about 9:15 am. Slowly, they started to roll down my hips, slide down my legs- until I was trying to walk bow-legged, in an attempt to keep them from falling off completely. How something that is designed to be SKIN TIGHT can fall off, I do not know. I don't understand nylon or lycra or whatever the hell tights are made of. Physics. Damn you, science.

So I devised a system that involved hiking the waistband up nearly to my bustline, then pulling the waistband of my skirt down across my hips so it was quite snug. I looked ridiculous. But it was working.

Until about 6:42pm. When I was walking back from the office to pick up my bags.

The tights, they gave up.

I was casually, yet purposefully, striding through the lobby of the hotel, high heels clicking on the marble floor. My tights were not-so-casually, but with an equal amount of purpose, sliding quickly to the same marble floor.

I looked around. I panicked. No powder room in sight.

I looked around. No one was watching. I ducked into a corner.

I stripped off my tights in the lobby of the Royal York Hotel, triumphantly balancing on one, high-heeled foot (because I wasn't taking both my shoes off at once), stripping the tights off my left calf, when I heard someone clear their throat.

"Can you with that, Miss?"

Cue red-coated bellboy, enter stage left.

Cue total loss of Megan's dignity, exit stage right.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Snails See the Benefits, the Beauty in Every Inch

Monday, December 17, 2007
I'm in Toronto. Snapping pictures of my room-service tray, lying cross-ways on the king size bed, using three towels or more. My iPod battery died halfway through the flight and I can't get a certain song out of my head.

And so, I bring to you, a list of things I don't suggest doing after more shots of Jagermeister than one has fingers on their left hand:

1. Email old paramours.
2. Wax your legs.
3. Read Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
4. Check your flight time.
5. Make french toast.
6. Think "I don't need to drink any water! psshhh"
7. Dance on hardwood floors wearing only socks, a beret, and a bathrobe. Well, maybe this one is okay.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Just Checking

Friday, December 14, 2007
Sometimes I think that I'm missing out on a really crucial part of my personal development.

That part of one's life, immediately prior to the quarter-life crisis; you've finished post-secondary education, you have an income, you drink a lot on weekdays and date skinny guys named Geoff that listen to techno music, and you buy too many shoes and miss the rent payment because you owe VISA more than you're willing to admit.

Then I realize yesterday, at about 3:30pm, that I've actually rationalized the following statement:

"If I don't eat dinner, I'll be able to drink more because I won't have to worry about the calories in that beer. AND! If I don't eat, I can just get drunk faster, saving me money! Score!"

This is the point in most trashy early-to-mid-twenties female melodramas where your heroine decides to start smoking, 'just one', with her morning Vodka Tonic.

Maybe I'm not actually missing out on anything.

Good thing that this is just a temporary layover on Hating Fun parade.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Random Bursts of Must-Bloggery

Thursday, December 13, 2007
1. I really dig this video. I also can't get the song out of my head, hence seeking out the video so I could listen to it, and shock, it's pretty swell.

2. I can't figure out how to set my new cell phone to vibrate when it's on silent. Grrr. I need to adopt a pre-teen or somesuch.

3. We finally put up and decorated our tree, one week after dragging the damn thing home, buying three different tree stands, lopping a foot and a half off the bottom, and nearly dehydrating it. This is my first real tree since I was a wee tot. It smells pretty.

4. I am on espresso beverage number 4 today, and fear for my evening of chill drawing and pubbing. I'm wound like a tightly wound somethingorother.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

The Second Triple-Axel to the Right

Tuesday, December 11, 2007
This morning I caught my reflection in the mirror at the office, and something about the combination of green cowl-neck sweater, brown suede boots and my bob haircut pulled back with a headband seemed to scream "Peter Pan!".

And then I thought, "huh, you know who I always think of when I think of Peter Pan?"

Dorothy Hamil.

Ergo, logically, I must be rocking a Dorothy Hamil hairstyle.

And that, my friends, is nooo good.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Breakfast of Chumpions

Monday, December 10, 2007
Scene: Meg's cube, Monday morning, 9:44am

Meg: Hmm. This is a deelishis latte. I can't spell "delicious" because it's Monday and I'm slurring from the weekend of heavy drinking. Those Sunday night tequila shots, they've really got to stop.
(nb: Mom, I'm kidding)

Meg reaches into her large grown-up lady purse.

Meg: Hey! Boy-howdy, a muffin! A blueberry muffin! I love Blueberry Muffins! This is the BEST. MONDAY. EVER!

Meg pulls muffin out of the paper bag.

Meg: Hello, delicious little breakfast pastry friend.

Meg looks adoringly at muffin.

Meg: Wait a second. Did I buy a muffin this morning? Did someone put this muffin in my bag as a special two-weeks-til-christmas surprise?! Maybe I have a secret muffin admirer! Ooh, maybe it's that cute guy from Payroll...

Meg bites into muffin. Pauses. Spits muffin out.

Meg: Nope. This is definitely Friday's muffin.

It's going to be a long, muffinless week.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

I lack entertaining and audience-appropriate stories

Sunday, December 09, 2007
So I'm going to bombard you with another list.

This time, of things I'd like to do in the coming months.

1. Go to Disneyland. Whoot!
2. Take Curling lessons.
3. Organize my closet. Again.
4. Knit another sweater, but one that looks less like a large brick structure and more like something a non-homeless human being could wear.
5. Bake a layer cake.
6. Not kill my houseplants.
7. Throw out several years worth of fashion magazines. Why do I hold on to them? Because you just never know when I might decide to create the world's largest collage. All eyes. All the time.
8. Take a creative writing class of some kind.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Two Truths and a Lie

Tuesday, December 04, 2007
You know that lame icebreaker game, right? The "tell us three things about you- two true and one false and we'll guess which is which!"

Yeah. It's stupid. I hate it. But I'm afraid that in the near future, icebreaker games such as this will become inevitable, and thus, I prepare. Let's play. Here's a set of things about me in threes- two true and one lie for each group. You pick the lies.

Section A
I have dated:
-a lawyer
-a pilot
-a carpet cleaner

Section B
At the U of C, I took at least one class in:
-Greek and Roman Studies
-Music History

Section C
I've travelled to:

Section D
I've had cats named:

Section E
I used to play the:
-French Horn

Section F
I own at least one cd recorded in the late 1990's/early part of this decade by:
-The Spice Girls
-Backstreet Boys
-The Moffats

Well? Guess.

Monday, December 03, 2007

I Definitely Don't Less Than Three The Airport

Monday, December 03, 2007
Thank god I had the foresight to check my departure time.

My flight to Vancouver has now been delayed by over three hours.

At least I'm not stuck in departure lounge hell.

Monday. Again.

It's like every seven days or something. God. Never goes away.

This morning, I woke up early, got in and out of the shower early, and then sat on the end of my bed wrapped in a towel and stared at a spot on my wall for twenty minutes.

I got to work at exactly the same time I do every day.


Saturday, December 01, 2007

Getting Ready for the Office Holiday Party

Saturday, December 01, 2007
Megan: So...what colour should I paint my nails?

Robert: What are the options?

Megan: "Swiss Almond" or "Sweetheart".


Megan: Swiss Almond is a beigy pink. Sweetheart is a pinky beige.

Robert: Gee. I don't know. I'm having trouble with this. They both sound essentially like fleshtone. I don't think you'll have any problems with clashing.

Megan: Exasperated sigh.

Robert: I like the sound of Swiss Almond?

This is going to be a long afternoon.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Why I Might Not (Probably?) Have Children, Reason #453

Friday, November 30, 2007
I don't spend a lot of time with children. I don't know anyone that has them; I don't ever get to see them in their natural habitat. So, much like visiting the python exhibit at the zoo, seeing children in the wild is sort of terrifying. (Because I am terrified of snakes, see one of the 108 things you didn't know about me)

Anyway, it's damn cold here in Calgary, and the wee tots have been wobbling around in parkas and sorel boots and tights on their chubby little legs, with rosy little cheeks and shiny little eyes, and I have to admit, they are kind of adorable.

On Monday, I was taking the number 419 home from work. Sitting in front of me on the bus was a Dad and his little child- who was kind of ambiguously dressed and had one of those androgynous haircuts that are all the rage amongst the hip tween set. Child and dad are playing a game, where they point out things, identify the colour and then name something that rhymes with the colour or the object. Despite the -15 weather, I feel my heart start to warm a bit.

I imagine it felt very similar to what the Grinch experienced when his heart grew three sizes at once. Or heartburn.

Child and dad are sitting there, rhyming away, child getting cuter by the second, and I think to myself- "hey. Maybe I could have one of those, after all"

And then it licked the seat of the bus.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

By definition

Tuesday, November 27, 2007
I had lunch today with two university chums (gag, not named Buffy and Chet, though I will refer to them as that from now on), and on my long elevator ride back up to the office, got to thinking.

Dangerous, that thinking.

Thinking about what, for me, defines success. When will I know that I've made it? That I'm successful? When I have a mortgage? An assistant? A team of assistants? When my office has a door? When I'm married? With a family? Two cars? A small designer breed dog? And a poolboy I mess around with on Tuesdays? What's the bar I'm reaching for, anyway?

And I think, at this particular moment in cubical land, 18 months out of the prestigious Haskayne School of Business at the University of Calgary, after lunching with Buffy and Chet-

I think I'll be successful when I no longer care what people I grew up with or sat beside in lecture think. When I don't define my self by the description that would sound best to them, when I'm not trying to impress or prove something to someone other than myself- when I'm just doing because I want to, or because I couldn't NOT; that's when I'll know I've made it.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

8 Habits of Highly Ineffective Megans

Thursday, November 22, 2007
Damn you, interweb blogging. Okay, so please forgive me while I bring you this specially requested, limited edition version of Things You Don't Know About Megan. Except this time there are only eight of them and some of them you may know.
So here's how this works:

The rules: Each player lists 8 random facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 4 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1. I don't bite my nails. Ever. I also don't chew on the ends of my hair. I think both are disgusting, but I have friends who do these things on the regular. It is all I have to not smack them when we go to movies or plays and they snap their nails with their teeth in the otherwise-silent darkness. But I love those people anyway. I am so benevolent.

2. I started colouring my hair when I was just shy of 14. I stopped a year ago to let my hair return to its natural colour for two reasons: one, I couldn't remember exactly what colour it was, and two, because I know my days as a natural brunette are numbered and while I'd be one hell of a silver fox, I want to milk those dye-free days as long as I can before I start lying about my age.

3. Sometimes I introduce myself to people I don't care to see again as "Sarah". That way, when they stop me on the street or the bus or in Blockbuster, I can be all, 'Oh, no, I'm sorry, you must have confused me with someone else- that's not my name." This is weird because I have now had two different roommates named Sarah. It's a solid name.

4. I never use ALL of the conditioner/shampoo/body wash in the bottle. I always leave just a little bit in the bottle, and buy new product. My theory here is that in the case of emergency, I am ensuring that I will never run out of conditioner. There is nothing worse than having really naturally thick and unruly hair, being halfway through the shower and finding the bottle of creme rinse completely empty. I guess poverty and starving to death with a passel of infants would be worse... oh, I am so shallow.

5. Of all the spreadable cream cheese products, I only like Philadelphia light strawberry cream cheese. And I could probably eat a whole container of it without any vehicle to spread it on- bagels, apples, whatever- but then I would end up the size of a whale. So I don't buy it regularly, but when I do, I take it to work and leave it in the office fridge, because the fact that I am quite concerned that the people I work with would be so shocked and horrified to find me eating strawberry cream cheese by the spoonful is a strong enough deterrent to stop me from eating strawberry cream cheese by the spoonful.

6. Every night before I go to bed I say to whoever is in the house, "Have a good night. See you tomorrow." Be it my parents, roommate, friends, paramour, dog, rented cat- whoever is around to hear it. This is to prevent me from dying in my sleep, because Megans like to keep promises.

7. I always brush my teeth before I have breakfast, which never fails to ruin the experience of citrus fruit or juice. You'd think I'd learn, but alas. No.

8. I never put my laundry away right away- actually, quite often the clothes go from the 'clean' basket to the 'dirty basket' and never see the inside of my dresser drawers. However, when I'm staying in a hotel- which I do all the time now that I'm a frequent business traveller- the very first thing I do after I check in is hang up all of my clothing and put my socks/lingerie in a drawer. Why? Because god forbid the housekeeping staff think I am allergic to hangers. Also, because it makes it feel less like I'm living out of a suitcase and more like I'm a grown-up lady.

I tag:

Jon, who will blog again if it kills me
Snowflake and Senor Ping

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

A Sign of Terminal illness??

Wednesday, November 21, 2007
You know how when you were a little kid and your tummy hurt, or you'd thrown up, or you were just hot and couldn't sleep- how you'd yell from under the covers, "Mom. Mooooom. Maaammmmaaa. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM! MOM" and then finally, "Dad?"

And then your parent, who was enjoying a child-free evening, or maybe even had been deep asleep- would trudge in and make it all better?

Well...Mom? Mom? Maaammammmmaa?

I decided this morning that I would go shopping after work, get a manicure and buy some new shoes. By 4:30, I'd talked myself out of it with the logic that I could paint my own nails and I didn't really need another pair of shoes.

Mom? Mom? I think I'm sick.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Am I A Grown-Up Lady Yet?

Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Today I reached a milestone in my quest for Grown Up Ladyhood. I can't think of a masculine equivalent of standing half naked in a closet-sized room with curtains instead of walls, while a four foot ten eastern european lady feels you up and then shouts the merits of your assets to the rest of the patrons.

I was amazed by her ability to accurately gage something as complicated as bra size (there are two arbitrary measures- numerical and alphabetical, in case you weren't aware) by simply looking me up and down. No measuring tapes or sliding scales required!

But there you go. I think I should get a merit badge for that one.

Stuff I Wish I Knew For Sure

Why the kitchen at work always smells like ham. Or lillies. And why I think that lillies smell like ham, for that matter.

What exactly chapstick is made of.

How it's all going to end.

What to get everyone for Christmas.

Why my profession is frequently chosen as the job of the main character in Chicklit/Romance Novels/Popular TV Shows. Dudes. It's not as sexy as it sounds...

How to get a solid eight hours of sleep every night.

How to calculate derivatives.

If it's really all worth it.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Things to Stop Doing

Sunday, November 18, 2007
Acch, I don't know if I will ever learn.

From this day forward, I swear- no, I vow- to not get quite smug with myself when I determine that things are going well; because we all know that for damn sure, as soon as the smug is released, things will take a terrible, terrible, completely foreseeable turn for the worse and shazam! things turn out shitty anyway and there I was, wasting my limited lifetime alottment of smug.

Happy end of the weekend.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

If You Give Him an Inch

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

More proof that my mixed up metaphors will cause my career and reputation damage- or at least confuse the heck out of people.

Can you help me explain why, when in discussion with some of my colleagues, I shook my head slowly, sighed and said, "well, if you give a mouse a cookie..."?

Monday, November 12, 2007

An Open Letter to the Ladies of The North

Monday, November 12, 2007
Dear Canadian Girls,

I really, really, really don't want to rain on your parade, but we don't get a lot of rain in this part of Canada and they cancelled the Santa Claus Parade in Calgary this year, so boohiss to you.

If the weather is such that it requires you to wear a fur-lined hat with ear flaps, it probably also requires pants.

Just a thought.

Hugs and Kisses,


ps- Tights? They are not pants. Not even when worn under shorts. Cover your upper thighs, for the love of all that is sacred and sartorial. PUT ON SOME DAMN TROUSERS.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Grasping at Straws: 20 More Things You Didn't Care to Know About Megan, But Let's Face it- You Want to Know How This One Ends

Sunday, November 11, 2007
20. I'm afraid of the dark, but only in bathrooms. I am terrified to be in the bathroom without a light on. I will. not. go. in. that. room. without. lightsource.

19. I have a lip gloss/balm/stick/salve/stain addiction. But they always end up the same shade. I have a drawer full of pinkish-red lipgloss. I can't understand why I keep buying lip cosmetic products- perhaps to make myself more kissable? Yeah. Riiight.

18. I hate thumpthump-shiggy-shiggy music. I don't like hip-hop. I'm daring someone out there to prove me wrong and educate me.

17. I may have once driven over my cell phone by accident. I've also left it in a snowbank overnight, put it through the washing machine, and dropped it two stories. The little Nokia, he just keeps ringing. Well, except when it got ran over.

16. I like these smells: vanilla, lavender, musk, brown-sugar, grass, sawdust, grapefruit. I don't like these smells: licorice, gasoline, roses, skunk, axe body spray.

15. My favourite flowers are tulips.

14. I prefer red wine to white and I'm opposed to purchasing wine at the liquor store that costs more than $12 a bottle.

13. I secretly believe that I'll end up alone and childless- not a terrible thing, just a realistic thing. Despite this I have a baby name picked out.

12. I love corn pops, corn chex, corn bran. I hate shreddies.

11. I hate multiple choice quizzes in magazines. I always cheat to end up with the median answer- you know, "not too crazy, not too sane"

10. I prefer to write in blue ballpoint pen, but black non-ballpoint pen.

9. I'm superstitios about throwing out shoes. I don't know what bad luck throwing out shoes could bring, but I cringe when I do it. Hence my enormous shoe collection of ugly, outdated, worn out footwear I never use.

8. I don't think we celebrate Groundhog Day enough in Canada. We should wipe Valentines Day off the calendar and focus on our little season-predicting rodent friend.

7. I think feta cheese tastes funny. Delicious, but funny.

6. I really belive in keeping secrets. If someone tells me something in confidence- it's up there, held in until the day I die. Or, until it becomes common knowledge because the person who it concerns has made it public. That's why I think it's so funny that people at work are hesitant to confide in me- because I'll "alert the media". Right.

5. I have at least five pairs of red shoes.

4. I always use the same bathroom stall at work. If it's occupied, I walk a lap around the office and come back later.

3. When I'm interested in someone- a friend, a romantic interest, whatever- I go out of my way to learn as much as I can about them and what they are interested in so that I can go home and research whatever it is they're into. Then I can drop relevant information into our future conversations. Before you know it, we have bonded over common interests. It's too bad that they're not really organically common interests.

2. I like plain, fat-free yogurt. Possibly the most boring food on the planet.

1. I started this list because I didn't think I could come up with 100 random and pointless things about me. Surprise. I did. And it was hard.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

I'm a Trendy Urban SINK at Starbucks

Saturday, November 10, 2007
That's right. Single Income, No Kids.

Which despite my slight mental waver this week (wherein I phoned my dear friend Robert who was working in Boston at the time and told him that I thought I wanted to have a baby because my life was lacking purpose- he reminded me that I need new pants and that is purposeful enough), I am glad, because I am currently spending my Saturday afternoon in the Starbucks, reading the Globe, surfing the interwebs and sipping a latte.

And it's taking all I've got to not walk over and smack the four year old that's been making a high-pitched beeping noise (seriously, "Beeeeep Beeeeep Beeeeep" out of this child's mouth for the past fifteen minutes, like a bloody car alarm).

I'm going back to sipping my latte. Next time I'm bringing earplugs.

Friday, November 09, 2007

A List: Defining Moments in My Adult Life as of November 9, 2007

Friday, November 09, 2007
In no particular order, really.

  • My first University final exam: Econ 201.
  • The first time I ate sushi.
  • When I realized that I don't really have to be nice to people I don't like.
  • Failing Finance 317.
  • My last University final exam: Greek and Roman Studies 300-something.
  • Signing a year-long lease for a house I can't afford by myself with only my name on it and no roommate at the time.
  • When I got the phone call telling me I'd been hired for my first "real" job.
  • Convocation, November 14, 2006.
  • Quitting my first "real" job.
  • My first business trip- to Toronto.
  • When my mother told me that I was too young for George Clooney.
  • Surprising Call Centre Staff...

    The words that I bet the telemarketer who called me tonight were least expecting to hear?

    "Yes, I would LOVE it if you could upgrade my mobile plan. What? It's twice as much? Yeah, sure, hit me with it. Sign me up. Do what you will. Yep, I consent. Thank you so much for all of your help- I realllllly appreciate it!"

    This is why calling Megans as they bake a cake and drink wine is ultimately the most effective sales pitch EVER.

    (I really did mean to upgrade my bell mobility plan. Seriously. I got rid of my landline. And my cable. It needed to be done.)

    Wednesday, November 07, 2007

    Because Y'all Think I'm Crazy Anyway

    Wednesday, November 07, 2007
    At the risk of giving the blag-o-sphere, everyone who reads this, and anyone who may someday google me the impression that I am, in fact, a crazy psychotic bitch with raging neurosis and an inability to move the fuck on already- I'm going to post this anyway.

    I was clearing space on my hard drive or startup disk or whatever it's called, I'm not Megan from IT, give me a break people. Anyway, I found a folder of unpublished blog entries. (I may have mentioned them before) I've decided, after 24 hours of contemplation, to post one from about 10 months ago.

    Because I think it's well written.

    And because I don't feel this way anymore.

    At least, that's what I tell myself.

    For Your Reading Pleasure:

    I stalk your internet dating profile. It's a casual hobby, you see- I barred myself from doing it regularly because it is slowly driving me absolutely insane. I check about every 6 weeks, maybe once every 2 months.

    Twice this week.

    You logged in yesterday. Before that, February 22. Before that, December 11. I can only assume you like things in multiples of eleven, but yesterday broke the pattern and destroyed that theory.

    I like to know you're still looking. That the fact that you log in potentially means that you're cold and alone in your downtown apartment with the magnificent windows. That you're trying to find someone else to top me; that no one keeps you warm at night, no one listens to you read your stories.

    I also take great solace in knowing that every word on your profile has been ripped from the pages of one of those aforementioned stories. None of your work is original. None of your smooth lines or your angsty-tales; your poetic way of capturing your soul is actually not your work. You stole it. Robbed someone else of their expression. Plagiarized it, which in my fresh-from-the-undergrad mind is a crime worse than any other. The very phrases that made me fall so deeply for you weren't in fact any expression of you- you were hiding behind them, so flat and so dull that you need to steal to make yourself feel interesting.

    But then again, it burns. It is killing me. Because you could be with me, in a heartbeat, but I wasn't enough, and you're searching for someone else.

    I found you out, you stealing, lying, fake son of a bitch.

    Tuesday, November 06, 2007

    not enough, but it'll have to do

    Tuesday, November 06, 2007
    A Round of Apologies, or, If I Was a Better Person, I Could Say It Outloud...

    I"m sorry that I shut you out, that I ignored your calls and avoided you in the hallways. I'm sorry that I let the way that other people looked at you and their incorrect assumptions change my opinion of you. You are brave and bold and I miss having you around.

    I'm sorry that I didn't tell you right away how I felt, because now it feels awkward. I'm sorry that I'm not able to be happy for you- and I'm sorry that I'm not happy for her. I'll try to be, going forward.

    I'm sorry that I haven't called you back. I'm sorry that I missed your party, and that I'll miss another one. I'm sorry that I pretended to be 'out of the service area'. I'm sorry I told you I had other plans. I didn't. I went home. I'm sorry that I lied.

    I'm sorry that I made you feel small. Not physically. I'm sorry I didn't help you celebrate the man you'd become, if we only waited around. I"m sorry I hurt you, and I"m sorry I encouraged them to do the same. I'm sorry that I didn't realize how important you were until it was to late to show it to everyone else.

    I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to know you. I'm sorry that I let time and space come between us, and I'm sorry that I've never sought out answers or stories about you. I'm sorry that I don't have anything to say when asked, and I'm sorry that I don't think about you until it's too late to due your memory justice.

    I'm sorry that I said too much. I'm sorry that you trusted me and I betrayed you. I'm sorry that I shared things that weren't mine to share.

    Reasons to Hate Tuesdays

    Tuesday. The Ugly Stepsister of the week. It's not Monday- but Megan! you say, everyone hates Mondays! True, gentle blog readers, but the truth is that Monday comes with it's very own attitude- a "case of the mondays" is the perfect example. You're not allowed to be crotchety like you are on Mondays; it's totally socially unacceptable to be as grumpy on Tuesday as Monday mornings allow you to be.

    So for these reasons, I will present you with reasons to hate Tuesdays:

    1. Not cheap movie night anymore.
    2. The weekend glow? It's gone, replaced by the wonder and joy of spending the next four days working on your florescent tan.
    3. No one brings snacks in on Tuesdays. Snacks at the workplace? Reserved for Fridays and Mondays ONLY. At least around these parts.
    4. You can't get away with going for happy hour on Tuesdays. People who drink copious amounts of liquor on Tuesdays, well. They have a problem.
    5. It's not acceptable to just cave and order pizza after work- you've worked a whole what, two days? Not acceptable. Monday is a shock to the system, Thursday is almost a celebration, but Tuesday? Nay. You'd better be working on something epic. From Scratch.

    Maybe I'm just grumpy. Maybe it's because I was denied my latte until 10:00 this morning because I had to rush from the train to the office for an 8:30 conference call. Or maybe it's because my outfit is so frumpy that once again I appear to be auditioning for the lead role in the "Sisterhood of the Ill-Fitting Pants".

    Coming soon to a theatre near you. Catch it some Tuesday, at full price. Don't even think about getting free popcorn.

    Monday, November 05, 2007

    Really Cool Things!

    Monday, November 05, 2007
    This really doesn't deserve a plural, but whatever, it's Monday, I'm tired, I've got a belly full of dinner I made-er-heated up and my wine glass is half full.

    But has anyone seen those "grooves" collections on iTunes? Ooh, that's right. the "Essential Soundtracks" for occasions such as Gay Pride Day, Bachelor Party, Apres Ski, and Ladies Tea Party.

    I love it. So easy. So mood-musicy. And now I know exactly what to play at my next Gay Pride Apres Ski Bachelor Party.

    Sunday, November 04, 2007

    Where do you go to, my lovely?

    Sunday, November 04, 2007
    I'm such a grown-up classy lady, lounging in moccasins, drinking wine and thinking about how I really need to post a list but that I don't have anything to put on it, so I'll just continue listening to jazz and drinking wine until I figure it all out. I also need to wash the plate in the sink, do a load of laundry, sort through the hair products in the bathroom and buy some women's socks, but all of that can wait.

    What this lady is going to do right now?

    Continue listening to jazz, drinking wine, and thanking the heavens that she's no longer queasy from eating so much delicious brunch.

    So That's What The Fuss Is All About...


    This Megan is more relaxed than she has been in eons.

    She hasn't had the urge to 'pop down' to the office.

    Or to check her work voicemail.

    In fact, this Megan's cell phone has been off for most of the weekend.

    She was too busy getting buffed, scrubbed, oiled, covered in hot towels, steamed, zapped with a strange electrical device, rubbed down and polished to care.


    Saturday, November 03, 2007

    An Open Letter to the Under-25 Female Club-going Population of Calgary (of which our heroine pretended to be this evening)

    Saturday, November 03, 2007
    Dear Ladies of Calgary,

    Did I miss something?

    I didn't think that it was really that appropo to wear your mom's old high-waisted shorts over a pair of pantyhose, tuck in a stained white tank top and call it an 'outfit'.

    Come now. Fugly ain't the new black.

    Sack up, ho.

    Hugs and kisses,


    ps- I'm just bitter because I spent hours agonizing over what to wear only to leave the house in my usual, the trusty black cardigan. Oh, sigh. I'm so damn old.

    Thursday, November 01, 2007

    Bay Street to West Georgia and Home Again

    Thursday, November 01, 2007
    It feels so good to be back in my own home, with my own personal iBook and in my crappy paint-stained volunteer canada tshirt I sleep in sometimes.

    It feels so good to know that tomorrow morning, I'll wake up and go to my regular starbucks and make eyes at my regular barista and go to my regular floor and use my regular pens. Eat a regular, homemade sandwich (because while tomorrow is Sunterra Friday, my Sunterra Buddy has other things to attend to, so I'll put the delish on hold for this week). Leave the office at a regular time, and come home on my regular route and clean the bathroom.

    Never before has the mundane been so enticing.

    Sunday, October 28, 2007

    Slightly Less than Two Dozen More Things You Don't Know About Megan

    Sunday, October 28, 2007
    20. I looove. Love. Luff. Mexican food.

    19. I spent my 12th birthday in Las Vegas. Where I've been 10 times. (That one doesn't really count because most of you know the frequency of my trips to Vegas)

    18. We once went on a family vacation that included a stop at the ranch where they filmed "Bonanza". The Ponderosa, I think. The trees were really tall. I broke my arm shortly thereafter.

    17. My favourite flavour of ice cream is really good vanilla. Of course, I will never admit to this when asked because I think it reveals that psychologically, I have deep issues. Or that I'm boring. Or some kind of really boring, deeply psychologically depraved individual. Go ahead. Ask me. Betcha an ice cream cone that I'll say Mint Chocolate Chip.

    16. I've worked in a chocolate shop, an ice cream store, a drive-in food joint, for a theatre company, the university, a surface landman and an accounting firm.

    15. I definitely lied about my weight on my driver's license. I use the excuse "I have difficulty converting imperial measurements to metric" far too often.

    14. I'm an aires. And according to the chinese horroscope, a rat. A ram and a rat. I see a pattern, but I can't think of another 'ra-" word.

    13. I count steps as I walk down stairs and cross streets. But I usually only count in multiples of eleven.

    12. I have a mad crush on someone I'm really not supposed to have a crush on.

    11. I would rather just buy new underpants and socks than do laundry, and I follow through with this preference about half the time.

    BREANNE: Don't read this next one, it's about feet and it'll freak you out.

    10. The toenails on my pinky toes frequently fall off. Sometimes I paint directly on the skin where the nail should be so that I don't look like a pinky toe nail-less freak.

    9. I've never had a facial. This is scheduled to change on November 3.

    8. I secretly wonder how I would look as a blonde, and get very close to asking my stylist to make me one every time I sit in that chair.

    7. There are no 'home row' lables left on my keyboard. I learned to type using Mavis Beacon, but while I can properly type with my left hand, my right hand moves around a lot and I only type with my pointer and middle finger.

    6. I can type 65 wpm, more if I try really hard. But then I psyche myself out and mess up.

    5. I don't know if I can do a sommersault- I really want to try but I'm afraid that I'll break my neck. I also want to see if I can do a cartwheel, because I've never been able to do them.

    4. I actually prefer Evian bottled water, but if I was challenged to a blind taste test, I couldn't tell the difference. I'm a total label snob. As if the brand name of my bottled water is really changing my life. How pathetic!

    3. I don't like hollandaise sauce. The wonder of Eggs Benedict is completely lost on me.

    2. I've never tried caviar, and I'm not sure that I ever will.

    1. The only constellations I can identify are Orion, Cassopeia, the Big Dipper and the Southern Cross. My dad used to tell me the myths about constellations when we were camping, and that was always my favourite part of the summer.

    BONUS! When I was little, I thought my dad made up the story of Noah's Ark; he did that booming voice of God so well, I was convinced that it had to be his own work.

    Thursday, October 25, 2007


    Thursday, October 25, 2007
    I walk to work in the mornings.

    When it's too cold or the weather isn't co-operative, or my oufit isn't walking appropriate, I take the train.

    I've talked about it before, this shouldn't be a surprise.

    This morning, the train was overcrowded, as usual. The 7:55 train always seems busier than the rest- because everyone who starts at 8 is always running late? Because people who start at 8:30 try to clock in early? Because there are a quarter of a million people to transport into downtown in a two-hour window, and no matter what time you're commuting, if you're trying to get from point A to B between 7 and 9:30 am, you're not getting a seat?

    But this morning, more crowded than usual, I stepped on to the train and wedged myself into the narrow space beside the door. I placed my palm flat against the cold window, unable to hold on to anything. The train lurched forward and rolled back as it started and the standing commuters shifted together.

    My arm brushed against the woman standing beside me, my chest only a few centimetres from the chest of the man facing me. I could hear him breathing over the soundtrack leaking from the cheap headphones on the kids standing back-to-back behind me, and I realized that aside from family members and personal friends, that this was the closest I'll come to contact with another human being for what I predict to be a very long time.

    Tuesday, October 23, 2007

    First order of Business, Or, How To Be A Grown-up Lady

    Tuesday, October 23, 2007
    Master walking in heels. Snap heel and learn to always carry back-up. Get haircut that requires a blow-out, a flat iron and three seperate styling products. Grow a thicker skin. Invest in skincare regime. Learn to communicate in acronyms. Make risotto. Order room service. Take dictation. Dictate. Delegate. Deglaze. Master pantyhose. Discover run mid-day and learn to always carry backup. Interpret tone of people you've never met. Be diplomatically forceful. Dine alone. Drink alone. Sleep alone. Carry frequent flier cards. Carry-on and pack light. Learn to press pleats, bake layer cakes and balance a chequebook. Pay bills. Carry enough cash for cab fare. One purse inside another. Break a nail. Break a heart. Break down in the bathroom. Study the tax act. Study the man three rows up. Study fall fashion trends. Exfoliate. Buy new music. Forget cell phone charger. Learn to text message at the speed of light. Carry an extra pen. Carry business cards. Send greeting cards. Salutations. Congratulations. Properly punctuate, one space not two no comma after and. Go back to school. Go back to start. Collect two hundred dollars. Pay parking tickets. Fall off treadmill. Flirt with UPS deliveryman. Flirt with Bellhop. Forget best friend's birthday. Send flowers. Save coupons. Monogramed towels. Matching stemware. Host dinner parties. Take hostess gifts. Start from the salad fork on the outside and move in. Never hit 'reply all'. Be careful, chump is what bcc: really means. Match handbag and heels. Get caught in the rain. Forget keys. Forget credit card. Buy gym membership. Furnish home. Put up drapes. 400 thread count. Please, thank you, charmed I'm sure.

    Saturday, October 20, 2007


    Saturday, October 20, 2007
    Tonight is the night.

    The highly anticipated.

    Long awaited.

    Much rumoured.

    Many times planned.


    or,. DOOG, Redux.

    Or, DOOG '07.


    Neil Patrick Harris, you and me? We're on.

    Wednesday, October 17, 2007

    Lux Edmonton

    Wednesday, October 17, 2007
    So I just got home from eating the absolute BEST mashed potatoes I've ever encountered in my life. Seriously.

    The steak was a little on the 'meh' side, but the cheddary, bacony, smooth mashed potatoes? Daaaaaaamn. They tasted like heaven would taste, if heaven was a fat-filled carbohydrate side dish.

    Also? I never thought I'd see the day when I said that a steak that cost about the same as dinner for three at Boston Pizza was on the 'meh' side.

    Also? I've decided to write a book. It's going to be called "When People Mistake You For A Hooker: How to Deal, What to Say and How to Make the Best of It". Followed closely by a sequel called "Why Mr. Right Can't Find You: Sitting Alone At The Bar Makes Him Think You're A Hooker, Genius..."

    Tuesday, October 16, 2007

    Twenty (that makes sixty so far) Things You Probably Already Know (Or, Maybe Don't) About Megan

    Tuesday, October 16, 2007
    20. I hate raw and cooked onions, but I looove onion rings. Usually I pull the onion bits out and just eat the crunchy deep fried bits.

    19. I prefer to drink my diet coke out of a can or from a soda fountain. Bottled pop tastes kind of weird to me.

    18. I had two cats when I was growing up, one we loved (Phantom) and one we don't talk about (Waldo). I think that Waldo was later renamed 'Target Practice', but that claim is unverified.

    17. The first time I ever ate shrimp was the night before I started university. I was 18.

    16. My feet are size 9. I can't figure out which one is bigger than the other like the constantly tell us is normal, so I fear that my symmetrical appendages makes me abnormal. That's just my luck.

    15. The movies I can watch over and over again are High Fidelity- because it's awesome, Love Actually- because it features attractive British people, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding- because it reminds me of my own (albeit non-greek) family.

    14. I used to facilitate workshops at junior leadership conferences about positive self image and healthy lifestyles. Stop laughing. Oh, the irony.

    13. I played the French Horn from grade 5-12.

    12. I went to Science Camp when I was in Junior High. It was all kinds of awesome.

    11. I'm obsessed with the CBC website.

    10. I hate black licorice and black licorice flavoured things. But I like Jagermeister.

    9. I have absolutely no idea what day our garbage pick-up is. Not a clue. I've lived in my house since August 2006.

    8. I think the worst thing you can ever take from someone is what they believe or have faith in.

    7. I was a Brownie but not a Girl Guide.

    6. When I worked at Ye Olde Chocolate Shoppe, I once lied to a customer and told him that Chocolate Pigs were a symbol of undying love to meet my sales quota. Also, because he was all kinds of hot and I wanted his girlfriend to dump him.

    5. I love pineapple on my pizza. I believe that chicken has no place near a pizza pie.

    4. I'm terrified. ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED. of snakes.

    3. I have a frequently reuccuring dream that my teeth are falling out. I also frequently dream about catching my ex boyfriends in bed with this one girl that went to my high school. I wouldn't be surprised if it was actually to happen.

    2. I'm afraid to go back to my hairstylist, who I luff, because I cheated on her and lopped off a considerable amount of hair.

    1. I was on the Bull-a-rama Planning Committee in Ye Olde Home Towne a few years ago and walked with the Rodeo Float in the Parade. In a head-to-toe denim outfit. But no tiara.

    Saturday, October 06, 2007

    Twenty More Things You May or May Not Already Know About Megan

    Saturday, October 06, 2007
    I think I forgot to tell you that this was going to be a 5-part series. Eh. You'll forgive me eventually.

    20. I can't roll the edges of my tongue together to touch. I'm the only person in my family that can't do this. I think it means that they found me on the side of the highway and claimed me as their own.

    19. I currently sleep with four pillows on my bed.

    18. I failed Corporate Finance 317 and had to take it again. Just like most people I know.

    17. The first time I ever ate cucumbers, I was 16.

    16. I'm right-handed.

    15. I've had more than one pet fish commit fishy suicide by jumping out of the bowl or tank.

    14. The first CD I ever bought for myself was "Aquarium" by Aqua. Followed within minutes by that Hanson CD with MmmmBop on it. You are invited to judge me for this all you want.

    13. I was voted "Most Improved Player" on my High School Volleyball team THREE times. This means that I was a shitty volleyball player. But also, that I continued to show improvement. By sitting on the bench a lot.

    12. I have a line from the song 'Halleluhja' engraved on my iPod.

    11. I drink more diet cola in a day then is generally considered healthy. If anything kills me, this will be it.

    10. The last CD I bought was 'Reunion Tour' by The Weakerthans. The last album I bought off iTunes was 'Fallow' by the same band. I'm a bit obsessive when it comes to acquiring a discography.

    9. I don't remember the last time I had a nosebleed. Actually, I don't remember ever having had a nosebleed...

    8. I buy greeting cards, write them out and then never mail them. When I die, they will find hundreds of unsent birthday cards. I find this funny and sad at the same time.

    7. I have no interest in playing any video games, at all. Except for Tetris. Man, I love me some Tetris.

    6. I can do the Canadiana Crossword on in seven minutes, on a good day.

    5. I have a soft spot for grenadine and vodka based beverages.

    4. I have issues with topsheets on beds and would prefer to get rid of them all together, but I'm attempting to be a grown-up lady and apparently grown-up ladies use topsheets.

    3. When I grew up, I wanted to be a marine biologist (can't swim), an ambassador to a foreign embassy (i'm monolingual) or a high-fashion magazine editor (I wear too much polar fleece).

    2. I'm terrified by the concept of a Sex and the City movie, but I'll be there for opening night.

    1. I really thought I wanted to live alone this year, but after a month of mind-numbing, showering with the door open solitude, I realized that I'm not ready.

    Friday, October 05, 2007

    I'll Tell You What I Want, What I Really, Really Want

    Friday, October 05, 2007
    I need to go do something that afterwards makes me high-five someone and scream,

    "Duuuuude! That was AAAAWESOME!"

    Yes. I am a teenage boy circa 1987. SURPRISE!

    Tuesday, October 02, 2007

    Twenty Things You Might Not Know About Megan

    Tuesday, October 02, 2007
    20. I don't take my coffee any particular way. Sometimes, it's with cream, sometimes it's black, sometimes with milk and sugar, sometimes I like a latte or an americano or flavoured or dark roast. But it's never decaf, and it's always hot.

    19. I wrote a letter to a Canadian magazine when I was twelve, challenging an article that stated that in the 1990s, we experienced a 'demise of children's literature.' It was published.

    18. I hate pork. I don't mind eating ham or bacon, but neither of them are my favourites.

    17. My Saint's Name is Margaret. What this means, I couldn't tell you. I did get to pick it. Looking back, I wish there had been a Saint Princess Sparkle Cupcake.

    16. I won the Governor General's medal in Grade 12. My brother also won it in his grad year, and his medal is much prettier.

    15. One of my biggest pet peeves is the word 'pet peeve'. I also hate the way that foam- as in foam mattresses- feels. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.

    14. I have read the entire New Testament three times. Then one day I stopped and haven't picked up a bible since.

    13. Speaking of bibles, I stole one from the church we used to go to. (mom, now would be a time to tell grandma to start praying for my soul...or what's left of it)

    12. I never wear yellow. Not even yellow underwear. I look terrible in it. Sal-low.

    11. I have never dated anyone seriously for longer than three months. For that matter, I'm not sure I've ever been 'serious' about anyone. Except that one time.

    10. Everytime I buy a new toothbrush, I have to make sure that it's a different colour than the last one I bought.

    9. I count silently in my head when I walk up stairs.

    8. I think putting ketchup where it doesn't belong- like, on Macaroni and Cheese- is really disgusting.

    7. Every day I wake up and wonder if I've gone horribly wrong and just don't know it yet.

    6. The only kind of potato chips I really like to eat are plain ripple chips.

    5. I take the dust jackets off books I'm embarrassed to be seen reading in an attempt to look less dumb. This only works when book bindings are subtle and neutral.

    4. The best vacation I've ever been on was with my parents and brother to Florida the summer after I graduated from High School, but I will say at the end of every vacation, "That was the best vacation ever!". I'm lying to myself.

    3. My feet are size 9.

    2. I've broken my left wrist, right arm and collarbone. Not all at once.

    1. I still firmly believe that you should hit the space bar twice after a period.

    Monday, October 01, 2007

    Nursery Rhyming for Adults

    Monday, October 01, 2007
    There once was a girl,
    Who had a little curl,
    Right in the middle of her forehead.

    And when she was good, she was very very good,
    But when she grew up she spent a bloody fortune on hair products to make her bangs lie flat.

    Sunday, September 30, 2007

    Sunday, September 30, 2007
    Last night I dreamt that I was trying to convince everyone that I had written a series of well-known bestselling novels. I cannot decide if this is better or worse than trying to convince everyone that I invented post-it notes.

    Thursday, September 27, 2007

    Air Canada, Your Free Headsets are Le Suck

    Thursday, September 27, 2007
    Dear Parents of Screaming Children,

    Okay. Look. I feel really bad. It's not a natural thing for me to appear that I hate children, and I realize that I'm alienating most of the people in the world, but duuuuude. I swear, I could have killed YOU this afternoon, at about 6:15 pm MST.

    I know that you have to transport your childrens across the country somehow, and lord bless you, you didn't want to drive in the interest of time or your own sanity. But for future reference, I am providing a succinct list of things that need to be considered when travelling with your spawn in cramped quarters with others, in the interest of THEIR time and sanity.

  • Apparently a well-used tactic to appease those babes of yours who have to sit still for more than five minutes is to surprise them with new and different toys at regular intervals during the flight. Cool! New books! A new doll! A hot-wheels for every day of the week! Groovy. Toys that talk, spin, talk, screech, spin with lights, talk, or make noise of any kind are NOT APPROPRIATE. I did not bring a personal set of speakers to listen to an NC-17 Rated movie on the plane, nor am I sujecting you to four hours of Disco Heat Hits. Also, I have an exceptionally short attention span, too, and I sure as hell didn't get any new toys.

  • Asking for nine glasses of apple juice for a child that is approximately knee high to a grasshopper is going to result in several trips with said locust-height child to the bathroom. Unpleasant for you, unpleasant for me because I have to keep moving so you can get past me, unpleasant for the flight attendants who are just trying, for the love of god, to do their jobs.

  • God invented Gravol for a reason. Dope those kids UP.

    Hugs and Kisses,

    Meg, Who Smiled Through Her Pain and Wished for Some Ever-Loving Gravol
  • Tuesday, September 25, 2007

    Bye, Kids!

    Tuesday, September 25, 2007
    This Lady is off to Toronto for some media-trainer training.

    This Lady was told today that she has a good voice for broadcast, which she is interpreting as a completely different thing than being told that she has a good face for radio.

    This Lady still hasn't mastered a day of wearing tights and pumps. Attempt Day Two: Failed.

    Monday, September 24, 2007

    Monday, September 24, 2007
    Today was a challenge.

    Today the line between being a civilized and functioning adult and stripping my tights off in the lobby of my office tower, twirling them around my head and screaming, "take THAT, patriarchy!" became very thin.

    Stupid ill-fitting tights.

    Saturday, September 22, 2007

    Sometimes I Just Don't Learn

    Saturday, September 22, 2007
    About a month ago, I cut off the cable in my house.

    It's funny, i didn't realize exactly how much time I wasted sitting in front of that stupid box, while elsewhere, the world was happening WITHOUT ME. Yes, now that I don't watch television, I'm much more mindful of my time, and use every minute to it's full advantage. Seize the day, Bailey! Live your life! Do something astonishing, and mezmerising, and full of thrill and vigor! Something like...

    Surfing the interwebs. Because that's a worthwhile pursuit if ever there was one.

    Friday, September 21, 2007

    I'm Becoming a Single-Girl Cliche...

    Friday, September 21, 2007
    Dear Cute Blockbuster Guy (not to be confused with Not Cute Blockbuster Guy),

    I'm sorry I couldn't hang around and talk about James Spader movies with you tonight. I seriously would have, if I wasn't so late already in picking up my takeout order from the Tandoori Hut. I mean, that naan is only good hot, y'know?

    And please don't judge me based on my movie choices. I swear to god, I rented The Notebook for someone else. Um, the someone else who occasionally inhabits my body and mind. Okay, I rented it for me, and yes, I've had that damn copy of that stupid Cameron Diaz movie that I didn't even WATCH since February, but dude, your store is like THREE QUARTERS of a BLOCK away from my house! It's so far! I didn't make a fuss about paying the late fees, so uh...wanna hang out sometime?

    Hugs and Kisses,


    PS- How do you stand working with Not Cute Blockbuster Guy? Seriously, does he need to comment on every single movie rented by someone? And does he have to say Kirsten Dunst and then sort of make that weird panting vibrato noise? Like, "ooohhhhhh, Mark Ruffalo" except substitute Kiki's name in there for Mark Ruffalo (oooohhhhh, prrrreeoooowww). Ruffalo.

    PPS- I promise that this time I'll bring my movies back. On time. Ish.

    Thursday, September 20, 2007

    Homemade Pizza!

    Thursday, September 20, 2007
    Is delicious. Especially when you live alone- because you can put whatever the heck you want on there. No weird chicken, or strange sauces (bbq? alfredo? wtf?) or salad-type options. I'm a prairie girl, I want my pizza with meat, cheese, and mushrooms.

    Mmm, pizza.

    I would like to know why the sound of rain makes me feel cold. Why the smell of slightly stale popcorn reminds me of football. Why I can never keep track of the lip balm I carry with me in every pocket.

    Wednesday, September 19, 2007

    Ledge, please?

    Wednesday, September 19, 2007
    I've said it like three times today, to different people, but I feel that it's worth repeating.

    I knew the learning curve would be steep, but this is very much like pressing my nose against a tall vertical wall, with nothing but up and nowhere to stop to catch my breath.

    Thank god for suction cup spiderman powers and a life motto that depends on making bold, marvellous, gloriously catastrophic mistakes.

    In other news, there is nothing better than sliding out of summer (Idon'twannatalkabouthowitsnowedtoday) with one last hit to the Farmers' Market down my street for peaches and blackberries, which then became the most awesome crumble ( know the one...) and which I am currently eating. Mmm, crumbly.

    Tuesday, September 18, 2007

    A Predicament

    Tuesday, September 18, 2007
    Say you get home from out of town at about 9:30pm. Whatever, it could be 8, it could be 11, it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that it's way past dinner time, it's late and you're really tired.

    So you get home, fling off your jacket and put the stuff in your suitcase away and wander into the kitchen. Oh, but nothing lives in the fridge. Surprise! The Kitchen Gnomes did not sneak in while you were gone and refil the fridge with lasagna, or delicious baklava, or anything, really. Nothing in there is appealing, least of which the leftovers from before you yourself left, or the milk that went off while you were away.

    So what does that bring us to? No freezer backups, no bread, no peanut butter. There's a box of KD and some margarine.

    But it's 10:30 pm, and you know that if you eat a box of KD this close to bedtime that you will not be a happy camper.

    But day-am! The last time you ate was at lunch! And airplanes don't have food anymore!

    What to do? Go to bed hungry, or risk the orange-fuelled lucid nightmares?

    Monday, September 17, 2007

    Business Trips for Newbies

    Monday, September 17, 2007
    Things I have learned about business travel so far (please keep in mind that this is only my second time travelling for business, but I'll be doing it often so get used to this theme).

    1. Be really, really, reaaaalllllly nice to the check-in desk people, the concierge and the check-out desk people. Also, the people that deliver your room service, the bellhop, the doormen, and the chambermaids. Because you never know when you're going to have to ask stupid questions, or beg for a free toothbrush because you forgot yours at home (again, for the nine millionth time). Asking for something or looking stupid is forgiven quite quickly when you're a nice person.

    2. The hotel lounge will usually have a jazz piano player, and he appreciates your groovin' as much as you appreciate his tunesin'. So if you dig what he's puttin' down, show it. If not, keep your mouth shut and utilise the in-room minibar.

    3. Things in the in-room minibar cost about eight times their street value. But nothing says "Hey, bitches, I've made it!" like twelve dollars worth of bottled water at eleven pm on a Tuesday night.

    4. Rooms that come with a hair dryer and an ironing board for your use are cool- rooms that come with a robe, an umbrella, and slippers are SUPER cool. And SUPER COOL things don't need to make their way into your suitcase...

    5. On that note, you don't really need to take the little soap home with you.

    6. $25 croissants are just better. Can't explain it. But they are.

    Meg in a Different City

    Hellooo, blogfriends!

    Here I am, writing to you from my hotel room in beautiful downtown Vancouver. I'm wearing a hotel-provided robe, sitting in a swanky hotel-provided chair and about to go down and dine in the ritzy hotel lounge and listen to some hotel-approved jazz. Oh, this is the life, she says, business travel when someone else is paying.

    That said, I was up at 4:30am to catch my flight here, and then worked a solid day with a whirlwind of meetings. Jesus christ, were there a lot of meetings.

    But the Megan is settling in nicely here. I would not be surprised, blogfriends, if perhaps the home base of this blog went west-coast. And soon.

    I'll be back after dinner. Stay tuned.

    Friday, September 14, 2007

    Maybe Happy is the New Black?

    Friday, September 14, 2007
    So what’s the deal with being blasé anyway?

    I feel like anytime something exciting or novel or even just good happens to me, I have to reign in my enthusiasm. When did it become so uncool to be excited?

    For example: let’s say that I’m going on a date with someone. Well, god forbid I get excited and raise my expectations a little! That might jinx it! Or make me look stupid, or like a naïve believer in fairy-tales! While I don’t think that it would be healthy or productive to flounce around in a princess hat (you know, the pointy ones) all day, waiting for Prince Not-Completely-A-Loser to show up on his white steed (maybe those hats look like dunce caps for a reason), I wonder why we have to be so cynical all the time. Why does hope have to be such a bad thing?

    And say we’re doing something new. Like going back to school, or thinking about starting a family, or even planning for a new career. What would be so harmful in hoping for the best? In enjoying what you’re doing? In focusing on the positive parts of the day and the task at hand, not the negatives?

    This is my new challenge: be unabashedly hopeful. Hello, rose coloured glasses, adieu sarcastic smirk.

    This is going to be one hell of a challenge.

    Wednesday, September 12, 2007

    An Ode to My Neighbourhood

    Wednesday, September 12, 2007
    Chockablock full of crazies, and hipsters and underaged kids soliciting for cigarettes and booze; with high end shoppes and ye olde pubbes and three gelato serveries, my neighbourhood is a special place.

    A place where the air smells like cupcakes on my morning walk to work, but by five they're frying fish and chips. I know where the cupcakes live, but the halibut is a mysterious scent. Doesn't matter- my house smells like cheap vanilla candles.

    No matter the weather, there will always be someone parading about in a halter top and miniskirt, or on the flip, a pair of skinny skinny jeans, a leather jacket and a ski touque.

    The houses around mine are built to look old, but they finished construction three weeks ago. My safe little street, stripped of a Christian name and numbered like the others around it is closed on one end to protect the innocents. I'm okay with that.

    When I'm an septuagenarian, I'm spending my days in fiendish wigs and bejewelled sunglasses, drinking espresso con panna and eating artisan cheeses on the street.

    I never want to leave.

    Tuesday, September 11, 2007

    Glamming It Up in the Dairy Case

    Tuesday, September 11, 2007
    On the advice of a friend far enough away to be out of punching arm's reach, I glammed myself up tonight to hit the supermarket, where I planned to purchase my carefully budgeted-for and selected groceries. (I ain't understating, here, I'm broke-five. Only until Friday, though! And apparently my financial situation is also preventing me from using five-dollar words and phrases, like "am not".)

    Well. Never again will I brush my hair and put on lipstick to pick out stewing beef. Sweet Jesus, a freaky old man chased me through the deli, the frozen goods section, and the fish counter! I am not interested in hearing about how your consumption of liver and onions allows you to stay alive despite your "debaucherous lifestyle". Don't you have old ladies you could be out chasing somewhere?

    That's it, I'm officially dying alone. But when I do, I promise I won't chase cute young twenty-somethings through the produce section talking about radiation therapy and my libido.

    Monday, September 10, 2007

    three six five, or thereabouts

    Monday, September 10, 2007
    I can run my fingers over and around the edge and curve and the dips in the piece, but no matter how many times I turn it around or flip it upside down, it won't fit where it's supposed to. The picture isn't complete but I can see enough of it to know what I'm looking at, but not enough of it to understand exactly what it is that I should be looking for.

    I hate jigsaw puzzles.

    Cocktail Hour

    I've decided to bring Cocktail Hour into my life.

    Hey! Don't judge, you. I'm a consenting adult of legal age, and it is well within my rights and freedoms to enjoy a beverage in the comfort of my own Fortress of Smoothitude. I'm not saying that I'm going to get rock-out hosed every night at 5:30, but I feel that a wind-down after a day of examining spreadsheets and reading financial briefs that I only half understand is a good idea. And that wind-down, when paired with some kicky UltraLounge music, is exactly what I need these days.

    Also, I would like to know if anyone else has the following problem, or if it's just me: does anyone else frequently think that the "M" on the washroom door stands for "Megan"? Um, 'cause it's really embarassing and I'd just like to know that I"m not alone in my shame.

    Saturday, September 08, 2007

    Surf the Internets Like it's 1999

    Saturday, September 08, 2007



    I have been without internet access at home (and with limited access at work) for almost two weeks. I feel that this is proof positive that I should continue living in a technologically wired world. I survived, but it wasn't pretty. I played lots of solitare (with real cards!), mopped my kitchen floor so very many times, and actually stooped to reading a copy of Dr. Phil's Love Smart that the woman who used to live in my basement left in our kitchen almost a year ago.

    What have I learned?

    That the internets are really important to the way I live my life and communicate with my network of family, friends, coworkers and other peoples.

    That when I buy a home, it is not going to have white tile floors.

    That even when I play cards by myself, I will invariably lose.

    That Dr Phil is full of shit.

    Sunday, August 26, 2007

    Audios, Amiga.

    Sunday, August 26, 2007
    How do you say Bon Voyage in Spanish, Lauren?

    Well...however you do, know that my life and the Fortress just won't be the same without you. Happy Trails and safe travels.

    Tuesday, August 21, 2007

    Wow...a Week...

    Tuesday, August 21, 2007
    I can't believe I haven't updated this damn blog in a week. Sorry guys. You must have thought I died! (Or, alternatively, you all have lives and didn't even notice)

    I'm in the process of clearing out files and emails at work- deleting a year's worth of forwards, intra-office memos, and "let's go for coffee! now!" notes takes awhile, I have found. Then, because I was on a roll, I decided to tackle my personal inbox.

    I have a problem with deleting emails.

    I don't know what it is or why- I have emails saved from back before the internet was available in colour. Back from when I was in High School. Some of them I save because- well, for example, the email from my cousin Erin that she sent while I was in Quebec, letting me know that her dad was sick. I can't delete it.

    Or the email my friend Jane sent after she left Calgary and had cried all night. She was drunk and in New York City. How could I?

    But I think that there may be reason for me to delete some of them.

    I have kept every single email I have ever sent or received from someone I've dated. Seriously. We're looking at six solid years of courting correspondence- you can track them. It's my history of relationships, laid out neatly, by date and timestamped. And I date. A lot. Never for long, but in high frequency. That's a LOT of email, people.

    Like, over 500 separate emails. Seriously. A lot of them are really funny. Some of them, including the one replying to the email I sent where I tell a certain someone that I'd just rather not see them again- is really funny. But some of them hurt to look at. I can't even open them. I know what they say, I know how I felt when I first received them, and I know that I can never, ever delete them.

    Girlfriend needs more memory space. Or a massive server crash to wipe out all evidence of my past lives. Anyone know someone at Google who could arrange that?

    Tuesday, August 14, 2007

    Note To Self

    Tuesday, August 14, 2007
    Dear Megan,

    Sometimes, despite heavily convincing evidence to the contrary, some people are just 'being nice'.

    Keep it in mind in the future, keep your eggs in more than one basket, yadda yadda, etc.

    Hugs and Kisses and a Smack to the Forehead,


    Friday, August 10, 2007

    You Know What Would Be Good Right Now?

    Friday, August 10, 2007
    A nap.

    A long, snuggly nap. And by snuggly, I mean with myself and a blanket, maybe a pillow; not with another human being to snuggle with. Because I don't snuggle. Gross. Touching someone while sleeping/being touched while sleeping? And you can't get away from them? And they might stop breathing at any given moment? Yuck.

    I would also like some hot cocoa. Which isn't what I ever call it, because in my house we called it Hot Chocolate. And it came from a powdered mix that Mom added marshmallows and hot water to. And we drank it out of green and orange tupperware mugs when we were camping.


    Anyway, I'm not napping, nor am I drinking hot cocoa, instead, I'm trying to remind myself that eating an entire tub of cream cheese will not do my hips any favours. Even if it's delicious strawberry cream cheese.

    Thursday, August 09, 2007

    It's Thursday!

    Thursday, August 09, 2007
    Back at the U of C, prestigious educational institution it is, I had Fridays off. Every Thursday I would roll into my Marketing 465 research class and loudly proclaim, "It's Thursday!" with such great enthusiasm.

    I miss those days. Today I was torn between "oh, Thursday. Couldn't it be Friday already?" and "It's Thursday already? I have so much work to do yet..." Isn't growing up fun?

    Speaking of growing up, here's what's new in my life: New job, soon to be new roommate, new furniture and a new suitcase. Lots and lots of business travel is in my future, friends, so soon I may be blogging at you from such exotic locales as Vancouver, Toronto and Edmonton! Hold on to your hats, yo!

    Monday, August 06, 2007

    Adventures in Laundry

    Monday, August 06, 2007
    Dear Underpants,

    I would just like to know what, exactly, you have against staying near the back of the dryer. Look. I get it, okay? I am also a spotlight seeking attention whore. But I really don't need everyone doing their wash at Ye Olde Neighbourhood Laudromat to know that I have a strong leaning towards hot pink, okay? Just, this once, please let the sheets and pillowcases take centre stage. I thank you for making Sunday washday a little less exciting for the creepy guys that hang out there.


    Wednesday, August 01, 2007

    The Best Advice I've Ever Received

    Wednesday, August 01, 2007
    Compiled list from sources far wiser than me, including but not limited to my parents, my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmothers, coworkers, teachers, Miss Piggy and strangers on the street.

    I before E, except after C.
    Never make your hobby your job.
    When making a living, don't forget to make a life.
    Don't get floor-licking drunk when a guest in someone's home.
    Think before you respond.
    Listen twice as much as you talk.
    Don't eat more than you can lift.
    Ever tried. Ever failed. Never matter. Fail again. Fail better.
    No one buys the cow when they can get the milk for free, but some people are lactose intolerant and that just ain't right.
    Don't take it personally. It's your responsibility, but it's not your fault.

    Monday, July 30, 2007

    Today Would Be a Good Day to Bake a Cake

    Monday, July 30, 2007
    That's what ran through my mind first thing this morning. That was my first thought. Seriously. My alarm hadn't gone off yet, I opened my eyes and thought, "gee. today would be a great day to bake a cake."

    I don't know what is wrong with me, because it's a) too hot to bake a cake b) I can't eat an entire cake (okay, I could, but I shouldn't) and c) today would be a good day to get out of bed and go to work.

    Going back to work after four days of doing absolutely nothing but reading back issues of In Style Magazine and going to the poolside bar at Hotel Arts (swanky!) really is not a lot of fun.

    Friday, July 27, 2007

    Long Long Weekend!

    Friday, July 27, 2007
    So I took yesterday and today off, because I have an excess of vacation time to use before the end of summer. Instead of taking another 10 day vacation and doing something meaningful, I've opted for three long-long-weekends. Smart, right? Inexpensive, for sure, but I can't help but feel like I'm squandering my time off.

    I don't have the resources right now to take off for a real holiday, so here I am, sitting in Bridgeland, drinking a slurpee and reading back issues of In Style magazine. I'm going to do some laundry, lie around by the swimming pool, and play with my hair. That's about it. And wait for the phone to ring. No deadlines, no projects, nada. Just sweet, sweet leisure time.

    If only I could ignore that voice in the back of my head that seems to be demanding productivity, I could really get used to this lifestyle.

    Thursday, July 26, 2007

    I'm Still Alive!

    Thursday, July 26, 2007
    It's been awhile since I updated this here blag, I know. But to tell you the truth, I haven't been doing much. I've been in kind of a funk since Wednesday morning, as I read the Harry Potter book in one sitting, ending several years of suspense in one fell swoop. Now I've got nothing left to live for. I feel so empty. So alone.

    Yeah, and today, not only was the ice cream shop across the street out of the Coconut flavour I was craving, but they also referred to me as "ma'am" several times. I must be getting all fine-liney and saggy or something. Gahd. I'm only 23, and I'm greying and bitching like I'm past my prime. Life, she is not fair.

    Saturday, July 21, 2007

    An Open Letter to the Mallrats at Chinook Centre

    Saturday, July 21, 2007
    Dear Teens Who Hang Out At The Mall (And Loiterers, Meanderers and Slow Walkers in General),

    Listen up, yo. As far as I'm concerned, shopping is a contact sport. I do not appreciate you slowly walking in a ziggity-zag pattern up and down the aisles. I do not want to wait behind you in line for the washroom, where you plan to change clothes because your mom won't let you out of the house wearing what Amber and Dakota and Rosebud or whatever the hell your friends are named are wearing. If you are in my way and refuse to move, I will take you out of my way.

    The rules of the mall are very similar to the rules of the road. Pass on the left. Signal when about to turn or come to an abrupt stop. It is unsafe to oogle cute Steve from the Sunglasses Hut or talk on your cellphone while in motion.

    Follow these rules and I won't have to hurt you. Because if I proved anything today at the mall it is this: if I managed, while carrying three bags, to slip, ballet-flat clad right foot sliding three feet ahead into a near split, falling onto knees and then getting right back up without breaking pace or dropping anything- then surely you can simply keep moving in a foreward direction at a reasonable speed.

    You have been warned.

    Hugs and Kisses,

    ps- And don't think I didn't hear you laughing at me. One day, you'll be old and prone to falling too, punks.

    Coming to You (Partially) Live from Chez Chapmaneroniopolous!

    Housesitting is weird.

    It's kind of like having a vacation home, or a timeshare, but not really.

    You hang out in a friend or relative or even stranger's house for a predetermined amount of time, use their stuff, sit on their furniture and amuse their pets. New houses make strange noises- older houses make even stranger noises- but now that I've figured out how to use the clock radio, I've eliminated the fear that the weird noise coming from the kitchen is either their dead neighbourlady or the token neighbourhood crazy, known here as the "Interloper". Nope, now I can go about reading my Canadian Literature in blissful ignorance of the dangers lurking outside the back door.

    As soon as I finish this, I'm going to venture out to their local Starbucks. Meet some new Baristas, see how the Lattes taste this side of Centre Street. But I probably shouldn't wear my romper, eh? I don't want these new neighbour-types to think that I'm low-classy.

    Thursday, July 19, 2007

    Books, Beverley and B&E

    Thursday, July 19, 2007
    1. I have to finish Barney's Version by Mordecai Richler before, before, BEFORE I start reading Harry Potter 7. I HAVE to. Book Club in on the 30th, but I know that once I start Harry, I won't stop, and I no longer have weeks and weeks of leisure time to read a 791 page book. Thus, I will KEEL anyone who ruins the end of that book for me. I'm SERIOUS, Michael. DO NOT TELL ME. DO NOT SEND ME LINKS WITH SPOILERS. DO NOT HINT, INDICATE or TEASE.

    Or that's it, we're off, broken up forever. This means YOU. (And by YOU, I mean, er, everyone)

    2. They tore down the other ghetto rental unit on my street, making the Hendrix Rental that I live in the sole ghetto rental unit on our uppity yuppity street. I live in shame.

    3. Apparently there was a B&E on the street behind ours (obviously not as classy), but the Police left me a nice note on the door asking us to call them. So I did, and they wanted to know if I had seen any shady characters or suspicious on-goings lately.

    Uh, Officer, Dude, you're calling the Hendrix Rental House. We ARE the shady characters in this neighbourhood. I'm convinced that the man next door is watching us very, very carefully. It certainly doesn't help our situation when the downstairs folk are frequently moving couches in and out of their suite using the windows facing the front lawn.

    Wednesday, July 18, 2007

    I Miss You Already

    Wednesday, July 18, 2007
    Maybe it's the heavy doses of Nyquil talking, but I miss the Familia Chapmaneroniopolous already. Juan and Amanda, fly safe, etc. I'll just be hanging out in your house, looking at photo albums and sobbing quietly into your cushions.

    Monday, July 16, 2007

    Put Your Panties In The Freezer!

    Monday, July 16, 2007
    Was the advice I recieved on how to deal with the gross heat from Thanks, But I Didn't Really Ask You Guy today. Which then freaked me out, because was TBIDRAYG thinking about my underwear? And if so, did he have some weird freezer fetish?

    People scare me. I'm never leaving my extremely hot with inadequate air ventilation and no air conditioning home again.

    Thursday, July 12, 2007

    Stop Judging My Purchases!

    Thursday, July 12, 2007
    I am aware that the McNally Robinson Booksellers Guy and the Wee Book Inn Guy are judging my purchases. They are judging what section I browse through, what area of the store I linger in, whether or not I can pronounce properly authors like "Anais Nin" (can't) or whether I'm buying the Economist (not at this particular moment) or Glamour (guilty as charged).

    I have had enough!

    It is summer! I read intelligent works, honest! I do! But sometimes, a girl just wants to obtain her trashy Danielle Steele novels second-hand so it's not as big a deal when they fall into the pool! Sometimes all I can muster is flipping through a glossy fashion magazine, because it's so damn hot! I swear to you, when it returns to a liveable temperature, I will go back to Mordecai Richler or Haruki Murakami or just about anything else.

    But for now, give me ChickLit, or give me death.

    Also, please give me your phone number. You Judgey Bookselling Guys are pretty hot.

    Wednesday, July 11, 2007

    Thanks, Mom and Dad.

    Wednesday, July 11, 2007
    I just learned that my name (Megan, for those of you who might not be so quick on the uptake....)and the word 'margarine' have the same root.

    The proof:

    "The word margarine comes from the French margarique, derived from the Greek word margaron meaning pearl." CBC Website

    "Megan: pronounced MEG-an, MEE-gan, MAY-gan. It is of Welsh origin. Variant of Margaret (Greek) 'pearl'" Baby Names Website

    Basically, I'm to understand that I was named after a butter substitute that was only made legally available in Canada in 1948, and even then, it musn't be yellow-butter coloured, a ban that was only lifted in 1994?

    Couldn't they have just named me "Spreadable at Fridge Temperature?"

    Seasonally Conflicted

    This happens to me every single year.

    I spend February through May wishing for summer. Longing for summer. Praying that Dear Sweet Lord, it will be summer soon and I can lounge about in fuscia terry cloth drinking sangria and applying aloe to my sunburnt hide. Oh, how the long lazy days and their promise of relaxation drive me through the crappy Canadian winters!

    But then in Mid-July, when the Autumn fashion lines start to hit the stores, when it's been hot for a month with little reprive and I'm forced to choose between stifiling outdoor heat and suffocating indoor heat, all the while wedging my feet into strappy sandals that give me blisters and trying to find a top that won't expose my random tan lines.

    Then I wish for Summer to end, and Fall to start, so I can cozy up with a sweater but still enjoy the sunshine after 5:00pm.

    I guess I'm just never satisfied, am I?

    Monday, July 09, 2007

    So, How 'Bout Those Riders?

    Monday, July 09, 2007

    Tomorrow, in less than 24 hours- I will have watched Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I will have you know that I failed in my elaborate plan to read the book again before I watched the movie- too busy living and sticking my foot in my mouth, you know how it is. But I'm very, very, very excited.

    Did I mention that I'm excited?


    Also, full of smug joy over the 41-point TROMPING that the Stamps suffered at the hands of my Riders this weekend. Hah! Stam-pathetic.

    Sunday, July 08, 2007

    Conversation Topics to Avoid When Trying To Impress or Woo Someone

    Sunday, July 08, 2007
    A few things I have learned through many, many, many awkward encounters:

    1. "My Dad loved his fish more than he loved me, so I killed them".

    This one is pretty self-explanatory. This indicates to your conversational partner that you are psychotic and have high emotional needs. And you will probably kill their pet sometime in the near future, should you become romantically involved and they indicate a preference towards said pet.

    2. "I'm writing a book about the psychotic people I've dated".

    This is seriously a killer should you actually be ON a date. Because then the conversation will naturally progress to the crazy stories one has about the weirdos they may have dated. And then you just look like a loser magnet, and no one wants to share a peanut butter sandwich with a loser magnet. Nope. No one.

    3. "I tried to iron my shirt while I was wearing it. Can you tell?"

    Um...yeah. I've got mad ironing skills.

    4. "My mom made this wine. It goes down faster than a homesick gopher!"

    This doesn't make you sound sophisticated OR quirky. No, you just sound like a home-brew-swilling hick. Move on to some witty commentary about global warming or the latest art house film release. Don't talk about home-brew. Also, don't talk about how you know a humane way to trap gophers. All conversations involving gophers should generally be avoided.

    5. "I have no social life, so, um, I'm pretty much free..."

    No frigging wonder.

    Also to be avoided? Blogging when one has drank a glass shy of an entire bottle of home-brew that their Mom made and two beers. I apologize for any grammatical errors.

    Thursday, July 05, 2007


    Thursday, July 05, 2007
    Oh, the freedom of having no dependants, no obligations and a lazy summer evening. Yesterday, at precisely 3:40ish, I learned of an advance screening of the movie Hairspray, to take place that evening at 7:00.

    Because I don't have children, or pets, a domestic partner or demanding hobbies of any kind, I am free to blow off an evening of sitting in a sweltering house in favour of seeing a movie a full 2 weeks before anyone else.

    And it rocked. The AC was on high, the diet coke was cold, and the movie was full of camp, ratted out hair and an adorably chubby dancing girl. Oh, and some racial politics for fun. And a cross-dressing John Travolta.

    And Christopher Walken. Oh, Christopher Walken. Sigh.

    Wednesday, July 04, 2007


    Wednesday, July 04, 2007

    So, guess who will be basking in an air conditioned den of fantasy in 6 days time watching the new Harry Potter movie before the rest of the normal-people chumps get to see it?!

    That's right.


    But only because I have such hot connections, and my dear friends thought of me when offered ADVANCED SCREENING PASSES to this summer's hottest part-five-of-seven blockbuster!

    Have I made the point that I get to see the movie before normal people do clear yet?

    BECAUSE I GET TO SEE (slightly hottractive in a jailbaity kind of way) HARRY POTTER FIRST!


    Still working on getting an advance copy of Book 7, though. I'll keep you posted.

    Tuesday, July 03, 2007

    I'm Impatient. Deal With It.

    Tuesday, July 03, 2007
    There really is no worse punishment in the world than waiting. Waiting to grow up. Waiting to move out. Waiting for the bloody phone to ring. Waiting for Chapters to ship my book club book (Barney's Version by Mordecai Richler, for those who may be interested. I assume that would be none of you). Waiting for the day to end. Waiting to fall asleep.

    Waiting for the Culligan Man.

    I can't handle it. I know that a watched pot never boils, etc, but come on.

    Ring that phone.

    Monday, July 02, 2007

    An Open Letter to the Whistle-Blowing Child on My Street

    Monday, July 02, 2007
    Okay, Child.

    I understand that it is your right- your well deserved right- to get up and run around in the summertime and eat popsicles and draw sidewalk chalk masterpieces in front of my house. Don't get me wrong- I realise that I am a terrible person for what I am about to say, but that doesn't make it untrue.

    Kid, I'm 23. I'm a single woman, with no intention of procreating at any time in the next ten years, possibly ever. I don't like you out of principle. You scare me. Looking at you is like gaping straight into the future- and looking at your parents, who probably haven't had an adult night on the town with adults and adult conversation and an inevitable trip to the adult-only watering hole? That crushes my soul. I'm not ready to spend my shoe budget on wet naps and swim lessons, and I feel that I am honest and well within MY rights here.

    But I tolerate you. I like living on a street chock a block full of you tykes. I don't walk all over your chalk hopscotch, I enjoy the sounds of your laughter in the twilight, and I frequently yell at people that drive too fast down our street, out of genuine concern for your wellbeing.

    But Child, I am not lying when I tell you that your whistle-blowing and screeching was NOT APPRECIATED before 9am on the MONDAY OF THE LONG WEEKEND HOLIDAY.

    I'm hung over. I was up late. I'm a tired, grumpy bitch, okay?

    Don't make me go yell at you, or even better yet, throw a raging kegger that keeps you up WAAAAY past your bedtime as a way to punish your negligent and likely exhausted parents, because they too are hungover and tired and really wanted to relax on this, the Canada Day Monday Holiday but can't becuase you are OUTSIDE, BLOWING a freaking WHISTLE.

    Hugs and Kisses,

    Bitter Old Meg Who Lives in the Hendrix Rental

    Sunday, July 01, 2007

    My 400th Post-iversary

    Sunday, July 01, 2007
    I never thought I'd get here. Surely my intensely short attention span would have wavered by now, but it appears that years and years of journalling and writing Dear Diaries has paid off with blog longevity in the long run.

    Maybe not for the better, but eh. We do what we can, here in Meg In The City Land.

    I sort of feel like I'm letting you guys down- that in the past few weeks, I've started to give you the impression that all I do these days is sit around and pine for Mr. Darcy, watch ABBA videos on You Tube and occasionally leave the house without showering.

    Not that much more is happening, but out of fear of being dooced or never ever ever dating again, I keep a tight lid on the eternally frustrating/amusing/mundane life I lead. Google is an evil mistress, you know- and in the interest of keeping my reputation spot-free, I can't go into details about the terrible, terrible dates I've been on lately, or how I've become that girl who just doesn't call back- ever, in any situation, ever...or how I have a serious hate-on for certain baristas. No, alas and alack, I have been found out too many times, so I'm watching my back.

    But just for now. I'm sure that within the next little while, after my Mister Darcy obsession wavers and my sunburn flares up and I'm cranky for lack of aloe, and I"ve had another cryptic dream about choosing the death of a hollywood heartthrob over the loss of a canadian sports team, I'll be back on my game.

    Until then, friends, you're just going to have to live with song lyrics and you tube links. Because if I open my mouth now, I swear, the words aren't going to stop and then this blog will have to go away forever.

    And ever and ever and ever.

    Friday, June 29, 2007

    Maybe Someday We Can Rock the Suburbs Together?

    Friday, June 29, 2007
    Ben Folds - The Luckiest

    I don't get many things right the first time
    In fact, I am told that a lot
    Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
    Brought me here

    And where was I before the day
    That I first saw your lovely face?
    Now I see it everyday
    And I know

    That I am
    I am
    I am
    The luckiest

    What if I'd been born fifty years before you
    In a house on a street where you lived?
    Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike
    Would I know?

    And in a white sea of eyes
    I see one pair that I recognize
    And I know

    That I am
    I am
    I am
    The luckiest

    I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you

    Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties
    And one day passed away in his sleep
    And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
    And passed away

    I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong
    That I know

    That I am
    I am
    I am
    The luckiest

    Tuesday, June 26, 2007

    Epic List of Summer Activities

    Tuesday, June 26, 2007
    Following is a list of epic activities and goals I hope to accomplish before the sun sets on September 21st.

    -have picnic in park while watching Shakespeare in the Park.
    -make freezer jam.
    -empty freezer so as to have room for aforementioned freezer jam.
    -spend an afternoon at the pool on 5th avenue, reading summer murder mystery novels and drinking contraband liquor out of a Powerade bottle. (My dad taught me that sneaky trick in Vegas)
    -host an epic BBQ and Yahtzee tournament. Possibly not at my house, because my BBQ is pretty small. Unless everyone doesn't have a problem eating in shifts.
    -read Pride and Prejudice.
    -Go to a Stamps game, or if Stamps tickets prove too expensive, a Vipers game. Eat peanuts and drink cheap beer. Heckle.
    -eat so many freezies that my tongue turns bright blue.
    -figure out how to set my hair into a 60's style bouffant. Apply excess amounts of eyeliner. Go goldigging at the poolside bar at Hotel Arts.
    -Wear large floppy hats while eating lobster mac and cheese on the patio at the Met on 17th Ave.
    -Do tequila shots. Buy blender so as to make blender drinks from Tequila to prevent one from having to do more than one tequila shot. Make friends with cute boys from across the street using blender drinks as a bribe.
    -Play at least one round of minigolf. Ditto with bocce ball.

    Any suggestions for Summertime Fun in Calgarah? I hate the Stampede, so any suggestions regarding Cowboys (the bar or the stereotype) will not be taken into consideration.

    Oh, Mister Darcy...

    Thanks, Amanda, for fueling my new obsession. One Colin Firth, playing the long-looks, determined-striding Mr. Darcy. It takes a strong woman to watch a five and a half hour movie three times in one week, and while I'll never be that strong, I can only thank you for introducing me to the perfect love story.

    I'm going to go wander around a park and wear a bonnet now, because maybe, if I'm really, really, really lucky, some dark-haired, top-hat-and-johdpurs-wearing guy will see me and first have great disdain and then great admiration for my person.

    Friday, June 22, 2007

    I Less Than Three ABBA!

    Friday, June 22, 2007
    That's right.


    How could you not?

    Thursday, June 21, 2007

    Happy Summer!

    Thursday, June 21, 2007
    I'm going to Mamma Mia! tonight with my mom, yippee and hurrah!

    I'm very excited. But I also feel like a disco nap might be required before a hot evening of ABBA tunes. Unfortunately, working this thing I've got called a 'job' requires that I spend at least a few, usually around eight, hours during the daytime at this place they like to call an 'office'. So after I leave for the day, scramble home to make sure that my parents don't discover the true horror that is the stack of dishes drying in the sink and the overwhelming pile of unpaid bills that lurk behind every corner at Chez Nude...there will be no time to sneak in a little nap action.

    Le sigh. Hopefully I don't fall asleep like I did during my second viewing of 'Knocked Up'. I have a wicked short attention span, gahd, and sitting in the dark like that makes me soo sleeeeepy...

    Tuesday, June 19, 2007

    I Swear To God, if My Ex-Boyfriend Didn't Post This, I'm a Monkey's Uncle

    Tuesday, June 19, 2007
    I need an unstable woman for a drama filled relationship - 25

    Reply to: random
    Date: 2007-05-28, 4:48AM MDT

    Hi there,

    I'm seeking a like-minded woman to share a disastrous 3-9 month relationship with, ending in acrimony, emotional chaos, and possibly legal proceedings.

    I'm 25 years old, quite knowledgeable, I hold down a decent job and am pretty random. I'm told I'm fairly good looking with a good sense of humour, but I'll let you be the judge of that - I'm also very caring and honest.

    I am looking for an attractive female who will at first give me obsessive love, praise and devotion - but whose paranoia, self-loathing and fear of rejection and abandonment will eventually lead her to alternately push me away and pull me closer in a love/hate cycle that will lead to infidelity, consensual sexual violence, and the eventual emotional breakdown of one or other party - or if we're lucky - both!

    You should:

    * be 20 to 35 years old;
    * have a history of short, intense, drama-driven relationships;
    * enjoy degrading and dehumanizing sex;
    * have undergone negative psychiatric evaluations in the past; and
    * be willing to threaten self-harm and/or annihilation as a weapon to control your partner and make them stay with you and care for you.

    Although not completely necessary, I would prefer women:

    * with nice smiles;
    * that have larger than average breasts;
    * who are married or already in unstable relationships;
    * that drink to forget; and
    * who have had a previous established diagnosis of Borderline or Dependent Personality Disorder or Bi-Polar Affective Disorder - or who are currently taking Lithium Carbonate, SSRIs, or Tri-cyclic antidepressants

    If you think you meet these requirements (and wow, I'm getting excited just writing them!), please don't hesitate to get back to me as soon as possible. In the meantime, thank you for reading my advert, and do take care.

    I'm not kidding. Seriously. I dated this guy. I SWEAR. I'm 97% positive.

    Monday, June 18, 2007

    Tough Decisions

    Monday, June 18, 2007
    While I was on vacation, i had a dream that I still can't shake.

    I dreamt that the Riders won the Grey Cup, but in exchange for that fantastic feat, the Universe killed George Clooney.

    I had to decide which option I wanted- a victorious team, or the life of the hottest man alive spared. It was one of the toughest decisions I've ever made.

    I was reminded of this when I told the story tonight at Higher Ground, while I was enjoying a creamy London Fog.

    I have this friend, who I see quite irregularly, and we bring out the absolute worst in each other. The absolute worst. We get about ten minutes of polite conversation in, and then the insults and inside jokes and cutting remarks start to fly. I know his most scandalous of stories, and unfortunately, he knows mine.

    The problem is exactly that we are trying to out-do each other infront of new company; when it's just the two of us, or the two of us and a select few other people, we can carry on like normal individuals. But in front of a group, it's a giant insult Battle Royale. I'm trying to change...but really, the verbal banter is so much fun!

    Of course I picked the Riders! What kind of Saskatchewanian would I be if I didn't?

    Well, I do Declare...

    I've got to figure out what to wear tomorrow.

    I'm going to the CTV Season Launch party, and I have to pick an appropriate outfit. Knowing my personal history of fashion disasters, largely-inappropriate choices and crippling inability to make decisions, I'd like your help.

    Option A, or Casual Summer Look! consists of a white skirt with navy and red floral pattern, a red v-neck top and red shoes. Some sort of accesorizing may occur. Or not.

    Option B, or Dressy Mc-Dressy Pants is the black shirt dress I wore to my parents' party, and Robert's birthday. Also to the Blind Monk for drinks post-Robert's swanky birthday. Also will be worn? Polka-dotty heels of some sort. And some bracelets.

    Option C, or First-date/Girls' Night/Not Trying Too Hard, Not Wearing a Bathrobe Ensemble is a black top with jeans and heels. Also, a necklace.


    For the love of god...