Saturday, February 28, 2009

Saturday morning acts of bravery

Saturday, February 28, 2009
It's a special kind of friend you can call on a Saturday morning and, without even so much as a hello, shriek:

I'm in the baby department and Walmart and my head just exploded.

Who KNEW that buying baby shower gifts were so incredibly difficult? All that cute, rounded up in one corner of a mass-market consumerism mecca! Hats with ears and mittens to prevent babies from scratching out their eyes and ONESIES! Come on, we all know what kind of soft-spot I've got going for outfits that are a top and a bottom joined together, made out of terry cloth!

So after she talked me down and reminded me that I just needed to focus, I abandoned my mission to buy gender-neutral baby basics (find out what it is, already!) and carried on with my list of to-dos.

I picked up oven cleaner, a sports bra, some paper towels and then:

Windshield washer fluid.

Okay, so as if it wasn't bad enough to venture into the unknown realm of Diaper Land- now I had to go to the opposite end of the store, another no-Megans land.

The Automotive Department.

But I put on my Big-Girl Pants, sucked it up, and- unassisted, might I add!- I selected, paid for and refilled the windshield washer fluid in my car.

For a girl who didn't pump her own gas until she was nearly 21, that is a mighty feat indeed.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Germy McHeroine

Friday, February 27, 2009
Yeah, I'm That Person. The person who whines and bitches about their sick coworker sucking it up and braving the boardroom- and then sucks it up and braves the boardroom even though she should really be at home, in bed.

But I've got too much to do!

But I'm not THAAAT sick!

But I have a meeting!

Yeah, whatever. The day is half over and I should be able to pull through. I hope. And then I have hot weekend plans of lying on the couch under a blanket, watching rom-coms and drinking tea.

And cleaning the oven. That's on my list.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Why Sick People Should Stay Home

Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Thanks to a sick co-worker who CAME IN ANYWAY (thanks, Germy McHero), I feel like crap. Seriously, internets, I want to die. I have 5 hours and 15 minutes left to go in the work day, and I feel every single passing second.

And tonight we're having one of Gary's friends over for dinner.

Thankfully she isn't the type of person to judge me for wearing a floppy beret because I woke up at 8:45 and didn't really have time to do my hair.


Also, poll:

Green and Sea-blue: gender neutral colours for a baby, or no?

Monday, February 23, 2009

Be honest- have you ever heard anyone call it facial tissue?

Monday, February 23, 2009
G: Oh, we need to pick up more cleanser.

M: I have no idea what you are talking about when you say "cleanser".

G: *confused look* ...uh, this. (holds up can)

M: OH! COMET! Yeah, okay.

G: Comet is the brand name. It's cleanser.

M: No, it's Comet. It's called Comet. I refer to it as Comet.

G: I suppose you're one of those that says, "pass me a kleenex, I need to go xerox this."

M: *stony silence*

The Sundays

Yesterday I had the Sundays something fierce.

To be honest, they showed up on Saturday morning. After about an hour, they went away, and I thought that maybe I was in the clear.

But no.

After a nice morning coffee at Starbucks and a leisurely grocery shop (as leisurely as a Sunday afternoon grocery shop at the busiest Co-op in town can be...), the Sundays arrived again.

This time with flu-like symptoms.

And even after a 2 and a half hour nap, the Sundays lingered. I still have them.

Sigh. It's such a grey, miserable, ear-freezing Monday morning. I wish I was back at home, snuggled in bed with my stuffed hippopotamus, Hugo, and dreaming of sunny days in the park.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Apartment Complex Bingo

Friday, February 20, 2009
Since moving to Calgary in the fall of 2002, I have lived in one dorm room, three on-campus apartments, two houses and one twenty-third floor 640 sq. foot apartment.

I've shared a living space roughly the size of a closet with another human being. I survived sharing one bathroom and one kitchen with three other women- two of whom refused to speak to each other. I've subleased, been the lease holder, eaten in cafeterias and once (BUT ONLY ONCE) lived with a man who banned Sex and the City from our dwelling.

But it occured to me yesterday that I have never lived in a proper apartment building that isn't the home to solely university students- until now.

And you know, it's really different.

It's pretty much everything I expected it to be: random hoodlums in the lobby, smell of contraband cigarette smoke, upstairs neighbours who constantly drop things at all hours of the day and night.

There are positives, too, like a constant source of hot water that doesn't immediately scald or freeze the person having a shower when their neighbour/partner flushes the toilet. A diverse community. A laundry facility with up-to-date machines and the ability to wash all of the clothes I own at once (11 loads, fyi). Someone to hear you screaming if you are being robbed and/or raped. (Sorry Mom! THIS DOESN'T REALLY HAPPEN. I PROMISE.)

But because I've never lived in a big apartment complex not populated solely by 18-22 year olds looking for the cheapest beer in the city, I expected to see a few things. And boy howdy, have I ever.

In the past 3 weeks, I have spotted:

at least 10 pizza delivery guys
a woman in a flowered, neon mumu
a spastic exerciser in the fitness centre, clearly not knowing what he was doing but doing it hard anyway
14 children and adults living in one 2-bedroom apartment
the lovely smell of a different food cooking on every floor of the building

Anything else I should expect? Fortunately, the walls in the building seem to be pretty thick and sound-proof, which is probably better for our neighbours than us. Because I'm not sure if I mentioned this, but Gary's stereo system is a bit...intense. So intense that the couch shakes when we watch an action film.

And I'm sure those downstairs neighbours reaaaaallly appreciate it.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

I'm so old

Thursday, February 19, 2009
Last night I fell asleep at 9:00 pm. In bed.

Falling asleep at 9pm on the couch is one thing. To conciously go to sleep in bed? That's scary.

Soon I won't even be able to stay awake for Wheel of Fortune.

I'm nervous today, interwebs. I feel ill-prepared. My hair looks like crap. All of this lines up to the perfect storm of feeling self concious in a situation where I have to suit up and impress.

Which is tragic, because what I really want to do today is stay home, do laundry, wash the bathroom floor and finally unpack the random suitcase of crap sitting in our bedroom.

Seriously. Housefrau is the new Corporate Career Woman, right?

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Why two grumblecakes is not better than one

Wednesday, February 18, 2009
This week, I've been going to work an hour earlier. This is to make up for some time I need to take off, but didn't want to use vacation time for. So, I give up a few lunch breaks and come in early. Them's the breaks.

This means that I get up shortly after Gary does. Now, on a normal day, Gary leaves the house a full hour before I even consider hitting snooze.

I take approximately 15 minutes to get ready, from flat on my back in bed to out the door. Now that I have a hair 'do that looks mostly decent when styled and mostly crappy when not, I need 30 minutes.

Thus, there is no justification for me rising and shining at 6:00 in the morning, when the 4 blocks that separate our apartment and my office take me between 7-10 minutes to walk, and I start at 9:00.

But no, this week, I've been up.

Yesterday, I was shiny and joyful and full of vigor and promise.

Gary was the Baron von Grumblecakes.

This morning, we reversed roles (except I was the Baroness, of course).

And on both occasions, the Grumbley One convinced the Not Grumbley One to crawl back under the covers and hide from the world.

This is why Gary and I can't get up at the same time. God forbid we both inhabit the House of Grumblecakes on the same day. We'd lose our jobs and our only sources of income for sure.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Family Day: Grandma would be ASHAMED.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Mmm, the Mo-Tuesday following a greatly anticipated long weekend. How I savour the aroma of you. You sort of smell like getting up 90 minutes early so I could get to work early for a fancy meeting. And, you know, petunias.

My weekend was AWESOME. Seriously. It included a swanky dinner, a comedy club, a sojourn to a pawn shop in the NW part of the city, an early morning latte run and a sweet mani-pedi with the best massage chair IN THE UNIVERSE.

And an hour-long neck rub. Because I am a spoiled princess.

And after a day of spending time with my "family" (Gary) doing things I will not blog about (playing Starcraft and watching Sci-Fi...damn it! blabbed again!) we made a dinner that is both reflective of my heritage and blasphemous, all at the same time.

Oh, delicious sausages and perogies. How I love thee.

And how guilty I felt that we barbecued the sausages and pan-fried, not boiled and buttered, the perogies.

And how guiltier I feel that it was DELICIOUS.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

These are the days of our lives.

Thursday, February 12, 2009
Well, it's the middle of February and Gary hasn't kicked me out yet.

I interpret this as a positive thing.

I don't necessarily like to blog about our relationship, but (because I'm breaking AAAALLL the rules today) it's important to note that we have never had a fight.

We are almost approaching a year of dating, and we have never. fought. This amazes me, and sort of scares me.

I'm not really a fighter, but come now. I scrap with my brother after 10 minutes of breathing the same air. I have strong opinions. I am petty. But apparently not petty enough.

The only major bone of contention in our relationship? How the toilet paper roll goes on the holder.

Oh, it's replaced. It's replaced regularly and promptly- we have no issues there.

But apparently I install it wrong. AND EVERY TIME I DO IT, I think about it, and I sort of panic. "Am I doing this wrong?" I think. And then I get all self-indignant and huffy and think to myself, "well, HE'S doing it wrong." And then I feel bad. And this is all within a 13 second window of time while I'm standing in the bathroom with a roll of personal hygiene paper in my hand.

I know what you're thinking (if you're not Gary). What does it matter?

I totally thought the same thing. Paper up, paper down, who cares?

Well. Apparently it makes it easier to reach one way. And it's easier to unroll. Or something.

So, I've come to this: Gary cares. And because he cares, and I care about him, I vow to make an effort.

Now let's see if we can make it to 50 years with no fighting. Mwahaha. Ha.

but seriously...which way is the right way, again?


It's Thursday. This weekend is a long weekend. It feels like the longest Thursday in the history of the world.

I am very tired and I do not want to go to adjudicate the show I'm scheduled for tonight.

But I will.

Because I promised I would.

And I'm sure it won't be that bad.

I want to go home and curl up with some Jane Austen (and cross something off that 101 list!) and nap the afternoon away. Maybe with a cat. Does anyone have a cat I could borrow?

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

No, seriously. 2006 Megan would hate 2009 Megan.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I'm having trouble deciding if I should go to the gym after work, or if I should go home and make delicious valentines cupcakes for my office.

I was torn between valentines sugar cookies or valentines cupcakes, but I made sugar cookies at christmas...and who doesn't love cupcakes?

When I was little, I always wanted my mom to make open faced flakes of ham sandwiches for the Valentines parties at school. Somehow I think these would go over less well with the adults I work with...

I've never really liked Valentine's Day. I've always been single on that day, and extremely bitter about it. I'm sure that everyone knew exactly where it was coming from when I grumbled about "hallmark holiday" and "stupid excuse to sell us crap" and "pink and red don't even GO together".

While all of the above are true, I do like cupcakes.

And these days, I like being mushyfaced. And what better excuse to get all mushyfaced in public than a random day in the middle of winter?

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Things Megans Like: Essentials to Life

Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Megans like a lot of things. Megans don't like a lot of things, too, but are trying reeeeeally hard to be positive even when it's snowing and they want to go outside and make a snowman using what would be the most perfect Hutterite carrot nose EVER.

Megans like:

Aveeno SPF 30 Illuminating Facial Lotion. Megans don't like sunburns or skin cancer, or dull looking skin. Also, it's very dry in Calgary.

Crystal Light Singles. Oh, woe be the day (Thursday last week) that I accidentally bought the regular-sized packet of Crystal Light. Now I have to make a litre and a half of juice? Bummer.

iPods. Except that Megans only have a 1GB shuffle. It's green. Megans plan to buy themselves (this is getting confusing) a shiny new iPod Nano for her birthday in April. Woot!

Sci-Fi TV Shows. Hit me with some space and gadgetry and maybe even something underwatery. Nerd central, beam me up. Et cetera.

Oatmeal! It's warm! It smells like pancakes! It's low in fat and calories and high in fibre! What's not to love?!

Monday, February 09, 2009

Things Megans Like: Counting down to arbitrary events

Monday, February 09, 2009
I was caught in a classic mid-afternoon mini-grumblecakes today. I sighed, opened my calendar in Outlook and prepared to gaze upon week after week of nothing to look forward to.

But holy toledo! Am I ever going to be busy in the next few months!!

This weekend is the long weekend (the one I've been eagerly anticipating since our last statutory holiday...). Gary and I have a hot suprise Saturday date planned. I know nothing about it, other than it's a surprise. I am very excited, for many reasons, but mostly because I love surprises, and I've never had a Valentine before (*cue barfing*).

In March, Gary and I are celebrating a year together (also, barfing noises here) and we're going to sneak away for a fab weekend in Banff.

In April, it's my birthday. I'll be turning an undisclosed age that I keep lobbying to have changed to 27.

Then it's Gary's birthday! And we will be going to the Palliser for brunch! I hope that wasn't supposed to be a surprise!

May- Erin and Marc's wedding...

June- Trip to Germany...

And then hot damn! the year is half-over. Sweeet.

Drive Safe

My parents are leaving this morning (well, they've probably left already) for Arizona. My mom and dad love to travel, and we've taken lots of great family vacations. They've also gone on many trips by themselves.

And every time they go somewhere, I worry that something will happen to them while they are gone.

I know it's irrational. But I worry. I worry that something will happen, or they will be in an accident, or one of them will get sick. Last year, my mom dropped into conversation that Dad went to the doctor when they were in Arizona (for something pretty minor) and I almost lost it.

I remember being about 10 years old and staying with my Grandma Clara while my parents went to Toronto. I was terrified that their plane would crash.

I think what contributes to my fear is the notion that if something DID happen to them, how would anyone ever get in contact with my brother and I?

It's strange, because I don't worry about them when they're at home...

Have fun, and don't worry about me, but please drive safe, Mom and Dad. And eat some really good mexican food for me!

Sigh of Relief

I am thrilled that it is not yet 8:00 in the morning and the sun is up. This makes me hopeful and happy that the cold clutches of winter may someday let us free.

I know, who am I fooling? It's going to be -30 again soon. But until then, rejoice! in the fact that it's February and it's not -10000 and I can get away with wearing just a fleecy to work.

That's practically summer weather.

Thursday, February 05, 2009

What to Wear

Thursday, February 05, 2009
Tonight I've got to pack to head to El Rancho Doug and Lenore. It usually takes me approximately 6 minutes to pack to go to Eatonia.

Unders, socks (but usually I just steal them from Mom), pants, a shirt per day, contact solution. There are usually extra toothbrushes lying around, and I left enough crap there when I moved out that hair products, body lotion and perfume are never far away.

I'm a very efficient packer. I believe that I could, given the opportunity (and the ability to take my only sold in big bottles contact solution aboard), use only a carry-on bag for a 10 day trip anywhere.

But tonight I have to figure out what I'm going to wear on Saturday night.

A Saturday night out in Eatonia is a rough wardrobe connundrum.

When I was 19-22, pretty much everything I owned was low cut. REALLY low cut. So every time I went out, I looked like Cleavage McGee and I'm sure while I thought I was hot, I really looked ridiculous.

Now that my entire wardrobe is made up of black cowl, turtle and v- neck sweaters, (wearing one right now...), looking trampy is slightly more difficult, but not impossible.


It doesn't help that I'm on a self-imposed clothing buying ban until April.



Wednesday, February 04, 2009

One you may opt out of

Wednesday, February 04, 2009
I wish it was still appropriate to post gold-star achievements on the fridge.

I'm angsty. I know it. I know it's probably driving everyone around me insane. In the past, many a person has tried to figure me out and while I maintain that it is exasperatingly easy (in a few words: Neurotic, then feeling Guilt about being Neurotic), the people in my life keep examining me with a big ass Nancy Drew style magnifying glass.

I feel terrible about it.

When I get quiet, it's because I am angsty. And then I'm angsty because I feel guilty about being angsty. BECAUSE I'M TOO OLD FOR ANGST.

I'm turning 25 and my life is pretty damn great and everything is pretty much running along tickety-boo and yet, I have angst.


I was looking at my old papers and mid-terms from my last semester at the U of C, and you know, they all had the letter A on them and some of them even had a little cross-like sign beside the A.

And now I feel like that was the last time in my life that I'll ever be able to hold something in my hands and say, "Hey. I done good. See? Someone else even said so!"

Crap. I hate being an adult, I hate having to rely on self-evaluation and motivation, I hate February, I hate people who clear their throats really loudly multiple times a day, and I hate that I'm boring you all with this semi-existential quarter life angsty bullshit.


Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (Theatre)!

Tuesday, February 03, 2009
This weekend, Gary and I will cram one younger brother and one younger brother's awesome ladyfriend into the tiny backseat of my Japanese car and make way for the flatlands.

I'm pretty excited about going home. I think it's been made obvious because roughly twice a day, I turn to Gary and say, "I'm pretty excited about going home".

The Oasis Players Dinner Theatre is a highlight of the winter season in Eatonia. My mother is heavily involved, because Baileys don't really get involved in things half-way.

You may ask, "Why Oasis Players?" and I will answer.

My hometown of Eatonia, Saskatchewan, is home to 400-some people. (side note: my dad took the photo in this article). Eatonia is a lovely town, with the slogan "The Prairie Oasis". The welcome sign used to, and still might, features a palm tree.

Isn't that informative?

This year, Gary and Julia will experience first-hand what it's like to meet 300 or so people in one evening who have known their significant others since birth. They will experience the delicious roast pork and various salads spread. I will buy lots of drink tickets and we will all get "slightly" toasted and the 3 block walk home across town will be refreshing. It will be grand.

Oh, right, and we'll see a play. Hooo boy!

Monday, February 02, 2009

Misadventures in the Parking Garage

Monday, February 02, 2009
This weekend I was uber productive.

I did 4 loads of laundry, hosted people for dinner, cleaned out the final dregs of stuff living in my old house, took 2 trips to the recycling centre, dropped a microwave off at Amanda's, and donated some 9 garbage bags and 6 boxes of stuff to Goodwill.

I win at life.

I also signed up for the underground parking in our building.

To do this, I needed to go to the Impark office. I snuck in right before they closed, signed my life away, and recieved 1 (one) shiny yellow parking pass to hang, SHINY YELLOW SIDE OUT from my rear-view mirror, and 1 (one) scan card allowing me access to the secured section of our lot and ONLY our lot.

It seemed simple enough. Drive into garage. Roll down window. Scan card. Garage door opens, drive car into garage. Park.

Done and done.

Then, what I thought was the final hurdle:

Enter apartment building.

Obstacle 1.

At this point, I am standing 2 floors below ground, in the parking lot, with a key fob that won't let me into my apartment building. I determine that there must be a way out of the parking garage. I tried 3 doors, winding my way from the west side to the east side of the lot, from P3 all the way down (?) to P1, and back. I finally find a sign that says Exit that doesn't require a properly coded fob, and I am liberated!

Fresh air and sunlight!

Obstacle 2.

I go to the rental office to inform them of my parking pass purchasing, and ask that they re-code my fob so I can enter the building from the parkade.

It is Friday.

Delores, the woman, the ONLY WOMAN, who can re-code fobs? Well. She won't be in until Monday.

Can't I live without my car until Monday? They ask.

Well, sure. Except that my car is FULL OF GROCERIES.

Can't I just use the scan card to open the garage door?

Well, sure. Except that my car is LOCKED in the parkade, because I left the scan card in the car, because THAT IS THE ONLY PLACE I'LL USE IT, HENCE WHERE I NEED TO KEEP IT.


I make it out of there on Friday afternoon with the building manager's master fob. Hurdles surmounted.


Obstacle 3.

I go back into the apartment building using the master fob. Easy.

I attempt to find where to enter the Parking Garage.


Because unlike NORMAL apartment buildings, you don't just hit "Basement" or "P2" in the elevator. Oh no. You go down to the basement. From there, no sign or arrow or ANY INDICATION OF PARKING is visible.

So this is the part of the story where I find myself opening random, unmarked steel doors in the basement of my new apartment building.

I opened several doors. However, not knowing which ones would lock behind me, I found myself stretched out, holding the door I just passed through with my left arm, while opening the next door with my right.

Eventually, I had gone down 2 flights of stairs and found myself in a dimly lit concrete box.

My only thought?

I am going to die here.


Get raped here.

And no one will EVER find me.

I opened the next door. The sound of rushing water.

Oh, great. You know what's on the other side of that door? I thought?


I'm going to die here. And get raped. BY SHARKS.

Thankfully, for all of us, not least of us me, what was on the other side of that door?

My car.