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:

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

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
Mom,

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,

Meg

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...

    Yeaaaah.

    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.

    spaaaaaaah.

    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,

    Meg

    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.