Monday, June 30, 2008

This long-long-weekend interruption brought to you by the letters M and O, N, D, A, and Y

Monday, June 30, 2008
Sigh. It is hot in hurr.

You know those summer days when it's so gosh-darn hot that you sleep in pretty much nothing, on top of the covers with a rotating fan beside your bed? Yeah, last night was one of those nights. And I'll tell you, I did not sleep well. And I can be assured that tonight will be much of the same. Which is why I am glad that I do not work tomorrow.

Also, I am glad that I live in a climate zone where it is not humid. Thank you, Big Guy, for small mercies.

And also, you should know that it really is hot. It's hot enough to cause me to go out and buy shorts (not capris, not board shorts, not bermudas, like actual, mid-thigh length shorts). I haven't worn shorts since 2003. I hate shorts. Shorts are basically the bane of my existence, my nemesis, the only part of summer I don't love. Don't ask me why. It's irrational and involves complicated tan lines, a summer of getting burned by a pizza oven and spilling vanilla soft-serve mix on one's upper thighs while pouring it into the ice cream machine. Also, getting heat stroke indoors.

No one said I was sane.

ANYWAY. Yesterday I caved, and in combination with a Barrhead Fun Run T-shirt from the late 70s/early 80s belonging to my uncle Ted that I pilfered from my Grandma's house, I looked EXACTLY like a camp counsellor.

Gather close, Campers. Counsellor Megan is going to teach you several crucial survival skills, like the proper proportion of gin to tonic, how to walk in high heels, and why you should never ever ever get gel nails, no matter how 'classy' you think they look with your piano-key blonde highlights.

Friday, June 27, 2008

What I need right now

Friday, June 27, 2008
A slurpee. Some ABBA. Some beansprouts-shredded carrots-lettuce-grilled chicken-springrolls-rice vermicelli. An advil.




It's the Long Weekend

Well, actually, it's not. But next week is a short short work week, interrupted by sporadic bursts of time off for things like BBQs (get a half day off) and a Parade (get a whole day off), and our National holiday (get a whole day off).

So I celebrated not getting Monday off by eating veggie sushi rolls in Needle Park. Tonight I'm going for Vietnamese and then watching a late screening of Kung Fu Panda. It's a pan-asian celebration over here.

And I want you all to know that I caved. I faultered. I fell off the wagon. I couldn't take it anymore. I woke up at 8:40 today with a throbbing headache and a heart that can't even fathom how long four more days feels and one hell of a caffeine withdrawl problem. I got to work at 9:02, showered and dressed with a throbbing headache, and could not stand even the thought of powdered coffee whitener.

So I went to Starbucks. And it was freaking great. It was the best latte I've ever had. And I don't regret it at all.

Even if it means that I can't spend that four dollars and seventy-seven cents at Disneyland in September, it was worth it.

Thursday, June 26, 2008


Thursday, June 26, 2008
Well, I didn't win the lottery last night. Damn. I feel like I have personally lost my 1/9th of our office pool's 30 million non-winnings. I was going to pay off my debt and buy starbucks for the rest of my life (or the next 3 months) with that money.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

A moment, please

Wednesday, June 25, 2008
May I call your attention to a new item on the links list.

For those of you too lazy to scroll, may I present you with The 26 Most Disturbing Family Films Ever.

Just collecting resources for future family-related childminding duties. Hello, young nieces-to-be, does Auntie Megan have a film for you!

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

My brand new wardrobe

Tuesday, June 24, 2008
What I'll be wearing to every event from now until December!

On giving up that which I love the most

It is not an exaggeration to say that the last week has been HARD. For two reasons- both of which are things (people are things!) that I love very much and are currently missing from my day-to-day existence.

For those of you playing along at home, I'm still off the Starbucks coffee. I'm on a roll with my poorly-home-brewed caffeine fix, and aside from feeling like I'm depriving myself of just a little bit of hot, steaming. five-dollar joy every single morning, it's not so bad.

That is a bald-faced lie I tell myself to make coping with loss easier. I hate homebrewed coffee. But not as much as I hate powdered coffee whitener. Gak. Note to self: buy cream at store across street from office. That powdered coffee whitener is going to be what drives me back into the loving embrace of the Caffeine Mafia, I swear.

Monday, June 23, 2008

On trying not to be snarky

Monday, June 23, 2008
The wedding I went home for was lovely. I've never seen my friend, the Groom, who happened to be my Grad date, look so happy. I remember him refusing to wear footwear other than his ninja turtle bedroom slippers in Kindergarten. I remember digging a hole in another friend's backyard, bravely pledging to make it all the way to the Orient. I'll never forget his 6am Shania Twain serenade on one junior high camping trip, and how could I ever, ever, ever forget how good he looked in a skirt?

Congratulations to him and his very pretty wife.

Now, on to the important business, what you all come here for:

A review of the Midnight Lunch.

Yes, I judged this wedding based on the lunch served to hungry (intoxicated) guests during the dance. I give this midnight lunch a 5 on an 8 point scale. The majority of the points were lost based on only two meat options (ham and turkey) and no cheese tray.

However, the salad options were more than satisfactory!

One out-of-town guest followed me around the table in the kitchen, watching me re-arrange buns and then grab a plate. She looked questioningly as I scooped wheat salad on to my plate.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Wheat salad." I responded. I'm helpful.

"What's in it?" she asked.

"Wheat" I said. (again, helpful).


"oh. Cool-whip, vanilla pudding and pineapple," I said as I continued to spoon it out.

"Oh. Is it good?" She asked.

No. No, it's not. I'm just filling one quarter of my plate with a heap of it because I hate it so much and god, it's so gross, so I'm doing you a favour by taking care of your portion, too. Later we'll throw it out behind the 3 foot crystal vases the mother of the bride rented for this occasion while she's not watching.

Out of towners. Sheesh.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Baby, you can drive my car

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Well, actually, drive it? Not so much, unless your name is on the registration and insurance.

Sit in it? Sure!

Friday, June 20, 2008

Updated: Dentist, not so bad.

Friday, June 20, 2008
I have found the yuppiest dentist ever. I love it. Also, this is one really good case where my Saskatchewan connections resulted in me suffering less pain as opposed to more pain.

Yes, my dentist (well, the other dentist in the practice, not my dentist, who btw is a really nice, young-ish lady dentist, so fears of weird old men putting their fingers in my mouth are banished!) is from Yorkton, the motherland, where my mother is from. He knew my uncle. My new hygenist is from Melville. That's where my aunt is from. This means nothing to most of you.

But what it meant to me is that they are almost like family; family who are concerned about how little you floss and let you get away with waiting until your dental insurance kicks in to remove two (TWO!) wisdom teeth, one of which is actually cracked in half. Expensive.

So thank you, new, Yuppy, if we did enough research I'm sure we'd discover that we actually are related somehow dentist. I feel like bringing you a dainty tray and giving you a hug.

Well, not quite a hug. Maybe just a dainty tray.

oh, the PAIN! the AGONY!

I'm just mentally preparing for my dental visit in an hour or so.

Let's be real here, I hate the dentist. I hate the peridontist. I hate the orthodontist (well, mine was kind of cool, I guess). I hate medical professionals touching my teeth. Go away. Leave them alone. Have they not suffered enough?!

I am not excited about the impending pain and doom I am surely going to suffer.

Stupid teeth. Do what you were designed to do, Molars- and may I suggest that what you were designed to do is NOT break?


At least I got to sleep in today, yes?

This should warrant a visit to Starbucks. I think I deserve it. I've made it five days, surely one won't hurt...right?

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Dear Diary: Mood, Undecided.

Thursday, June 19, 2008
I've been convinced all week that I was one day ahead of schedule.

Yesterday I attempted to order the Thursday Special (mmm, turkey sandwich) but was rebuffed. Today I was celebrating the dawn of the weekend and then remembered that nooo, there is in fact ANOTHER DAY stuck in there.

I guess this is what happens when you are anxiously counting down the sleeps.

In other thrilling and exciting news, I chipped a tooth yesterday and now need to find a dentist. Oh, joy. A stranger putting their fingers in my mouth and then charging me through the roof for it because my dental insurance hasn't and wont' kick in until August. Whatever could be more fun than that.

Wait. I know.

Another U of C Alumni networking event. This time it's a pool party!

Aaaand, I'm going home to Mummy this weekend. Actually, I'm going home for a wedding, the WEDDING OF THE YEAR, so stay tuned for reports on exactly how many meats were served, the quality of the midnight lunch, and what happens when I'm uncomfortable enough around people I spent the first eighteen years of my life with to drink too many vodka paralyzers and end up in a messy, messy, wedding-cake-pushing altercation.

Also, come back to discover if I wore inappropriately low cut dress number one (colourful!) or two (black like my enthusiasm!).

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Not what it looks like, I swear.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I have found the best way to make my roommate Sarah wish that someone would hurry up and get home from Germany already so that I would stop hanging around our house all the time.

Sarah walked in the door this evening from a raucous game of Bingo, and I looked up at her from the couch and said one of those things roommates say to each other that go on the permanent record and that can never be taken back:

'I'm not watching porn. I swear."

I wasn't! I swear! This isn't one of those situations where 'if you have to tell someone that you are a lady, you probably aren't'.

I was actually sitting on the couch watching Season One, Episode One of The Tudors, a highly educational and well-received series produced about, well, duh, The Tudors.

I just didn't realize I had purchased the, ahem, uncut version.

And for future reference, in this particular case, uncut does not mean extended.

Ouch. Too many double entendres for a measly Tuesday...

Day Two: No Starbucks

So far, things are...actually not so bad. Last night I almost cracked. I so desperately needed a lift to get through the Meeting That Would Never End, but no. I made it. Barely.

What is it with this city and crosswalks? I nearly get hit by a large automobile mid-crosswalk on a daily basis.

So maybe that's why a Traffic...Dude (what's the male equivalent of Meter Maid? Meter Butler? Meter Man? Don't know) stopped mid-crosswalk, pivoted, sort of squatted like he was a cowboy in a gunfight, and raised his hand palm out to stop me from hitting him in a crosswalk.

Dude. I had come to a complete stop. I am aware that it is both illegal and impolite to hit pedestrians. I am aware of this, thank you. I took Drivers' Ed.

Plus, if I was really determined to barrel through that crosswalk and take you down?

No self-important palm out patrol-guard style stance could stop me.

Neither could that ridiculous hat. Take that off. I feel terrible for you. You look like a moron. Someone should write the city about the uniforms our civil servants are required to wear.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Oh, Monday. Monday.

Monday, June 16, 2008
I want nothing more than to go home right now, take out my contact lenses, put on pants made out of a fabric that stretches more than fabric should stretch, and curl up on the couch with a bag of herbal cough drops.

But alas, I am at work, staring at my nice wide monitor, willing my eyes not to burst/fall out of their sockets, looking to the advil bottle for strength and courage but not exceeding the daily recommended dose, and trying to figure out if I should use outdated software program one or two to create the document I'm working on.

Also, I feel it is pertinent to point out that I have decided to use the next fourteen days to try and kick my Starbucks habit.

"yeah, yeah, we've heard this before..." you say.

But what I mean is that I don't want to buy my coffee at Starbucks anymore. I plan to make it at home. I'm even thinking that what I should do is transfer the amount of money I would normally spend a week on lattes (sweet, sweet lattes) into a nice piggy bank/empty peanut butter jar and then in six months see how much I have and use that to purchase a three bedroom vacation home in Aruba, and with the extra left over, buy a Lexus.

Why are there 19 cough drops in this package? Not 20? What is wrong with Life brand??

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Wanted: One Barney

Saturday, June 14, 2008
Please excuse me while I go all sad sack Ted Mosby on you for the next few days.

Now going to nap.

Friday, June 13, 2008

That's it. I'm quitting. Done blogging forever.

Friday, June 13, 2008
Someone just googled "bitter hag blog" and landed here.

I...wha..but...I got nothing.

Whoa. Dude.

Why do I feel like I woke up this morning and all of a sudden, we're halfway through 2008 and I hadn't noticed until that exact moment?

I'm sitting at my desk, innocently sipping my iced passion tea (because without a doubt, what my life needs is more passion) and reading the Globe.

Saturday is Tax Freedom Day. Saturday is the 14th of June. Saturday is one week from full-fledged summer.

What happened to this year?

One day, I'm sitting in the airport lounge at Pearson wearing a suit and waiting for yet another delayed flight home, the next I'm watching the snow melt in sweat pants and waiting for phone calls about new jobs, and now here I am, 6 months has passed, and I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt, sitting at a new desk, waiting for our server to go back up (yet again).

Sarah O. said to me in early January that 2008 was going to be the Year of Change. So far, that prediction has been dead on.

I can't even begin to imagine what's going to happen in the second half of this year.

I hope it involves our server going back up so I can actually DO some WORK.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Ohhh, yeah. New radio station.

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Sometimes I need to mix it up. Like any radio station, the fatal flaw of Jack FM or Fuel or whatever else I find it appropriate to listen to during the working hours is repetition.

Like back in the day, Friday nights at the Den, when we knew the party would start as soon as a certain song played. You could count on it- as soon as the opening chords of 'Living on a Prayer' came on, you dropped that vodka special or smirnoff ice *black* and hit the dance floor. Followed up by 'I Love Rock and Roll' and 'Billy Jean', then 'In the Club' and something by Eminem, the same songs played in the same order every Friday for eight months.

And I never complained.

But now that I'm no longer permitted to dull the routine with copious amounts of booze (at least, during the work day), I kind of like to shake things up a bit.

So when Amanda turned me on to a new station (103.1) that plays pretty much all music recorded before I was born, or at least before I was aware that music existed other than the hits made famous by recording superstars like Raffi and musical heavyweights like Fred Penner- I was intrigued.

Hello, workday Marvin Gaye.

Helloo, workday Elton John.

Well, helloooo, workday John, Paul, George and Ringo.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

To masquerade, or not to masquerade.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008
I can't believe a) that I'm actually considering this b) I'm actually writing about this on my blooooog.

So the final of the four vampire smut novels is set to be released on August 1. (Come on, it's been at least 4 weeks since I brought it up, you knew it was coming, this blog is nothing if not pathetic running bits and re-hashing of old material)

The Big Box Bookstore that is Not McNally Robinson (sigh, because it'll be...sniff...closed) is holding a book release party for "Teenaged Vampire Smut 4: Smutty, Smut, Smut, Smut".

I refuse to use the real title because I don't want to be a landing page for waves of melodramatic teenaged girls swept up into a feverish tizzy over a fictional character that they are totally. in. luff. with. in a poorly written Young Adult series about teenaged vampires.



To attend the release party or not is my quandry.

On the Pros side:

It's at midnight.
It's a masquerade theme.
I already have a mask.
I could purchase "TVS4:SSSS" and read it that night, in one sitting, like I did for that other final novel in a series written for children.

Rounding out the Cons:
I hate teenagers.
It's at midnight. I'm old. That's late for Megans to be up and about.
I hate teenagers. Particularly in groups.
You'll never let me live it down.

Seeing as how Amanda and I have already had this discussion today, I'm not even sure I could persuade her to join me on my Teenaged Vampire Smut pilgramage.

So, Blog Readers, tell me. Is this only minor fandom crazy, or have I entered the seventh circle of pathetic behaviour for merely considering attending such a fete?

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Ha! Take that, Nature!

Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Oh, Nature, you wily hosebeast you. You thought you could ruin my day again, didn't you? But you were WRONG.

Because even though I arrived at the office this morning with hair sopping wet, umbrella inside out and wet, wet, soaked entirely through shoes (and ergo, wet, wet, cold feet), you did not get the best of me.

Oh no.

Because I get a little something called a lunchbreak.

And during said lunchbreak, I acquired a pair of warm socks, an umbrella that was rightside in, and the best thing ever....


So take THAT!

Because now you can rain all you want, Nature! I am PREPARED! Hit me with your best June showers, BRING it ON.

I'll be the one in the black coat with the black umbrella and the black and white rain boots, jumping in mud puddles and laughing hysterically.

Mwa. Hahaha. Ha.

Monday, June 09, 2008


Monday, June 09, 2008
Oh, dear Blog, I have not forsaken thee!

Nay, I was merely up gallivanting in the mountains for the weekend with that really, really, ridiculously good looking boyfriend of mine. (No, Blog, I haven't screwed that up yet! Despite several efforts, like the time I got us lost in the mall parkade for like, twenty minutes.)

And I tell you, Blog, it was possibly the best weekend I've ever had in my life. I can sum up the greatest days ever in a relatively concise list:

Day my sibling was born
Day I graduated from High School
Day I moved to Calgary
Day I got my first real job
Day I convocated
Day I had my first massage and spa facial(spaaah)
Weekend I spent at the Banff Springs Hotel

So there you have it, Blog. The happiest days of my life, in short- of course, there have been many many, far too many happy moments to even consider counting- but this weekend past definitely made the happy short list.

Here's a picture, Blog. Can't you just see how happy we are? I know, we're adorable. And look at all that nature! Nature is so incredibly picturesque, don't you think, Blog?

Hugs and Kisses- until next time,

Obnoxiously yours,


Wednesday, June 04, 2008

creep not lest ye be creeped

Wednesday, June 04, 2008
An open letter to facebook:

Dear Facebook,

I really liked you once. A whole lot. Scrabulous, which I adored until I was yelled at in a meeting and
publicly shamed at work for using, was and possibly is an awesome timewaster.

Sharing photos and connecting with old friends is great. You have completely eliminated the need for a highschool
reuinion and at the same time made it that much easier to organize.

Suddenly I'm invited to 10, 15, 25 events a month that I eagerly RSVP "maybe" to and never show up for. Oh, but what
a socialy butterfly I must be!

And you have made it so easy to stalk people. Former coworkers, acquaintances, maybe that guy you had a colossal crush on
from 1995-2002, minus a 2 month period in 1998 when you had a crush on that other guy. He's there too. And he's
MARRIED! Isn't that grand?

But then we start opening this big ass vat of worms.

Because it's all fine and good to post slightly inappropriate photos of yourself in a variety of inebriated poses,
knowing that your mother can see them. That's called having no shame, by the way, and it sort of feels good, because
who are we kidding, she was there that time you drank six paralyzers and yahonged in your packed suitcase.

And it's just dandy to be able to write cheeky inside jokes for all the world to see on the walls of your friends,
which may or may not include not so thinly veiled stabs and insults at other individuals. You have made it so easy to be
passive aggressive, Facebook, and I sort of love it.

But then there's the danger of clicking on the links that you should just know to leave well alone.

No, you don't need to see those photos.

No, you don't want to know what so-and-so is up to and who they're hanging out with and where they
went for dinner last night. Without you. OR whatever.

And Facebook, I marvel at and shake my fist in resigned anger at your ability to just not forget things.

Like the fact that Amanda and I were briefly wed.

That will haunt me forever, those memories of happiness.

Or the photos posted two, going on two and a half years ago when we thought no one would ever care and it wouldn't matter.
Or, that whoever was in those photos would always be in future photos and so there was no harm, no foul.

Basically, Facebook, what I'm trying to get at is that you really effed with my piece of mind.

Could you please install some kind of feature that would stop me from creeping where I should not creep?

I'm sure that Bill Gates and the Google dudes and Steve Jobs are only months away from being able to just read our
minds, we won't need wireless laser mouses and fancy keystroke shortcut commands.

So get on it, Facebook. Know what I don't want to see and hide it, so that even if I go looking for it, I won't be able
to find it.

Like a good best friend.

You know, the kind where you're like "Please, for the love of god. Take this kitschy metal syphillis propaganda
lunchkit full of painful memorbilia and hide it. And when I ask for it, when I beg you for it, when I threaten
to call your mother and tell her EXACTLY what happened with that Rugby team the night you did eight shots of
tequila... DO NOT GIVE IT TO ME."

Love and kisses,

big yellow taxi

My window at work overlooks a block of greenspace that was once a schoolyard. It was one of those old schools with the sandstone front and potentially separate entrances for boys and girls. The kind that was probably scorchingly hot in the summer months and cold in the winter months, where everyone wore a lot of wool and the entire student body itched from over-starched collars.

Or maybe it's just an old inner-city school building, minus the romanticisim above.

Either way, I eat lunch now in this park. There's a nice big tree and some benches and a few tables. Greenspace is at a huge premium in this city, particulary in the Beltline (running between the downtown core and 17th avenue, approximately). I like nature. Even in small, well-manicured spaces.

And now they've got it fenced off, which means one thing.


Hope the future new condo owners don't mind me eating lunch on their lawn.

Tuesday, June 03, 2008


Tuesday, June 03, 2008
I am going home. In fifty minutes. And I'm going to do laundry and lie on my floor and listen to Canadian indie rock.

Anyone wishing to deliver butter chicken to my house is advised to call first as I will have the Canadian indie rock on so loud I may not hear the doorbell and I may not be wearing pants as I need to wash them all.

This shall be short

I'm leaving in five minutes to go to Edo to buy hot noodly lunch to go eat with my friend in the park. Which actually means that because it is contemplating rain, we'll eat in the lobby of some downtown skyrise (is that a word? I feel torn between "highrise" and "skyscraper" because highrise indicates to me residential, while skyscraper indicates to me buildings much taller than the ones we have here).

Basically I just wanted to whiiine about the fact that I forgot to order my latte half sweet this morning, so it's overly sugary and that threw off my groove all day. Also, I had forgotten that Safeway does its baking in the mornings, and at 8:30 on weekdays the air smells like jelly donuts- which is a great way to start the day.

Anyway, I had something to say but now can't remember because I'm focusing on trying to decide between a bento box and udon soup and remembering with sweet sweet joy the wonderfulness of the wonton soup I had for lunch yesterday. Insert belly roll of satisfaction here.

Monday, June 02, 2008

A second, bonus, just special for you because I luff you so much post

Monday, June 02, 2008
Actually, I kind of just wanted to whine, and what do I do best if not whine on my blog?

It's Monday. I had a phenomenal weekend. Birthaversaries were celebrated, beer was drank, cake was eaten more than once, SaTC was viewed and it was surprisingly was a good weekend. But for every good, action-packed weekend of awesomeness comes a Monday morning of tired ass dragging.

Last night it was discussed how much an additional day of weekend would be appreciated. A whole day to do nothing, just relax and unwind and not speak to other humans outside of the house using full sentences and maybe not even while wearing real pants. Also, perhaps brunch would be involved.

Where is this additional bonus day of laze now, eh?

While I don't seem to have the problems I used to have when getting out of bed in the morning, I sure didn't want to this morning.

Oh, well. 4 more sleeps and it's the weekend again.

This is how life is measured. Sort of sad, but sort of reassuring. I can count on one hand the days until I'll be filled with the wonderment of weekend bliss yet again. And I bet it'll be good.

Giving away the secret family recipes

You can be sure that if I had been born into the Sanders family, that chicken recipe would not be safe.

Thanks to Auntie Colleen and Uncle Ted for taking in a band of 'orphaned' Baileys (and by extension, one that is not a Bailey and who has four computers and five monitors and none of them are Macs and this is a travesty, but despite this we let him hang around anyway) last night for dinner. I love a good family bbq. Actually, I love anything that has to do with food cooked over flame, and pretty much anything having to do with family.

Because all who were there read ye olde blog, and I had a request, here are the absurdly easy instructions for my mother's beloved saskatchewan style curried broccoli salad and the rhubarb cake.

Curried Broccoli Salad

1 cup seedless red grapes
2 cups broccoli (broken into small pieces)
½ cup green onions (chopped finely)
½ cup almonds (roasted) or 3 tbs shelled, roasted sunflower seeds
¼ cup "real" bacon bits or bacon pieces

2 tablespoons curry powder
1 cup mayonnaise (not Miracle Whip or salad dressing)(I violated this as I prefer the tangy zip)
½ cup sugar (I use slightly less)
2 tablespoons vinegar

Mix the dressing ingredients together. Put grapes, broccoli, and
onions in bowl. Add dressing and mix well. Add almonds/seeds and bacon
bits and mix again. This is best if it is prepared early in the day.
The dressing will thin after it sits in the fridge. Be sure to stir
again before serving. This salad will keep for a few days in the

Rhubarb Cake

5 cups diced rhubarb
1 box red jello (jello comes in colours, not flavours in my house)
1/2 cup sugar
3 cups mini marshmallows
2 eggs
1 box white cake mix (and amount of water called for on the box, do not use oil)

Arrange rhubarb in bottom of 9x13 pan. Sprinkle jello over rhubarb. Sprinkle sugar over rhubarb. Cover with marshmallows. Prepare cake mix as directed with 2 eggs and water called for on box. DO NOT ADD OIL even if box tells you to. Ignore oil directions on box. Very important. Pour over fruit and marshmallows. Bake for 50-55 minutes in a 350 degree oven. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.