I like your sleeves.

Mom: Meg! Look at this picture from my wedding!
Me: Wow...are those the bridesmaids?
Mom: Yup! Don't you love the dresses?
Me: Yeah...especially the sleeves. (Sarcasm)
Mom: Oh because of the puffy shoulders?
Me: Sure.
Mom: That was the look back then!
Me: Mmmhmm.
Mom: Whatever...at least the hats are cute.

Dear Heartbreaker,

Although I am very gratful for opening a store close to home, I feel as though I've been cheating on Uptown with Southdale Square. Coming to see you was a breath of fresh (smoggy, polluted, smoky) air.
I'll tell you something, though, Heartbreaker, it is not cool when we find a sweet spot right in front of you and pop a couple quarters in the meter, only to be tapped by a little Audi TT trying to cheat the metering system by parking in between two paying cars. But it's okay, I don't blame you. We made up for it by filling up the meter and walking to Old Chicago in protest to Rich TT Lady who apparently can afford a very expensive car, but can't spare a few quarters.
Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for providing me with new, adorable jeans that were 50% off. Although I don't think I'll ever truly understand your sizing, I've come to think of it as a surprise when I try on your jeans. "Surprise! Size 00 fits you in this style" and then two pairs later "Wow! I never knew I was a size 14 in the same brand."

Thank you Heartbreaker, say hi to the kids for me, and have a happy new year.

Love,
Muffin

Highlights Of A Muffin Family Christmas

Our 4'8" dear grandma Joan who, after two sips of Franzia, apologizes for her being "dumb" and insists that "it's all an act kids!"

A series of newly 21 year olds, sharing drunken stories of being of age, as they awkwardly take sips of their Coke. Various relatives continue to enter the room telling them that they are the reason they got vodka this year and to "drink up".

Enough velvet furniture to put a decent person over the edge.

Women in dress suits that blended with the curtains in the background, and their husbands decked in complimenting sweaters.

On the last grocery run, a forty-something woman who ran into the giant revolving door next to me, gave me a nice arm slap and exclaimed, "Dontchyah ever notice how whenever you look like just CRAP all the guys are lookin' atchya and then when you look GREAT they want NUTHIN' to do with ya?! ISN'T THAT THE TRUTH?? (another arm slap)".

And of course, my pride and joy, a new Starbucks travel mug, with a suction-seal lid so that it can't spill. She's red and beautiful, complete with carabeiner handle clip. It's about the features people.


Happy Politically Correct Holidays.

Remedy From The Heart...Or Mystery Meds?

Why is it that when I get really sick and Dr. R puts me on a 5 day antibiotic that's supposed to blow any infection from my system to pieces, it does nothing; yet when Mom makes me chicken noodle soup, I feel better?

When I was little, Santa was never a true reality due to 3 older siblings. So I developed this theory in my 7 year old head that parents went to a secret class when they had kids where they learned how to put the presents out, hide Easter baskets, and steal our teeth during the pitch of the night without us waking up. The magic soup has rekindled these memories, along with new suspicions.

I Hope Steven Gets Fat

While looking at an online photo journal of a friend...we'll call her Susie.

Steven: Damn, Susie is getting fat.
Me (slap): SHUT UP!
Steven: WHAT? Its true!
Me: You're soo mean! Don't say that!
Steven: You say that now, but then she gets fatter and you're gunna be like "Damn....we should have said something back then."

Meet Leaky

Leaky is a snow globe that we've had upward of 10 years now, but within the past 3 or 4, he seems to be slowly losing water from his bubble. How? We do not know. Leaky now resides on a coffee table with a window view on a coaster.

His Life, Accomplished

While driving by our local elementary school, where there is an ice cream social going on..

Me: Oh the Ice Cream Social..those were always such a flop when we were there.
Steven: Yeah, if I ever own an elementary school, during our ice cream socials, there's going to be an open bar for the parents.

A Life, Accomplished

If I die today, I would feel as though I had passed on my wisdom on some degree.

While getting ready for a funeral, Steven came into my room..

Steven: Hey Meg..can you wear a dress jacket with non-dress pants?
Me: It depends..
>He steps into the light, and to my horror, he is wearing navy blue dress pants with a black button up shirt and black blazer.
Me: absolutely not. No. Never. Not like that. Go take it off. Now.
Steven: Why?
Me: Steven, do not, EVER wear navy and black. Ever. Always remember that.

He comes to find me a few moments wearing brown corduroys.

An Open Letter To The Future Me

Dear Future Me,

I want you to remember this letter, when you are old and grey, and remember not to do the following things, although by then, you will be even more wickedly stubborn, and will do all of them despite this. Oh well, you deserve it now, you stale muffin.

1. Do not buy an unreal amount of hat boxes. You should not, and will not have hats to put in them.
2. Your grandchildren do not like rutabagas or parsnips, no matter how good you think they are.
3. Do not buy black, pleather Reebok sneakers, no matter how good for your arches they are, or how many pairs they have at TJ Max.
4. Do not buy a matching outfit that is cadet blue and involves cuff-gathering and/or a turtle neck. If you should slip on this or #3, do not, under any circumstances, wear them together.
5. It is still not okay to paint your fingernails gold.
6. Stop trying to understand computers, you're old and will not get it. Or, depending on technological advances, stop trying to understand how to run your new jet pack.
7. Don't buy ugly curtains. Remember what you thought was ugly in 2005, and remember that its probably still ugly.
8. Still get a real Christmas tree this year, no matter how much it hurts future husband's back to carry it.
9. Do not buy your granddaughter a horse light switch plate for her 13th birthday, a string of horse lights for her 14th, a tee shirt with a giant horse on it for her 15th, and a wrought iron model horse for her sweet 16. She stopped liking horses by her 9th.
10. Tip big.

I hope you'll take all of this into consideration at your elderly age.

Best of Wishes,

You

I'll Take A Carton

Coming from an unknown origin, my friends sometimes call me "Meggo" as a sort of embarrassing nickname. In the car today, Alex used it when asking me a question, but we were interrupted by Kristof, because apparently, in France, a "meggo" is the butt of a cigarette. Cute.

This One's For You, Deb.

Have you ever noticed that every single time you go into the dentist, while they get their nasty, tooth scratching, death tools ready, they ask you the exact same questions every time? Its ALWAYS about the weather, no matter what season. Spring: "Ah, so the rain's still comin' down pretty hard..huh?" Summer: "Still pretty hot out? Its just KILLING my lawn!" Fall: "Gettin' pretty chilly out, isn't it...time to dig up the jackets for the kids..." and then on a day like today.."How was the drive over here? It was pretty slippery this morning..". They always manage to slip in their two cents with their passive-aggressive attitude about how "they've been inside allll day and so they don't know the temperature" and therefore, must ask you.
Today, I was getting a cavity filled and after a couple novocain injections, I felt oddly open to my dental hygienist, Deb. I told her all about my morning at the U of M research center, although I think she was a little turned off when I told her I gave a dead pig stitches. The conversation was recovered when I brought up the huge diversity of people in Dinkytown, and how interesting the area is. However, I did develop a small shoulder chip when they began to file my teeth. I was reminded of how much I truly despise the smell of tooth clippings, as well as my deep hatred towards the feeling of cotton balls, especially when they put them in my mouth.

From A Company That Employs Kids As Young As 14.

Recently, our managers have been on our cases at work about leaving cups of soda around the kitchen, because apparently they fall over, and people "slip, get hurt, and then we have to call 911 and cover their shift". They tried to enforce "chug it and dump it" where we just gulp down 20 oz of bubbly soda in seconds, but that didn't go over so well. And of course, working around ovens doesn't make for a cool breeze for hours at a time, so still, full cups are left places.
However, I walked into work the other day to one of my coworkers drinking out of a double shot glass. I first questioned his chemical dependence on alcohol, but was then informed that this is the solution to our "drinking problems" at work. Pun intended. We're to use the plastic double shots from here on out whenever we're thirsty.

Synonyms...Kind Of.

In France, he spells his name Kristof, and I was in denial until just now that I should spell it that way. Its growing on me. So he's Kristof, the FES--formerly known as Christof.

Alex (host sister): Kristof, PLEASE leave me alone I'm trying to write an essay.
Kris: No. I'm deconcentrating you.




Kris: [flailing wrist] What is this?
Alex: Waving?
Kris: No...THIS [Points to wrist]
Alex: Wrist?
Kris: No! [points again]
Alex: Joint?
Kris: Umm..no..I think it is...an...articulation?

The 3 Most Frightening Moments In The Past 24 Hours

1. After turning off my lamp last night, the glowing head of a bear was floating in the corner of my room. After seeing my entire life flash before my eyes, I realized it was the DoodleBear I got Sadie for Christmas. (Let me bring you back to 1993ish if you don't remember DoodleBear. Its a stuffed animal bear that you draw on. The old commercial was a revamp on a James Brown song. Since then, apparently they glow in the dark.) Does that make it less creepy? Absolutely not.

2. I saw a Hormel Chili commercial who's slogan was "Hormel Chili...Goes On Everything". It involved the everyday food of towns people miraculously changing into a can of Hormel Chili with Beans.
Dear Hormel Inc.-
Your chili doesn't go with everything.
Love, Me.

3. Mom was sifting through some old files on her computer and stumbled upon a memory or two. To be more specific, a recording of Steven and I making fart noises at ages four and five. After a few solid laughs, she informed us that we actually formatted the recording to play when she closed a specific file and she happened to close that file for the first time while on the phone with a client.

Katie Hawkins?

>>"Charlie Brown Christmas" starts on TV...

Mom: Aww...I wish Katie** and Lauren* were here to watch it with us!
Me: Katie?
Mom: Crap. Sadie*.
Me: Wow...
Mom: I'm watching The Apprentice.


*My nieces, her granddaughters.
**Unknown.

Out Like Nalgenes

Steven: You know what I think, Meg?
Me: What?
Steven: When iPods go out of style, they'll REALLY go out. Like...people are just going to suddenly stop buying them. It'll be just like Nalgenes.

Public Service Announcement.

Consider this free advertisement for www.pandora.com (and also an official notice that blogspot and I are in fight due to him not letting me use the bold, italic, or link features)

Pandora.com is a sweet site that a friend of mine tipped me off to. You enter a band or song that you're into, and it will look at the stats or "genes" of the song to create a radio station of songs that according to that band or song, you'd like. Whatever song it comes up with, you can say that you don't like it and will alter the station with each song you accept or reject. Its considered the "Music Genome Project". Its totally free, and completely legal (psh..like that'd stop you guys anyways..)because you can't access the songs as MP3's.

"Four Stars" -Me.

In The Lead

Number of velvet jumpsuits Mom tried to make me buy last night (including the ones that "slipped" into the pile of dressing room clothes): 2,909,493 (Approximate)

Number Bought: 0 (Exact)

Score:

Megan: 1
Mom: 0

Get Rich Or Die Of Old Age

Steven: Hey Mom...wanna play me in Halo?
Mom: Umm...Sure...
S: Okay here...now push this button to shoot, and use this to walk
>>Beeping
S: No, the other one
>>Beep
S: Nope..the green one
>>Beep
(Steven gets up)
S: THIS one
M: Oh! Okay. You know this would be much easier with my glasses...
S: The buttons are pretty big mom
M: Still...
S: Okay anyways, see these dots? Yours are blue, you need to keep all of these and shoot the guys to keep yours. Mine are red.
M: Are they all mine?
S: Yeah.
(Starts game)
M: How do I move?
S: This
M: Right.
S: Okay go.
M: AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! ITS SHAKING! OH MY GOSH WHAT'S GOING ON!?!?!
S: You died.
M: Oh. Okay. (Player wanders around lost)
S: Okay I'm going to come up to level two and help you.
M: WHO'S THAT? THEIR GUNNA KILL ME!!!
S: That's me.
M: Their dots are blue.
>>Game player talks from TV
M: Shut up.


And last night...
Kanye is on Barbara Walters talking about his rap music.

Dad: Oohhh...like Fifty Cents...huh, Meg?
Me: Wow..
Dad: Feh-ee Cents?
Me: Nope.
Dad: Fifty C-eh-ntzz?
Me: No.

Tripping Billies

On my Mom's calendar in the bathroom, the following is listed for last weekend:
November 25th: Dave S. (S for Simpson...as in going bowling with her brother)
November 26th: Dave M. (M for Matthews...as in the concert)

I'm glad to know that Uncle Dave and Dave the Dave are on the same playing field. Although somehow, I can't really see ol' Uncle Dave jamming out to Rapunzel on the Guitar....But I guess I can't really see Dave Matthews hitting pins with my Mom.

Donde Esta Regular Christmas Songs?

Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas music a LOT...I mean, I was illegally listening to the Christmas Superstation a week or so before Thanksgiving. And hey, I'm all for the cultural remixes. With the exception of the one I heard tonight; "Donde Esta Santa Clause?" performed by a Hispanic boy who couldn't have had more than 8 years under his belt. I won't go into too many details, but it involved replacing Blitzen with "Poncho" and Doner with "Pedro".

Ouch.

Things I'm NOT Thankful For

When out for her birthday dinner at a Chinese restaurant, Mom thought it'd be fun to teach the grandparents about the old "in bed" trick when you get a fortune cookie. You know..where you add "in bed" to the end of your fortune? Something my mother shouldn't know about anyways, and then shouldn't tell her hard of hearing parents about in a public place, if at all.

Imagine all of the following being yelled in the dining room of a small Chinese restaurant by a series of elderly people.

"There is in the worst of fortunes the best chance of a happy ending...in bed"

"Where there is no vision, the people perish...in bed."

"Politeness costs nothing and gains everything..in bed."

"The thing I fear most is fear...in bed"

"There is no shame in failure- only in quitting....in bed."

These are the same grandparents whose answering machine is "Thanks for calling Sally and Wally, leave a message after the tone, by golly".

Insert sound of dirty boot stomping my childhood memories to a pulp.

Hey Mom...Guess where I am right now?

Up until Sunday, the most impulsive thing I'd ever done was probably subscribe to Cosmo and Marie Claire by way of a 2-for-1 deal.
But I adopted a celebrity status for November 20th by making a spontaneous trip to NYC for the day. A friend of mines mom works for Northwest and gets discounted tickets, and my friend had never been.
Some highlights were...
-H&M..I bought something red because I own(ed) nothing red.
-D.M. Babar...Our cab driver who honked at everything with a pulse, and cones.
-Not falling over in the subway.
-Meeting someone that was in the World Trade Center on September 11th
-First Class..My first time and totally the icing on the cake...although I do regret not taking advantage of "the restrooms at the front of the aircraft which are reserved for our first class passengers". I think the only time I've EVER not peed on a flight. Why, bladder? Why?

We were back in the bubble by 10:30 pm, absolutely exhausted. But I guess that tops a years' worth of magazines I don't read.

Cultures, Confused

I walked into the kitchen of a friends house last night, and Christophe was blotting his hand with a paper towel..

Me: Chris are you bleeding?
Chris: Ah, yes, but it is okay.
Me: Oh what happened?
Chris: I was..ah...doing..[begins to make hand movement]...
Me: Drawing?
Chris: Um..yes!
Me: Oh...really?
Chris: Yes..the..[begins to sound out something I can't decipher]
Me: Were you drawing with like charcoal or something?
Chris: YES! What is the word? Say again.
Me: Charcoal?
Chris: Yes! Cha-col.
Me: Uh..yup!

So I walk into the other room and come back a few minutes later to Eric in the kitchen with Chris...

Eric: Meg, what the hell did you tell Chris that air hockey was?
Me: Oh. Crap.

The Results Are In

For the past year or so, I've found myself involved in a personal debate between toothpaste the paste and toothpaste the gel (toothgel doesn't feel right). I never really had a preference, but decided that I needed to take some sort of stand on the issue. Because my brothers and I have always shared an inter-sibling community tube of toothpaste, it never really mattered if it was paste or gel, because just finding the tube was the issue. But after a recent trip to the dentist, Dr.T told me that my tooth sensitivity could be a result of the toothpaste I'm using and should stay away from tartar control, whitening formula, and baking soda. Low and behold, I got home to investigate my paste and found that I was using none other than Colgate Advanced Whitening with Tartar Control. I looked under the sink for a possible plain old tube, and found one, only to see that the expiration date (who knew?) was January of 2001. So I ventured to trusty ol' Target and inspected the tooth aisle like nobodies business. All natural, 8 hour protection, BubbleMint, Baking Soda and Peroxide Fresh Stripe, Glitter Paste, Simply White, Luminous Smile, and everything in between. Stuffed in the back right on the bottom shelf was just plain old Colgate, and in the back left on the bottom shelf; plain old Crest. In two varieties, and the ultimate decision, Paste or Gel. After much debate, I decided on gel because my last was paste. After a few uses, I saw the goopy mess that gel really is. It gets everywhere, stains, and I think actually produces about 700% more saliva mess in your mouth.
So, Paste it is.
And as for the Paste with Gel Stripe feature?
Well my friend, that's one for the ages.

This Is SO Not Happening.

Velvet (Noun) [veL-vit]: A fabric which should forever be laid to rest with the past two decades.

Mom: Megan, you really need to start developing a liking towards velvet..!
Me: Why?
Mom: Because its SO coming back!
Me: No, Mom. No.

Sweet Caroline..Ba Ba Bum...No? Nothing? Right Then.

Charlie: What?! NO! The ONE day that I decide to wear a suit the most annoying republican ever decides to wear one also!
Dan: Neil Diamond!?
>Pause
>>Hysterical laughter
>Pause
>>Realization that Dan is 100% serious.
Me: Dan..Do you even know who Neil Diamond is?
Dan: Um. I guess not.

We Have Nothing to Fear

But Fear Itself.

I was talking to Christophe tonight, and he brought me to this realization that Americans are afraid of everything. Its actually pretty shocking at everything we fear. We fear commitment and marriage, then comes the fear of having kids and being a parent, which comes with the fear of responsibility, so giving life is scary right? But wait, isn't the number one fear of a huge percent of Americans death? Then we fear things like going to the mall by ourselves that we might get abducted by some sort of fugitive, but we're too afraid to stay in our houses all day, because we fear loneliness. Germs are scary. Some of us don't even drink tap water because its not as sanitary as the bottled stuff. If we drop, say, a spoon on the floor, we immediately go get a new one, or if its food, we throw it away. But we all know that using that spoon won't kill us, or even make us sick. We fear getting cavities or having yellow teeth, but then go home and brush them so strenuously that it actually causes more cavities. We're afraid of our health and get medicine for everything, but don't want to take it because it might give us something else. We drink Diet Coke to keep a trim figure, but it has cancer causing carcinogens, which we're also afraid of.
Chris thought it was insane that his host sister actually wanted a new glass of water when there was one sitting on her dresser, just because it had been there for a couple of days. He didn't think twice when he pocketed a small piece of fur that he found on the ground when he went on a walk.

Why are we so afraid?!

Thou Shall Not Steal

Went to get communion at church this morning.
Came back to seat.
Mittens gone.
Emotionally stricken.
Send help.
And Tissues.

And I Quote

A recap on my day with Colleen.

We had lunch at Qdoba today, and were sitting down at table where there was one of those table ads for the restaurant. It was for Qdoba catering and said "Easy enough to feed more than 100, good enough to want to".
Conversation goes as follows:
Colleen: Meg, I don't get it.
Me: Well, Qdoba caters so-
Colleen: Ohhhhh!
Me: Do you really get it now or did you just make that noise so I'd think you got it?
Colleen: I just made that noise. I still don't get it.

Post Qdoba, we walked across the parking lot to this store that sells all the stuff you see Paris dress her dog in. We walked in to the tiny store where small dogs were wandering around barking loudly. We were towards the back of the store when I heard an awfully close bark. I look at Colleen.
Me: Colleen...Did you just bark?
Colleen: Yes.

After getting Starbucks, we went to Len Druskin and tried on ridiculously expensive jeans. And at stores like this, commission-paid employees follow you around like children asking you your name, if they can get you a cold beverage, what size you are, and if they can take more things back to your dressing room for you. Since we never buy anything when we go, we decided that this time, we'd give them fake names just for the hell of it.
Nate (Our L.D. helper): Hey! Can I take some of that stuff for you?
Colleen: Sure!
Nate: And what was your name?
Colleen: Oh...uhh...(literally, 10 seconds passes)...umm..Colleen...uhh..sorry..

After three strikes, we go back to her house to watch TV, apparently unfit for public display. Happily settled on I Love The 80's 1984, they showed a news clip of Tom Brokaw talking about Ronald Reagan.
Me: Oh look! Tom Brokaw!
Colleen: Aw..Rest in peace Tom!
Me: Colleen..He's not dead...He just retired.
Colleen: Oh. Right.

Thanks Steveo, For Spreading The Sick

Steven, my brother, acquired some sort of nasty, achey, sneezy, coughy, snotty, blurred vision cold and has taken to spreading it throughout the family. I went to school today, and noticed my voice going in and out of noise all day. During Lit today, I thought I'd participate and share what elements artists use in romanticism paintings.

The Plan:
Me: "Symbolism"
Mrs.B: "Good!"

What Happened:
Me: "--IM-zm" (The hyphen represents where there was no noise and just strange lip movements.)
Class: "HAHAHA!"
Mrs.B: "HAHAHA!"
Me: ----

And He Saw That It Was Good

Did it happen with Jurassic Park? No. Did it happen with Captain Crunch? No. Did it happen with The Land Before Time? Hell no. But Tootsie Roll Industries has done it. They have created the first ever sequel that was better than the original.
In 1949, Warner-Lambert Company developed Junior Mints.
C'mon- you know, the nasty white mint cream covered in chocolate?
Yes.
I knew you knew.
Anyways, in 1993, the Warner-Lambert Company was bought out by Tootsie Roll Industries, giving them the rights to Sugar Daddy, Sugar Baby, Charleston Chew, and Junior Mints.
Yesterday at work, I was cleaning up after a group that used our party room for a Birthday. While filling the napkin holders and stacking cups, I spied with my little eye a treat bag filled with candy. I hid it in my bag behind the washing machine and brought it home that night. At 12:30, when I was getting into bed, I saw the yellow happy face bag sticking out of my purse. I opened it, not expecting to want any candy after midnight (what was I thinking?) but the familiar white box caught my eye, because it did not say "Junior Mints" in that green font, but instead, "Junior Caramels". I opened it and popped one in my mouth, my expectations low. The chocolate was soft but not meltly, and the caramel dripped out just as the chocolate shell cracked. It was love at first bite.

Thank you Tootsie Roll Industries, you have made these past 56 years worth while.

Su Casa es Mi Casa?

Its not like I'm not happy with my house, but when you could very easily live in your friend's mansion without any member of their family noticing for a solid three to four months, you can't help but wonder...

We drove into Jackie's bi-level driveway last night, about two blocks away from Lake of the Isles. Through the garage, we pass her Cadillac, Suburban, and both of the Mercedes, and enter the old world castle. A couple bedrooms, a workshop, a kitchen, a bathroom, a 1/2 done living room, and THEN we go up to the main floor. The entire level has amazing 12 foot ceilings, hard wood floors, windows for walls that overlook downtown Minneapolis, antique telescopes, model ships, filled bookshelves with all time classics, and original paintings. The fridge and freezer put my in-door ice maker to shame, together easily bigger than my closet. A pantry filled with anything you'd want, and nothing was expired (an entirely new concept to me). Two ovens, a wine cooler, and kitchen appliances that surely have the intelligence to launch a NASA rocket ship well out of our stratosphere. Upstairs, we go into Jackie's room. Opening her closet, Louis Vutton purses fall from the shelves, and new Coach heels lay on the ground under her extensive wardrobe of designer jeans, trendy tops, and dresses I definitely saw someone wear at the Oscars. Walking into her bathroom, my feet are greeted by heated floor tiles. An early 1900's vanity with matching stool sit in the corner, and when approaching it, I find that its surface is covered with none other than Chanel make up. I felt in another world picking up the little gold pots, tubes and brushes, trying to figure out the purpose of half of it was. Her parents each have a walk in closet that Usher had on an episode of Cribs I saw once, and of course, his and her sinks. Empty bedrooms of two college-bound sisters each with equally impressive amenities, and we go up yet another flight of stairs to see a couple of offices with framed dipolmas flooding the walls, two more guest bedrooms, and an expansion room with sofas, TV, more books, and another stocked kitchen.

But hey.
My house is nice too.
We've got a tree house.

Two Tears For Every Inch

I got my hair cut today.
Its a sad, sad day.
Every few months or so, I'll get a sudden vibe that I NEED a haircut. This vibe is usually followed two or three minutes later by a frantic phone call to Design Line to see if June is available to cut my locks, right then. Of course, she's not, so I make an appointment for the next day, unless that's not available, I hang up, and make an impulse decision to go to Master Cuts. No joke. I've done it. Twice.
I always have a really good idea of what I want my hair to look like, or how much I want cut off but then I get there, panic, and tell her to just trim the edges and the bang. Tonight, (June happened to have a cancellation at 6:15 tonight when I called this afternoon) I had to have someone else explain what I wanted done, because I started to lie, and the words "just trim the.." were rolling off my tongue. But whether it goes according to plan or not, I ALWAYS go through withdrawal.
I walked out of Design Line today and tears were welling up in my eyes. I begin to pet the ends, missing Bottom Two Inches. Bottom Two Inches have been there the longest, and have seen the most of my life than any other inches. I feel like I have betrayed them. BTI, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just cut you out of my life and these last years have meant a lot to me.
I just wish I could have said good bye.
May you rest in peace, BTI, forever in the Miracle Mile dumpster.
Or at least until seven tomorrow morning when the garbage man comes to collect you.
Then may you rest in peace while depleting the ozone layer in a South American waste land.

To Be A FES.

Christophe is a foreign exchange student from France, and the best thing to ever happen to the bubble.

Exhibit A:

Christophe(When trying to explain how a girl in his French class wont stop following him around): She is very...How you say...Sticky.
Me: What?
Chris: Sticky. Lizzie is sticky.
Me: Clingy?
Chris: What?
Me: Cllingyyyy
Chris: Cligney?
Me: No, cliNGy
>Both explode in confusion<


Exhibit B:

(While talking to his extremley protective-of-her-own-children, super conservative host mother, they look at pictures of Chris's drunken going away party in France)

Host Mother: So theres girls in this picture Chris...do you guys have like...co-ed sleep overs?
Chris: Ah...yes? (a bit of confusion)
HM: WOW! DO YOU GUYS LIKE...HAVE SEX?!?
Chris: No, you see, we have much to drink, and then- we pass out. Then we cannot have the sex.
HM: *blink*



More to come.

Keep the Change

Today I went to Target to replace the Carmex I lost this weekend.
I walk in, find the lip care aisle, gather my loot, and stroll up to check out lane 8 where Mike rings it up.

Mike: That'll be $1.05 ma'am.
I hand him 4 quarters and a nickel.
Mike: Wow perfect change!
Me: Haha..Yup.
Mike moves his eyes from the coins, to the Carmex, to the register, to me.
Mike: Would you like to save eleven cents by opening up a Target membership card today?
Me: [A quizzical look appears on my face, trying evaluate the sincerity of his question] Um, no thanks, Mike.
Mike: I hear you loud and clear.

Thank you Target, but I think I'll save this golden opportunity for a time when I plan on buying more than chap stick.
Maybe next time I run out of shampoo or if I need a single stick of gum or something.

Love at first....Fall.

Oh, how I love fall.
Its the perfect season..not inhumanly hot to the point where you must sweat your soul, but not so cold that going to get the mail means you may forfeit some necessary appendages.
I wait all year for the chance to walk down the block, right next to the curb and walk through the 6 inches of leaves that collects there every year.
I love to rake the leaves in my back yard, with my trusty work gloves that make me feel like a real gardener. I love the noise of the fallen leaves crushing together with every rake-stroke, but most of all, the pay out at the end. No, my mom does not pay me to rake, but I collect all the leaves from the trees in my back yard and put them in a huge pile at the foot of the ladder to my tree house. I filter through to rid them of pokey sticks, and rotten crab apples, sure to spoil the mass. And then, with not a shred of shame in me, climb to the 4th, (5th if I'm feeling risky) step of the ladder, and jump.
I love the sound of my corduroys making the corduroy noise wherever I walk, sure to make me smile if I'm walking in a hallway either by myself or with a complete stranger who must suffer through the whhit(step),whhit(step),whhit(step). Mittens can come out in the fall, another thing I look forward to after April forces them into my drawer. And to go with my mittens and corduroys- sweaters. Fall outfits are the only thing that make it okay to put away my beloved flip flops, although each fall, I seem to forget what shoes I wear in the non-summer months. I'm still trying to remember.
I love fall colors, mainly orange because its my favorite. Orange is the color of pumpkins which reminds me of the smell of the nasty you pull out when carving, a scent stapled into my memory with those pre-Halloween nights of my childhood, accompanied by the excitement and difficulty of deciding whether to be Mermaid Ariel or Princess Ariel that year. A clearly difficult dilemma only to be settled over the delicious confection that is candy corn. A sweet that is as waxy as it is perfect.
Lastly, I love that its called "fall". Non of that autumn nonsense for me. Its so simple, leaves fall, so it shall be called...Fall!

It's a beautiful thing.

Journalism: Not the path for me

11 pm Monday night, on the 24 Hour news channel.

Anderson Cooper: Well, ma'am, you've been reunited with your dog this evening, as she survived a month alone in the repercussions of Hurricane Katrina. A Chihuahua mix, isn't she?
Lady: Yes, her name is Precious.
Anderson Cooper: And how does it feel to be joined once again with Precious? Did she recognize you right away?
Lady: Yes, she did, it took her a moment to find me, but then she immediately recognized me.
Anderson Cooper: That's truly amazing, now I understand that you lost two other dogs in Hurricane Katrina?
Lady: Yes, I did.
Anderson Cooper: And what...uh..were their names?
Lady: Rico and Beefy.

Lessons learned...

...While working at a pizza/sandwich place.

1. Do not underestimate the force of a powerful overhead faucet. Especially while washing ladles.

2. Children in the 7th grade will always use "you're a _____" as a come back. See the following:

Kid A: [Walking into the store] Wow it sure is empty in here.
Kid B: You're empty..
Kid A: Can I please get a half turkey hoagie with no tomatoes?
Kid B: You're a tomato

3. It is a valid, and smart decision to wear no less than 7 aprons while washing dishes.

4. The dish room is very slippery when the no slip mats are taken up for cleaning.

5. Managers do not like it when you show up late.

6. Nor do they like it when you forget to clock out.

7. It's necessary to pick favorites throughout the store as well as reasoning for those favorites, to make it through a 6 hour shift on a Friday night. i.e. Favorite hoagie to make (half ham, for its sheer simplicity), favorite soap (sentry soap, because otherwise, I wouldn't know the word "sentry"), favorite microwave (microwave two because I can't reach microwave three, and one is always broken), favorite dish (the little plastic salad bar tops, because their so damn cute), etc.

8. It is not fun to be slapped on the face, or any part of your body, with a fully buttered bun.

9. With time, it becomes sad, yet true humor when you are unknowingly sprinkled with flour, and it stays there all night, until someone makes a phenomenally old dandruff joke.

A Lesson in Skill

Come on in. Okay sit down kids.
Today you'll be learning how to be skillful. See the following.

Exhibit A.
Subject 1 has a bad day and comes home to take her dog on a nice run thinking that it might be a nice way to make up for the giant bowl of ice cream she just had. Its raining outside so she thinks, well she'll just go around the school, and then down the big hill by way of oversized steps for young children. So she runs around the block, up through the school yard and the four square courts. Then, approaching the stairs, is overcome with the inner 4th grader who ran down those stairs everyday. This mentality does not come without the incapability to think "Hey, its raining, its slippery, don't run down the stairs" because that thought process didn't kick in until somewhere around the 8th grade. So Subject 1 picks up the pace, first at a nice jog and then suddenly into a full out sprint down the stairs. She thinks "Wow! I didn't think I actually had this hand-foot coordination in me!" Well, Subject 1, you do not encompass that, or any type of coordination. Attempt to slow down by the time she gets to the curb fail completely, resulting in a full-blown plant directly on the 2nd, newly painted, white rectangle on the crosswalk.

Exhibit B.
Subject 1 looses control of dog leash, sending small terrier off all by her lonesome. Feeling sorry for herself, Subject 1 proceeds to sit in the middle of the dark street as small terrier returns to the scene in sympathy for her walker. As it goes, Subject 1 looks up the street to see headlights coming her way, and stands up, realizing that the skin of her right knee now belongs to Square 2 of the crosswalk. Picking up the leash, she hobbled home in the rain.

Class Dismissed.

The unusually tall, hygiene, bobby pins, and other love/hate relationships

I'm not saying that tall people are BAD, just that they shouldn't stand directly in front of the rest of us at the Death Cab concert. And if you're planning on doing this, please, PLEASE, do not grow your curly hair out and then brush out your curls creating a giant, oversized afro, a tri-fro, if you will, going even further to block my vision of an acoustic version of "Soul Meets Body".
This rule actually applies to everyone, not just tall people.
But even the tallest, most giant fros could not keep me from the concert last night. It really was fabulous, and the First Ave atmosphere is incomparable. But coming home at a relatively early 10:30 lead to a lack of motivation to shower, biological clock confusion, and of course, the hungry. But apparently eating at night is really bad for you or something. So I went to bed covered in downtown nasty and with an empty stomach.

So this morning, I got up extra early to shower which is a big deal for me, as I've always been a night shower-er because my hair takes too long to blow dry and causes a lot of damage to your hair, and is considered visual damage to innocent bystanders if I let it just air dry throughout the day.
Well, all of that, and that extra half an hour in the morning is for sleep.
Anyways, after my unorthodox bathing routine, I had to find some way to deal with the beast (aka my hair) and pulled it up into this insane...Thing. I don't even know what to call it, it was so all over the place Starbucks could have set up shop in there.
And the worst part about it?
I just popped a few bobby pins in it (as if that made it okay?) and left.

Coffeeism No. 1

Do to yourself as you wish others to do to you.

Coffee, I did not ask you to dump yourself over onto my tevas, jeans, and eurobag, scalding the very skin on my itty bitty toes on their way to the market.
And after graciously forgiving you by drinking the rest, I did not ask you to dump yourself over upon my notebook and different jeans the very next day.
Nor did I ask you to do either of these acts before nine o'clock in the morning.

I want you to know, that we are officially in fight- and I would be in protest if you weren't so delicious.
I'm willing to forgive you when all of my jeans are clean, and I no longer smell of Starbucks Anniversary Blend.

Why Y?

Today in lit, we were talking about courage. And I was diligently taking notes, keeping up with the lecture, and even managing to come up with my own thoughts about courage somewhere in there, when it all came to a screetching halt. I found myself writing the word "courageous". Which is, by any means, a struggle. I mean, look at it. Its flippin 10 letters long, which might not be a big deal, other than that 6 of those letters are vowels.
So this got me thinking.
We can all recall back to about the 4th grade when we had to memorize the vowels. We all know them-- A,E,I,O,U. But how many were taught Y as a vowel? Personally I was taught it as more of a "half-way" vowel.
"A,E,I,O,U and sometimes Y"
Can I ask what Y ever did to deserve this "half-way" or sometimes not at all status?? All it ever did was make words like "why" work.
So from now on, please- think about all those times you felt a little "end of the alphabet-ish". Because Y doesn't have it hard enough.
I declare Y an official vowel, right now, at 3:40 pm on October 5th, 2005.

Somebody call Webster.

"Don't sweat the small stuff"

So just a minute or two ago, when I was supposed to be thinking about showering, (the pre-requisite to showering), for some reason, on my mental scroll, the age-old phrase, "don't sweat the small stuff" appeared.
Why?
How the hell should I know.
So it got me thinking, why is that such a commonly used phrase? When you think about it, it really doesn't make any sense at all. How could you possibly SWEAT the small stuff? Like do they mean physically? Is this to be taken literally? (Literal comments are for another date, my friend) And who, might I ask, is "they"? Who wrote this crazy falsity?!

Example No. 1:
Kid: Dad! I got 5/10 on my practice spelling quiz today!
Father: Aw, don't sweat the small stuff kiddo!
Kid: Okay! I'll make a note to stop perspiring misspelled words.

I declare this official Stop Making Up Phrases That Don't Even Make Sense Day where every false, commonly used phrase, which, lets face it, are pretty much only there for awkward silences, are hereby demolished.

And, yes.
This does mean that you may no longer use the "light bulb" classifier in regard to having a good idea unless you have every intention of carrying a light bulb around with you when you have plans of brainstorming.

JC Penney and other guilty pleasures...

So last year for a dance, my sister wanted to buy my dress because the dance happened to fall on my birthday. After much failed shopping, we resorted to JC Penney. The store where no employee speaks English, and every employee apparently smokes (because why else would it smell THAT bad?). After finding a dress that I thought would work and buying it, I got home to try it on and it didn't fit the way I wanted it to, so I go on back to edina's ash tray to return it, and sure enough, since I don't have Chris's credit card, they can only grant me a JC Penney gift card. That's right. $80 to a store that carries only Mudd jeans and SouthPole baseball jackets. You might as well have given me 40 pounds of human hair.
...or so I thought.
After several unsuccessful visits to get rid of the card, I found myself actually finding things I liked. Skirts for Europe, a hot pink polo, and this blue shirt which served as the womb of my muffin shirt. And the best part is, their clothes are so dirt cheap that they only make a small dent in the card..And if the clothes get demolished for whatever reason, you don't feel that bad because 'it was just from JC Penney'.
Then I got this hideous green shirt that I thought had hope to be reconstructed into something cool, but its just too ugly. But when I went to retrieve the receipt, it was gone. So when I went to southdale, I asked the nice JC Penney lady if you had to have a receipt to return things, and she said no, but if you didn't, they could only give you a, (drum roll please)
gift card.

life is beautiful, even if a percent of my wardrobe is St. Johns Bay.

Tricky peas.

These are peas.
They are bright, beautiful, bold, green peas. And you know what? I don't like peas. I had them for dinner tonight, and everytime my mom asks if I want peas (completely beside the point that she'll give them to me regardless of what I tell her) I say yes, thinking that maybe this time, I will like them. But no, I won't. I've decided that its when you pop one pea in your mouth and split that...Pea-skin, if you will, that makes me want to like them so bad. So tonight, I take a nice full spoonful of them, with such a huge anticipation that today will be the day that I will eat them, and like them. And its not. Once again. Then, after that first bite, I just think; "hey maybe that first bite was just a bad one.." So I have another, and another. Until their gone- thoroughly disappointed in each and everyone of them.

>>Edit
4:00 pm-
mom: hey you ate all of your peas!
me: [disgruntled tone] psh..yes.
mom: want to take a picture so you can show all the internet people that you ate them?
me: no mom.

blogg

ahh! new blog. so exciting.
just so you all dont think im off the deep end somewhere, hanging with those fish that actually have lightbulbs in them (which are pretty damn cool if i do say so myself)....
my favorite word is loaf, hense the address. and banana isnt a favorite..its just a really cool word. muffin is my second favorite..which i have taken to as my alias along with the universal sign for confusion: ?.
yess.
and while i was stressing out about what to title this blog, i was blankly gazing at a pair of ugly blue scissors, thinking about what a fabulous noise scissors make when you use them.
so maybe i am off the deep end.
you be the judge.
meanwhile i'll use a fish as my reading light.