Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Maybe It's Time To Reconsider...

Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Looks like I might be moving again. My partner-in-crime is off to greener (literally) pastures, so before May, I must a)find someone new to move into the Fortress of Smoothitude or b)find a new Fortress of Smoothitude.

I started a prelim search yesterday, and now have to decide if living in a 324 square foot studio and paying $950 a month goes against the grain of my moral fibre (and pocketbook). That's a $400 increase a month, and a decrease of approximately, oh, 6 rooms.

Maybe it's time to start looking at moving. Moving away from this boomtown. Maybe my funk (that seems to have slowly crept back, despite constant downward-pushing efforts in my soul) is partly due to the fact that I maybe don't really feel like I belong here in Calgary.

Maybe if it would stop freaking snowing, the rental rates would go down, my salary would go up- nah. Pipe dreams.

Does anyone out there know how one young canuck publicist might go about looking for greener, warmer and cheaper pastures?

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

An Open Letter To The Residents of Beverly Street

Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Hello, friendly neigbours:

I love living on a street with you. Your children are not noisy, your cats only occasionally attempt to gain access to my abode, you do not throw rukus parties and in general, you are not asshats.

However. Living on a closed street does offer some challenges- particularly when you drive a car that requires advanced yacht captaining skills.

To the dude that INSISTS on parking his big-ass truck at the end of the street, where most normal residents that drive turn around (as it's a closed street and none of us are ballsy enough to bust through the iron gate onto Kensington Road, smashing glass and scratching aluminum siding as we go), please notice the DO NOT PARK ON THIS SIDE OF THE SIGN sign.

That octagon (you know, the thing that looks like a stop sign? has 8 sides?) with a cross through it (you know, like in a no smoking sign, one I assume you ignore, because your truck gives me the impression that you feel you are a badass?)and an arrow? (you know, to indicate one side of the sign versus the other?)

THAT MEANS NO PARKING ON THE SIDE OF THE SIGN INDICATED BY THE ARROW.

Your jerkish behaviour will result in me keying or backing into the side of your truck, possibly while screaming, "take that, assclown!"

Hugs and Kisses,

Meg

ps- Who drives a mother of a truck and lives on a side street in a largely pedestrian inner-city neigbourhood, anyway? Hosers.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Bad-weather Blog Blahs

Monday, February 26, 2007
Word around the office on Saturday night was that we've all been too busy to get the February Blahs- and it's true. I'm almost shocked that it's nearly March, that Old Navy has shorts and bikinis on their website (because I'm too busy to actually make it to the store to see for myself) and that Spring is apparently very close to the sprung point.

I'll believe it when I can prance around outside, bare-legged and fancy-free.

I wish I had more interesting things to blog about- but I'm stuck in a terrible, terrible rut. I could compose a rant about seeing he who shall not be named yesterday from across the street- I'd recognize his tacky, tacky vehicle anywhere- but I won't. I could write about how shocked and moderately appauled I was to hear that my parents' vacation 'home' was aflame in the middle of the night and that I had to hear about it via their blog, but I've gotten over it. I could go on and on endlessly about how glad I am that I'm no longer a tweenager- but most of the time I'm no more mature than the average teen anyway- and equally as angsty.

Spring will spring, the snow will melt, time will pass and rest assured, I will keep on bloggin'- but I sure hope something of merit occurs before too long, lest I bore you all to pieces.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

I Need...

Saturday, February 24, 2007
In the following order:

1. Sleep
2. Food
3. More comfortable footwear


As soon as humanly possible.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Oh Crap! I'm An Adult! Or, If You Pluck It, 10 More Will Come to Its Funeral

Thursday, February 22, 2007
I found my first grey hair today.

Now, I was tragically mistaken a few years ago when I was convinced that my shaggy mop was starting to go the way of the silver fox- but my stylist quickly corrected me, eliminating my panic with a reassuring "that's just your natural hair colour in your roots. Let's go dark dark brunette!!"

There is no tragic mistake or reassuring statement to be made today. I have found, in the crown of my overdue for a trim and dye job 'do, a shining, glaring white hair, rearing its ugly little strandy head and reminding me of my immortality, impending crows feet and eventual inability to wear trampy, 'follow me home and play scrabble with me' shoes because of bunions and fallen arches.

I blame my job. I'm too young for this! The next thing you know, the girls will be hanging out south of the border, and I'll be booking myself in for a bi-monthly Botox shot!

Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn.

Pirates! (pronounced pie-raa-tees)

Yarr, matey. My spine, she is brusied. My core, she is buffed. I posed like a salty mermaid.

yarr. Amanda, you were missed.

Joan, you are an inspiration.

yarr.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Random Things I Thought Today

Tuesday, February 20, 2007
"Perhaps I should be bitchier. Men like bitchy women, don't they? Right? Clearly I'm too nice."

"What was I just thinking? Obviously being nice is the answer. Nice people finish first, or something. Bitchier is not the answer here."

"Mmm, pancakes. I wish I hadn't bought that entire package of smokies, because now I'll have to eat 6 of them, dammit. Gross. I wish they sold them individually for decent price. And those hoagie buns definitely are too large for the smokies- I'll have to cut the ends off, and that throws off my whole groove. Maybe I'll just have cereal...no, pancakes."

"Hold Me Closer, Tony Daaaanza"

"Do I have any new emails yet? Gmail Notifier must be lying to me. Let me check it again. Nope. Maybe now? Nope. Damn...what about now?"

"I wonder how many hops on one foot it takes to get from one end of my house to the other? I'm guessing...17. Pretty close...but they're long hops. Let's try that again. 23 short hops."

"bass players. drooool. bass playing bass players capable of multitasking. groowwwl."

"This OK Go song is rocking. Fishnets and malice. Whoot."

"Oookay, Megan, form COMPLETE SENTENCES. You can do this. Breathe. Breathe. Ohshitthat'snotacompletesentencelookatthefloorlookatthefloor...okay. He's gone. Keep looking at the floor. KEEP LOOKING AT THE FLOOR. Don't forget to breathe."

"Any new emails? No? God, are my parents/friends/family members all ignoring me?! Must be because I'm not bitchy enough."

Man, my life is CAPTIVATING.

More Breakfast for Dinner!

Check this out for the gritty details.

And by gritty, I mean delicious.

Shrove Tuesday

You know what that means?

PANCAKES FOR DINNER!

See, this whole Breakfast-For-Dinner in 2007 is going to work out really well for me. However, Shrove Tuesday (or Fat Tuesday, I suppose, if you want to be all hip) also means that Lent starts tomorrow. Kent- since you're all up on cultural experiences, maybe you want to try this one?

What should I give up for 40 days? Past Lenten Fasts have included Chocolate, all forms of Junk Food, Sex (but that was shut down- apparently it's cheating to give up something you're not having...) and practicing the piano. I'm thinking either giving up buying lunches or Starbucks.

What do you think, oh wise blogreaders? What vice do I have that I should attempt to knock off for 40 days? (Please don't say boozing. It's going to be a loooong 40 days, and my birthday occurs before Lent is over...)

Monday, February 19, 2007

Christmas Gift Cards

Monday, February 19, 2007
I think I've finally found a compact disc worthy of my HMV Gift Card, the first gift card I have ever recieved, that was gifted to me on Christmas by my cousin Austin. I think I'll be purchasing the new Shins album. Yes. Sounds good.

Anywho, it's another Monday, same as all Mondays, except for the fact that today is a Stat holiday, and the trains are running on the Sunday schedule, and the streets are pretty much empty, and the coffee shops are closed (thank god the Starbucks in the Marriott isn't!!).

But I'm in the office.

Whoo-hoo!

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Pretty Eyes, Pirate Smile...

Sunday, February 18, 2007
Whew. That weekend flew by at nearly breakneck speed.

Today, I realized that I am in fact, a picture of perfect health.

If perfect health eats eggos and sprite for dinner, at 10:00pm, while on the phone with their grandmother.

Yes, that is the summation of my life. I eat frozen breakfast foods and soda while talking to those who are, if not contractually, at least morally bound to love me. And while eating frozen waffles (that weren't really thawed completely in the cooking process), I realized that this lifestyle works for me.

So that's it. Breakfast Foods Only in the remainder of 2007. Sounds like a solid, reasonable, and attainable plan.


Oh, and Amanda?

Still thinking about it.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

To The Beat Of My Own Pop Song...

Thursday, February 15, 2007
Of late, I've had the strangest songs stuck in my head. The following is far from a comprehensive list; more like a tantalizing taste of what runs through my head during waking hours.

-Springtime For Hitler
-We Didn't Start The Fire
-Dear Prudence
-Million Ways To Be Cruel
-Back In The USSR
-Sing Me Spanish Techno
-Walk On The Wild Side
-St Patrick's Day

I'm not trying to figure out what that all means, because I don't belive my random song stuckage means anything. Now if only I could stop fantasizing about bass players...

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Happy Sugar Hangover Day

Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Okay. I'm always a bit bitter today, but you know that takes so much energy, and why dwell on the fact that I'll probably still be single this time next year, and likely the year after that, and then the year after that, too...so instead, I will offer a list of things that I'll be doing to celebrate Valentine's Day.

1. Listening to CBC Radio 3. Nobody does cynical unrequitedness like indie rockers. Much better than the only other option that appeals to me right now, and I left my John Mayer CD at home...

2. Reading up on Salman Rushdie and The Satanic Verses. Again, nothing says "I Love You, Now Be Condemned to Death" like a good Valentine's Day fatwa.

3. Sailing the high seas with Amanda, Joan and Johnny Depp. And pretending that I have some level of core strength.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Sooo....what's new?

Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Eh? Eh?

Those are some mad Japanese-postcard style photoshop skills, non?

An Open Letter to Calgary Transit

I feel that this is an important enough topic that I'm dedicating my very special 300th post to the subject.

Dear Powers-that-Be at Calgary Transit:

I get it. I understand that this city is freaking huge, and that the hundreds of thousands of us that ride the train and busses every morning result in more wear and tear and mechanical breakdown than you may have dealt with in the past. I also understand that living in a northern climate with bizzaro weather contributes to weird road conditions, mechanical failure and idiots getting hit by the train on a regular basis and that is generally out of your control.

However.

If the train breaks down one more time this week (and it is but TUESDAY) and I am forced to a) wait in the -29 degree weather for 25 minutes while my mascara drips down my face because the snow is blowing and I ran out of waterproof b) get across the river only to discover that the train is broken and then I have to get off the sardine-like packed train and walk 10 blocks through downtown resulting in me arriving late for work (I have things to do, y'know, like reading the paper and checking my email and writing on my blog and attending meetings and starbucks runs) or c) get stuck under the armpit of a stinky, stinky man who was clearly relased from the Drunk Tank but moments before while I am awkwardly groped from behind by someone I've never met, who is just as embarassed as I am because the train is SO DAMN PACKED that we have to share the same space on practically a molecular level...

I think I'll off myself.

Now, I love having the option of taking the train. Driving to work is for suckers, suckers who either a) have lots of money to burn b) hate the environment c) have an employer who pays for their parking or d) live or work or both in an area of town that isn't transit accessible. I am none of the above, but you're starting to make me wish that I was.

Just yesterday I swore that given the option to direct my tax dollars, tranist would get the majority. I'd gladly re-direct the funding from hockey rinks and alderman vacations and elementary schools (ooh, I'm a bad person...) to transit. But you are not helping your cause, oh transit...you are merely frustrating the masses who get hell because they show up late for work TWO CONSECUTIVE DAYS in a row because of you.

FIX YOUR PROBLEMS. I'M IRATE. FIX IT. FIX IT YESTERDAY.

Hugs and Kisses,

Meg

Monday, February 12, 2007

Snow Day

Monday, February 12, 2007
How I wish for a snow day. If it has to be so damn persistant about the cold and the snow, I shouldn't have to leave my house. I think that the only reasonable solution to weather like this is not leaving one's bed, and cozying up with whatever you've got to keep you warm (gin? tea? yellow bathrobes? hot water bottles? down comforters? male models named Xander?) and survey the contenders for the Great Canadian Novel.

If I'm not going to write it- as my writing attempts seem to have come to a grinding halt- I'm sure going to find it.

Oh, and I would like to add that my major accomplishments this weekend, aside from charring (and yet maintaining a raw centre) half a dozen pancakes, watching the entire first season of The Office, and listening to over 8 hours of John Mayer (why do I do this to myself?!) include having an entire conversation with a straight dude that I find attractive. Not that it's ever going to go anywhere- hellloooo, I swore off dating after the 'your shit is occupying valuable space on my nightstand, can you come pick it up' incident, remember?- but at least I managed to form relatively complete sentences.

Yay for me.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

My Catholic Conscience

Sunday, February 11, 2007
I can't help it- sometimes, I just get my back up about certain things that just don't sit well.

Like drinking 48 'borrowed' sodas, marketing individually-wrapped cigarettes to 'social smokers', giving people who are really sweet hell, even if it's deserved, not giving people who are really sweet hell, despite the fact that they deserve it, breaking the spines of borrowed books, not stopping to give lost tourists directions, and the fact that despite my guilt, I'm not going to stop doing all of the above.

Except maybe marketing individually-wrapped cigarettes to teenagers.

I thought that Groundhog said spring was a'comin!

Oh god, I am so cold. ATCO gas came this morning while I was still mostly unconcious and dreaming about John Mayer and replaced something to do with our gas line, so the furnace had to be turned off. We just turned it back on again, and I am so cold. My feet are freeeezing! I'd love to go hide in starbucks, but I am absolutely broke until I get paid again on Thursday, so I'll just run some Nescafe through the drip machine and keep warm with the heat from my laptop battery.

My parents took off today for lands south of the border, and I am so jealous. Will it ever stop snowing here? Is it ever going to be spring again? I'd kill for a good chinook- and I won't even complain about the pressure headaches, I swear! Just please, melt away the snow and turn the grass green again...

But until that happens, I'll just curl up and dream about patio season.

None to go!

I made it. I made it through a week of openings and am still in reasonably good shape. 4 nights, 4 outfits, 3 specialty drinks that tasted like High School, All-Inclusive and Grape Juice. Tonight I attempted to trade a yak and a son for a bottle of gin and (eventually and through many transactions) the drummer from a local band, but I can't say I was all too successful.

I am so thankful that I have tomorrow off, and I plan on spending it with Margaret Atwood.

I have also found the way to make many friends: have a purse full of free drink tickets at the bar. What people won't do for free booze...

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Three Down.

Saturday, February 10, 2007
One more to go.

I don't know if I can physically handle any more schmoozing and specialty drinks. Bah, who am I kidding- I was made for schmoozing and specialty drinks!

I had an entire blog post written this afternoon about how I've always done things in my life that I'm not terribly good at. I'm a stick-it-outter. I was a terrible, terrible figure skater. I played basketball for 7 years-correction, sat on the bench for 7 years. French horn I struggled through, never quite good enough to really play the pieces I was playing. I went to business school, when I probably should have passed on the calculus and finance and headed straight for liberal arts. I even pretended to act for awhile, but who was I kidding...and let's not get started on my yoga-hip hop dance-pole dancing-soon, pilates endeavors. Maybe I'm just so used to sticking things out and trying really hard that I've neglected one important thing:

Maybe I'm not actually that good at this, and should stop now.

Sigh.

That was the coles notes version of an extremely whiny, self-deprecating and tear-sodden post I had scripted but deleted. Aren't you all glad I just saved you the trouble?

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Party All The Time

Thursday, February 08, 2007
Tonight is another work party. It's a party all the time, babies- appies, tunes, diet cola and sweet champagne flowing freely through the lobby of the Cohen. I'm dead tired and wearing possibly the most unattractive combination of tweed, sequins, lace and polar fleece known to mankind- but tomorrow, we'll get up and do it all over again. And then again on Saturday.

This morning, Matt at reception called me and told me that there had been a delivery and there were flowers at the front desk for me.



Well, not really for me. But they were addressed to me. So I could hand them out to the people they were really for.

No secret admirers or somebodies to love yet, it appears.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

It's My Media Call, And I'll Cry In The Bathroom If I Have To.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Today, my worst (well, at the moment) work-related nightmare actually happened, in real time, executed with precision.

I held a media call (where cameras and newspeople and the such show up and interview actors and directors and film a scene from the play). It needs to be carried out with military-like timing, right down to the letter, and is planned months or weeks in advance.

That is, until real news happens down the street and all of the cameras fail to show up.

Then the publicist is left to explain to everyone that no one is coming, and it's a fourteenth birthday party all over again, when no guests arrive, and I'm left to blow out the candles alone.

Fortunately, everyone was really understanding and I held it together, for the sake of my lucky polka-dot dress.

And I didn't even cry in the bathroom.

In other news, one play open, three more to go this week!

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

C'mon, You Can't Deny It...

Tuesday, February 06, 2007
You're also ready for the disco comeback. If my previous post didn't persuade you, let me list a few other awesome disco-related things:

-Platform shoes. Who doesn't want to appear 3 or 4 inches taller? It would reduce the need for stepladders, and I'm forever having to put up posters and crap at work or reach stuff off the top shelf of the pantry at home because I'm the tallest. Platforms are stable, and sometimes you can get them with flashing lights, sparkles, or a place to store your goldfish built right in!

-Falsetto. Don't argue. Everyone loves a high-pitched singing dude. Everyone.

-In some parts of the States, my beloved poutine is called "disco fries". Hel-lo, can't go wrong.

-I can start using the phrase "I need to take a disco nap" more often than I already try to.

-No flat ironing necessary. Or, alternatively, flat ironing using a real-usually-for-clothing iron on special occasions!

-Light-up dance floors.

-A possible resurgance of Roller Disco to follow the new Disco Inferno.

- I can sing "Can Anybody Find Me Somebody To Love" out loud, often, without looking like a desperate loser who really is pleading with the general population to find her somebody to love, goddamnit, because she's got love to give but no one to give it to, unlike the polyamourous So-and-Sos who have all kiiiiinds of love and all kiiiinds of people to dole it out to and are clearly hogging more than their share of the limited dating pool, and one can't very well love someone who doesn't know their name or someone who knows their name but that they are too afraid to talk to for fear of nattering on in endless runon sentences about cheese and Queen and something ridiculous like "how do I know if I cooked this gnocchi properly? I've never had gnocchi before!".

But I digress.

I'm going to keep pushing this until the rest of society gives in.

Hurricane playRites

My desk feels like it's closing in on me. Multi-coloured neon post-its dangle precariously off every imaginable and available surface. My vertical media file explodes, back issues for archival purposes of random Canadian publications stuffed in haphazardly. Three coffee mugs live around my computer screen, two far above my line of sight. Pens, pencils, notes scribbled on the back of envelopes that once held advance screening passes for movies that pr companies think artsy people will enjoy, business cards, the Globe and Mail Style Book (9th Edition), CD's of music and production photos, higlighters, notebooks, staplers, copies of scripts, newspaper clippings, last week's safeway flyer, first, second and third drafts of press releases and memos, and travel itineraries for dozens of people are among the things that threaten to take over my work surface completely.

So this is what is meant by creative chaos.

Or complete disorganization.

Monday, February 05, 2007

With Baited Breath...

Monday, February 05, 2007
I'm so ready. If there has ever been a moment in time when I was prepared, emotionally and physically, this is it. I'm amped, prepped, and ready to pounce.

Disco.

It's time for a comeback.

Just think! Why lounge around all emo-like when you could be having this much fun? (in passing: I want to know what kind of drugs those people are on. Because while I'd like to think I advocate clean living, if drugs pave the road to dancing with light-rods and confetti, I might be convinced to give it a go)

And while I love my indie-rockers and adorabley angsty emo bands, I think what the world needs now is disco-lovin'. A little funky never hurt anyone.

Bring on the body glitter, the platforms, the spangled jump-suits. Put away the skinny jeans, the eyeliner, the floppy bang-in-face. I'm ready, baby. And I think the world is, too.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Facebook Creeping

Sunday, February 04, 2007
You know what the best thing about being on Facebook is?

FInding photographic proof that you were lied to; evidence of where someone was when they were supposed to be somewhere with you, but 'couldn't make it' for any number of reasons that seemed legitimate enough at the time, but turned out to be drunken asshattery, boozing of any variety, or making out with randoms.

Some people, it appears, are even stupider than I had initially given them credit for.

Bitter Hag In The City

I told Lauren that I was contemplating a blog name change. You like?

Today was spent scoping out dudes in McNally Robinson (I was there for a panel discussion related to work, so I mostly paid attention, but man, there are some dudes in that bookstore worthy of a checkout), eating coconut shrimp at Red Lobster, and then driving to the absolute northernmost cinema in town and then circling the suburban hell of a parking lot for 20 minutes to find a miniscule spot, only to find out that the movie we wanted to see was sold out so we got back into the car and drove to the deep southwest, circled the parking lot, bought tickets to the movie and waited for two hours. Those two hours were spent judging the fashion mistakes of mall rats and high school students.

All of that parking and circling and lobstering and judging of tanorexic skinny jeans stuffed into slipper boots (not even I would wear my slipper boots out of the house!) makes for high anticipation for a movie. Which was meh. Something like "I Told You So" or "Because I Said So" or "What Would Life Be Like With An Overbearing, Meddling Mother and Two Horndog Sisters? Find Out At A Theatrenearyou!". Meh, but there were some pretty cakes and furniture in the movie...

I need to get out more, obviously.

Anyway, tomorrow brings another dress rehearsal, a hopeful sleep in (unless the man from the gas company disrupts my slumberous snuggle burrito...highly likely), and the possibility of pancakes.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Why I Sleep Alone

Friday, February 02, 2007
I've taken to some of the oddest sleeping habits lately. Aside from listening to my "Obscenely Tacky Songs" playlist as I drift off (including hits by Queen, Billy Joel, the Scissor Sisters and Elton John), going to bed before most Grandmothers do, and talking to myself in my sleep, I've found the prime sleeping position; one I will refer to as the Megan Burrito.

It involves flipping around and cocooning myself up in my duvet, until I can hardly move, and then drifting off to the land of trance-dancing iguanas and the ability to see into the future.

Then the alarm goes off, and I must struggle to free myself of my snuggle burrito, wrench my arm out into the chilly morning air, and hit snooze. Then, I squirm back into the burrito configuration, and repeat the process until I am forced out of my bliss and into the morning.


Sigh. What I wouldn't give to be back with that iguana.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

My Harry Potter Shame

Thursday, February 01, 2007
Hey, it's so not my fault. I can't help it. It's creepy, makes me feel like I'm bordering on child abuse, but please remember, he's above the age of consent (at least in Saskatchewan...)

Harry Potter is hottesque. I'm very lame. Trust me, this is going to segue into something worthwhile in a minute. But one cannot deny the strange appeal of that kid...who is not a boy, not yet a former child star cracked out and hangin' with Paris Hilton.

Related is this question: I have a Chapters online coupon thanking me for filling out a thousand online surveys. The new Harry POtter Book was announced today.

Do I use my coupon to advance order it, reducing the price to $13 (hardcover!) or do I wait and use the coupon for something else more immediately gratifying? Do I know that I'll be living on this earth in July when the book is published? Or is a $13 copy of obviously the hottest, most-anticipated childrens' novel this year too good to resist?

You, blogreaders, may decide. Use it and wait, or use it and buy the book for $30 later?