Thursday, October 28, 2010

I guess they call this growing up?

Thursday, October 28, 2010
There are a lot of things I used to do *cough*still do*cough* that I thought were really clever, but actually just make me an asshole. Because I'm preparing for The Year of Shame, where I will attempt to shame myself and others out of their bad habits and behaviours, it's time to fess up.
 
1. Correcting grammar and spelling on menus, signs and posters with a sharpie. This is neither original nor polite. Plus, spending most of a 40 hour work week for the last five years correcting other people's grammar kind of sucks the joy out of it.
 
2. Using coffee mugs or wearing things with either independent radio station logos OR local indie rock band logos on them when I don't listen to either. Or donate money to their fundraisers. I just want people to think I listen to CJSW because it's the cool thing to do. Apparently the fact that I listen to the Classic Rock station or the Glee soundtrack when left to my own devices is shameful enough to make me think it's okay to LIE.
 
3. Reading books by, say, Naomi Klein and then taking every single opportunity possible to reference them, proving to people that I've read them. Uh, no one cares that I've been trying to impress them by reading impressive shit.
 
4. Stocking my office bookshelves with back-issues of The Walrus, Mental Floss, Adbusters, Maison Neuve...etc...because I want the people I work with to think I do something other than read Glamour. Oddly enough, this is sort of only half applicable because in purchasing those magazines, I've contributed to keeping them afloat. Also, sometimes I get bored and flip through them and realize that they are all awesome publications. So...jury's still out on this.
 
5. I occasionally do not recycle. Make it even the SLIGHTEST bit difficult for me when I'm in a bad mood and that newspaper is going in the trash can. Sorry, Earth.
 
6. Ordering high-maintenance and annoying drinks at Starbucks, because I thought a $6 cup of coffee was a status symbol and that making some poor barista's morning just a little more difficult meant that I had power. Whatever. Extra hot, no foam, three shots - now I just want some damn coffee.

Monday, October 18, 2010

On Dan Humphrey

Monday, October 18, 2010
Recently I have become somewhat obsessed with watching old episodes of Gossip Girl. I am sort of ashamed that I enjoy a show about outrageously privileged teenagers so much, but the truth is - I don't think this is a show about teenagers FOR teenagers. Like the film 'Easy A', this is a show about teenagers for people who USED to be teenagers. And now either want to re-live their glory days or chuckle inwardly about the hilarity of their mistakes.

Case in point, one Dan 'Lonely Boy' Humphrey.

Dan Humphrey is 2002 Megan's IDEAL boy. He's sensitive. He's dark and gangly. His dad is a former rockstar who now is somehow associated with a gallery. He has a good relationship with his sister. He's sensitive. He's a poet. He's non-threatening, because... He's probably gay.

See? Ideal.

But the problem with 2002 Megan's (and 2004 Megan, and 2005 Megan, 2006 Megan, and even early 2007 Megan) Ideal Boyfriend is, aside from the fact that he probably is gay, is that he is a DOUCHE.

Lonely Boy up there is going to suck 2002 Megan DRY. He's going to be all tortured and soulful and look at her with those puppy-dog eyes, and he's going to write long, wistful poems and short stories for her and about her, and gaaahd, 2002 Megan is going to love it.

Until he sleeps with her former best friend/current nemesis EVEN THOUGH he told you he thought that sex was SPECIAL (obvs. just to get into her pants) and then she realizes that he copied all of his stupid poems word-for-word from the works of an author who ISN'T EVEN OBSCURE. Douche.

But he talks about things other than hockey and boobs. He really seems to care. So she'll let it slide. Again.

Dan Humphrey, and his swoony ways, is what young women who are vaguely uncomfortable in their skin and who are probably just a little bit smarter than most of their high school friends but aren't comfortable with that either THINK they want.

Thank god most of them come to their senses. The other ones, well...it might take them some time but they'll get there eventually. Even if it means watching Teen Soap Operas in their spare time to help them figure shit out.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Engagement Chicken

Thursday, October 14, 2010
Several years ago, Glamour Magazine published a recipe for roasted chicken. As internet legend has it, several Glamour staff members made this chicken and shortly thereafter, their boyfriends proposed - so the magazine dubbed it "Engagement Chicken" and *swears* that if you make it, it'll make your guy pop the question.

I.

Call.

Bullshit.

Google 'Engagement Chicken' and you'll find thousands of forum posts, blog entries and comments from women who are trying it - and a good chunk of them swear that it worked. They made the chicken. Ring landed on their finger. The End. The discussions are wild, actually. The number of poor, unsuspecting men that have come home from a hard day at work to find the Engagement Chicken lurking on the dinner table with a hearty side of expectations and a cold, cold dish of resentment for dessert if it doesn't work is staggering.

I mean, honestly. Do you really think a chicken is going to make your boyfriend decide he wants to spend the rest of his life with you?

Well, folks, I tried this Engagement Chicken recipe.

EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO.

And the only thing hanging out on my left hand is a papercut.

Last night we had Slightly Embittered Long-Term Commitment I'm Not Getting Any Younger Shepard's Pie for dinner.

And it was pretty tasty, I might add.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Reasons for and against an ereader

Tuesday, October 12, 2010
So I'm thinking about buying myself a fancy new ereader. The fact that I'm now blogging about it means that it's a pretty sure deal, but I need to account for a few holiday gifts, etc before I spend $150 on a gadget for myself.

Pros:

1. It's light. My purse is HEAVY. Usually because there's a paperback or two kicking around in it.

2. It's packable. I always take two or three or nine books on any trip longer than overnight. This would be a definite plus, and cut down on my seriously heavy luggage.

3. It's high-tech and appeals to my materialistic GenY nature. GIMME!

4. I could read things like...well, this:


source

in public without covering it with an alternative dust jacket or hiding.

Cons:

1. I'd be reading nothing but Kilted, Time-Travelling, Bodice-Ripping Historical trash, 24 hours a day, because if no one can tell that it's Tolstoy I'm reading, what in God's name is the point of reading Tolstoy?!

Monday, October 11, 2010

thankful

Monday, October 11, 2010
I'm thankful for so much.

For this guy. Who looks at me like this, makes me feel like this every day, not just when I'm wearing a $300 dress and more rouge than befits a lady.



For parents who encourage me to learn, to grow, to seek new challenges and new opportunities, but provide incredible support, comfort and security when those opportunities are just too challenging. And who have a hell of a lot of fun.

For a brother who reminds me that we all grow up in different ways, who continually teaches me to develop my side of an argument carefully and with purpose and yet, to keep an open mind, and who reminds me to take a deep breath and chill out sometimes.

For the family I was born into, nutty and wacky and smart and genuine. For the family who has welcomed me in, generous, supportive and non-judgmental. For the friends who became the family that I chose, hilarious, brilliant and wickedly fun.

For the ability to express myself freely and strongly, for the ability to hold my tongue, and the sense to know which one to choose.

Sunday, October 03, 2010

The feeling you're describing is SHAME

Sunday, October 03, 2010
I can't be the only person who suddenly becomes really, really uncomfortable when Mr. Shue starts singing on Glee.

It's like a really awkward cross between titillated and embarrassed. Sort of like the first time I read that VC Andrews novel I found in Grandma D's house. Yeah, pretty much just like that, except now I can't look away and the image and soundtrack is forever seared into my mind.

Turning off those Flowers in the Attic kids and their weirdo triple-deep incest was, comparatively, quite easy.

I just replaced them with years and years of Highland-themed Harlequin novels and teenage vampire smut.

But Mr. Shue? Nope. The dark, tingly, icky feeling in my stomach will probably never go away.

Thanks, TV. Maybe next week I'll just watch Sister Wives instead.