Sigh.

To quote the immortal words of Michael Corleone, "you broke my heart, Fredo. You broke my heart." Now replace "Fredo" with the "2006 University of Iowa Football Team", and you get where I am at right now.

I would like to thank every member of the Hawkeye Football Team as well as the entire coaching staff for what could be the most disappointing season in recent history that culminated in a pathetic loss to the Texas Longhorns. Sigh.

In other news, I am adopting a very temporary Wolverine fan status for the Rose Bowl on Monday--only because I will be with a bunch of Michigan fans, and I really don't want to get beat up. But really, I got yelled at by a Michigan fan recently for not showing Big 10 allegiance. So I reserve the right to take back what I am about to type so it will not be held against me at a later time in life.

Go Blue!

Happy Fucking New Year

I hate New Years. It is by far my least favorite holiday (with Easter coming in a close 2nd--only cause no one goes out drinking to celebrate Easter. Hmmm....maybe I should start that trend. Who is with me????!!!) Yes, it is true that I have no plans. Before you start accusing me of having no friends, which is true, let me explain why I hate it so.

• The typical attire for women is usually something that provides the same amount of coverage as boobie tassels


• it's fucking cold outside


• cabs are impossible to find


• all the people from Jersey come in to "party"


• I don't want to pay $100 to gain access to a bar that I can normally go to FREE. Sure, there is an open bar, but I can assure you that I normally don't drink $100 worth of alcohol to make my night more cost efficient (although I have tried).


• the pressure to make out with someone at midnight is too much. Usually you just end up making out with the closest guy next to you who chances are came in from Jersey for the night (see above). Gross.


• I still don't know the words to Auld Lang Syne.

Happy Fucking New Year.

Blogging for dummies.

Only cause I love these things....

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought? Nice circles under your eyes, Meg.
2. How much cash do you have on you? um, I think about $1.50 in change. I hate carrying around cash cause I always spend it on stupid stuff like US Weekly and Coke Zero.
3. What’s a word that rhymes with “door?”. Whore.
4. Favorite planet? Uranus.
5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone? Erin, my sister
6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone? I only have one that I use. "Brass Monkey" by the Beastie Boys. I used to have the 90210 ring on my old phone. It was pretty sweet, and I have been known to do the Brandon Walsh fist pump after the first few notes
7. What shirt are you wearing? I have on a white Old Navy long sleeved t-shirt, and a grey cashmere sweater from J Crew. Yeah, I did have to mention it was cashmere. I'm spoiled.
8. Do you “label” yourself? not really. I'm kind of an enigma. My mom, however, labeled my two sisters and I a couple years ago. Kristin is the driven/responsible one, Erin is the pretty one, I am the funny one. Thanks, mom.
9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing? Uggs--please still be my friend? They are just so comfortable.
10. Bright or Dark Room? Dark--giddy up!
11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you? No one I know. I just found it on some random blog and decided I was bored and needed some time to kill before I go to Bloomingdales.
12. What does your watch look like? It's a silver Movado with a black face. And also really hard to tell time on when I am drunk since it doesn't have any time marks on it.
13. What were you doing at midnight last night? sleeping
14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say? from Christina, "hey! when do u get back? Wana go 4 drinks this week like thurs? Tom loved u hell b with me this week" She is a texting superstar.
15. Where is your nearest 7-11? only one in Manhattan-23rd st I think?
16. What's a word that you say a lot? "dude"
17. Who told you he/she loved you last? my dad :)
18. Last furry thing you touched? my vagina. Just kidding. It's not furry. Probably Phil, my sister's dog.
19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days? none! crack is wack kids!
20. How many rolls of film do you need developed? last time I checked, this is 2006. I have a digital camera, so none.
21. Favorite age you have been so far? 21--senior year of college. 26 has been really good to me as well.
22. Your worst enemy? hangovers.
23. What is your current desktop picture? a picture supplied by my place of employment. They don't let us change it. Fascists!
24. What was the last thing you said to someone? To Ria, "when are we going to Bloomingdales?"
25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be? definitely fly--then I would fly and steal a million bucks.
26. Do you like someone? wouldn't you like to know?
27. The last song you listened to? God Only Knows--the Beach Boys
28. What time of day were you born? 4:20 am. Serious!
29. What’s your favorite number? 7--the day I was born
30. Where did you live in 1987? Edina, MN
31. Are you jealous of anyone? of course, but more superficial things. I'm pretty happy with my life.
32. Is anyone jealous of you? I'm not sure, but they really need not be. I'm not that cool.
33. Where were you when 9/11 happened? I was still in college (senior year) and slept through it since I didn't have class until 11 am. I woke up around 9:30 (10:30 am eastern) and by then the towers had fallen. I remember signing on AOL and seeing the picture of dust from the Twin Towers and being thoroughly confused.
34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money? kick them. Right in the babymakers
35. Do you consider yourself kind? I make fun of everyone, but all in good fun.
36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be? I always wanted a claddagh, but I would never get a tattoo. I don't have anything in my life that important that I would need to be reminded of it everyday til I die.
37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be? The language of love
38. Would you move for the person you loved? I kind of already did, but I would do it again.
39. Are you touchy feely? sometimes...but I hate PDA. Although I have been known to dry-hump on a dance floor a few times.
40. What’s your life motto? to quote the Rolling Stones, "you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you might find you get what you need"
41. Name three things that you have on you at all times? keys to my apt, my watch, a hair tie.
42. What’s your favorite town/city? Cooperstown, NY. If you don't know why, you suck and need to go there immediately.
43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash? sex. Just kidding. I ordered Umi sushi last night.
44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it? um, I don't know. I'm addicted to technology.
45. Can you change the oil on a car? actually yes. And can change a tire too (but only if I had too)
46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her? I've only had one, sadly, I know nothing about what he is up to now.
47. How far back do you know about your ancestry? I know my paternal grandfather was right off the boat from Italy, and my maternal grandfather was a butler in NYC
48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy? I don't dress fancy.
49. Does anything hurt on your body right now? nope
50. Have you been burned by love? not really. the burning sensation went away when the doc gave me a cream.

Looks like I'm going to get a White Christmas after all

So I didn't think I was going to post anything until I got back from Minnesota, but here I am, furiously typing away. I have come to fully accept my addiction to blogging, and I'm putting it out there that I may need an Intervention eventually. Although it probably won't be that exciting filming me typing on my laptop vs. filming someone running around their hole in the wall "apartment" throwing televisions all wacked out on crystal meth.

I doubt anyone really cares that my flight was delayed an hour yesterday, but I ended up sitting next to one of the hottest men alive only to find I was staring directly at his wedding ring. I also don't suppose you care that Minneapolis had bad weather yesterday, causing all flights to be backed up and the baggage claim area to resemble a zoo. I don't suppose you care that my sister had to rush out of town yesterday because her husband's cousin got in a near fatal car wreck on her way to buy Christmas presents*. I don't suppose you care that this caused me from going to sleep on my sister's very comfortable guest bed to my parents very uncomfortable leather couch where it was so hot in their apartment I was sticking to the leather all night. I don't suppose that you care that I was so uncomfortable that my whole entire arm fell asleep last night, and I woke up at 3 am bashing it against the table thinking "oh my god! I have multiple-sclerosis!" in an attempt to restore blood flow. I don't suppose you care that I'm so old now I wake up before my parents. I don't suppose you care that I'm sitting here on my mom's laptop next to their Christmas tree staring out the window, absolutely excited that there is snow on the ground. No, I don't suppose you do.

I got a really good post coming up, but it's questionable in nature, and would rather not do it on anyone's computer but mine (although I doubt anyone will read it since everyone is on "winter vacation). Admit it, you're excited!

* Just so you don't think I am completely heartless, I really don't mind sleeping on my parents' couch so my sister could leave. I'm going to play mommy today and go pick up her kids from someone elses's house and bake cookies. I'm kind of scared. In no way should anyone ever rely on me for baking of any sort. But the good news is, there is an 85% chance I will screw something up and get a sweet blog post out of the whole mess.

On a very serious note, my brother-in-laws cousin, who is 21,was driving with her father on her way to get Christmas presents in Iowa (my brother-in-law and his whole family is from Iowa) when they ran a stop sign. They crashed directly into a semi-truck. In an attempt to prevent the car from hitting the truck's gas tank, the driver of the semi sped up causing the car to hit the truck's wheel. I can only imagine how "lucky" they are that they didn't actually going up under the truck. The car did actually end up catching on fire due to the fact my brother-in-law's uncle was carrying diesel gasoline in his car (which for the obvious reasons is very illegal unless you carry it in the back of a truck). The uncle was not wearing his seatbelt, was ejected from the car, but is relatively ok. And by "ok" I mean he is going to live. The cousin, on the other hand, is not doing well at all. She was wearing her seatbelt, but at the moment of contact ended up hitting her head on the car which caused some trauma to her brain. She immediately went unconscious. Since the car was now on fire, and the uncle was on the pavement somewhere, the trucker had to pull her out before she burned alive. She is now in a coma with brain edema, and I heard she more than likely will never wake up. She is 21. Puts everything in a little perspective, you know? So everyone go tell their family they love them. And if you don't have family, go tell yourself you love you because you just never know when your last day on earth will be. This teaches you not to sweat the small stuff.

Ticket for one, please

So it's that time of year again. I'm flying back to the 'sota today on a 6pm flight. With me I carry an extra large suitcase that is carrying my dirty laundry (this could be a record for longest distance to carry laundry, but we all know how much I hate it), along with room for presents. You didn't think I just got a computer did you? Hopefully Santa got my wish for a dick in a box as well.

So the fam and I are doing the normal Christmas activities of baking cookies, opening presents, sharing yule tide greetings, and my personal favorite, stabbing each other until we have more holes in us than Nicole Brown-Simpson. OK, sorry about that one.

I'm flying back on Christmas Day--yeah that's right. Apparently Northwest Airlines heard this was my first Christmas alone, and decided to hike up the price of airline tickets on December 26th forcing me to choose between donating my eggs for cash or actually paying for a plane ticket on Christmas. Naturally, I chose to donate my eggs AND fly out on Christmas. Score!

But really, it ain't no thang. One of my sisters is going to be spending all of Christmas Day with her husband and his family in Iowa, and my parents and other sister/brother-in-law/niece/nephew are flying to my parent's other house in Tampa. Yeah I know, Florida is warm, but given my 4 day limit of tolerance for some of my family, I chose to fly back to New York on Christmas.

Then comes my week of loneliness. For some reason, all of my friends here in the city are from different states outside the tri-state area--well, all except one, but she just got a boyfriend so it's like she doesn't exist now anyways. Typical girl. So that means they will all be out of town next week, and I will be forced to ponder my thoughts alone. That's kind of scary. I don't have a lot of thoughts. But you know what that means for you? Lots and lots of blogging. So keep on reading, thanks for stopping by, and stay classy.

Seacrest, out!

Take out the papers and the trash

Dear Roommate,
You know I love you. The garbage is still open, and there are also new bags underneath our kitchen sink. So what on earth made you think this was a good idea. I mean, really. What am I going to do with you?

Sigh.

XOXO,
Megan

Did you know talking dogs exist?

Well they do. You see, my arch nemesis friend Andy of Well, At Least I Think I'm Funny (check out his new, fancy style American blog here) fame has a little side job that you may not be aware of. Back in the day, Andy used to be roommates with this guy. Apparently living together wasn't homo-erotic enough for the two of them, so they decided to solidify their union by getting a dog. They named him Franklin. And Franklin talks! Really! Andy thinks Franklin is the greatest dog that ever lived. I'm not so sure, although it is pretty cool that he eats whole bottles of vegetable oil as a light snack.

Andy missed Franklin so much when he moved here to New York that he decided to create a podcast of the two of them (chill out people, podcasts are free on iTunes). You know, talking about world affairs, pepperoni, being a dog, Star Wars...you know, just shooting the shit. Now Andy is not funny, despite what his blog is titled. But Franklin? Oh so funny. So please, ladies and gentlemen, please click on the link below and enjoy the ride. And what a sweet ride it is.

Franklin Talk

and don't forget to check out Franklin Talks' of yore here!

and don't forget to ask him questions for next time! Really hard ones. Cause Franklin is smart. Real smart.

All I want for Christmas...

I've been rather disappointed that I have not received any Christmas gifts yet from anyone that reads my blog. There are a good 10 or 15 of you out there that actually know me, so to you I am especially disappointed. There are also -1 of you that have developed a huge internet crush on me. Why -1? Well, I kinda had to pay that person to send me provocative emails professing their un-dying love, so I'm not sure that counts. Either way, GET ME SOME PRESENTS BITCHES! Here is what I want.

During college I amassed a nice little collection of VHS tapes that my roommates (all 6 of them!) and I used to watch for our viewing pleasure. Probably 85% of these tapes were bought at our college bookstore cleverly disguised as "book" purchases (thank you Iowa Book and Supply for not having itemized bills!)
The other 15% of my VHS tape collection not bought with my college id most likely consists of all of those Disney movies bought as Christmas presents when I was 18 12. I have this thing where I can't double up with VHS tapes with my DVD collection. I also never bothered to hook up my VHS player on my tv when I moved to my new apartment.The fact that I do not have Boogie Nights on DVD when I name my blog after that movie is absolutely absurd, and I deserve a lashing because of it. Other movies that I don't have on DVD that contribute to my well deserved flogging:

• Good Will Hunting - Probably one of my top 5 favorite movies of all time. It features pre-Armageddon Ben Affleck when he didn't have blindingly white teeth (I'm so on team Damon, can't you tell?). I can't even tell you how much my friends and I used to quote, "Chuckkkk....I had a double buuuuuurrrrrggggaaaa". Ask Megan and Presto to act out the "it's not your fault" dialogue as well. They actually taped it too. Nerds Coolest friends ever!
• Braveheart - Anti-semetic tirades aside, Mel Gibson really directed the shit out of this movie. One Friday, my friend Kate and I were bored and decided to create the Braveheart drinking game. What's that you ask? Oh, well it's a little game where you drink to every death. By the time the battle scenes came on, I think we just ended up shotgunning beers. I do remember Megan coming home from class and yelling, "what the fuck? you guys are drunk? It's 1 pm!"
• The Big Lebowski - another top 5 favorite of mine. I hang my head in shame about this one, but it's still like $25 bucks at Best Buy. Would all of you stoners quit buying it so the price goes down? Come on!
  
• Almost Famous - This movie includes one of my favorite scenes of all time in any movie. Hold me closer, Tony Danza!
  
• Jurassic Park - never have I been more scared in a movie theater than watching this movie. I will beat anyone up who thinks this movie sucks. Steven Spielberg is a genius.
• Kingpin - I don't think I need an explanation with this one.

Now there are some tapes in my collection you may question:Dude, David Bowie, Jennifer Connelly pre-breast reduction, a missing baby, a Labyrinth, and talking doorknobs? Where do I sign up?

It reads: WCW Snow Brawl. I'm not exactly sure what this is, or how it arrived in my possession, but it sounds cool. So I'm asking for it on DVD too.
I'm not sure how this is in my collection. It must have fallen in one of my boxes when I was moving. I think it's my mother's. Yes, definitely...my...mother's............... OK I lied. It's mine. How can you not cry at this movie, you heartless bastard! They were best friends! And then she went ahead and got viral cardio-myopothy! I'm not even sure what that means! But it sounds horrible! And she was the wind beneath her wings! And it's CC Bloom for Christ's sake! CC mother-trucking Bloom!
Oh yeah, and if you trying to figure out what DVD's I actually own, your eyes are not deceiving you. I do own Titanic. The special effects are amazing in the movie. Yes, definitely...the....special effects...OK fine! Jack loved Rose! He saved her from marrying that big jerk! And then the ship hit the iceberg! And then I hope everytime I watch it that Jack actually lives! But he doesn't! Rose has to chip him off the piece of wood he is frozen to on the water! And then he sinks! But doesn't ice float? But then she lives! And throws that big diamond in the water! That's the biggest travesty of all!

So that's what I want for Christmas. Well, that and some pants. I could really use new pants.

University of Iowa ranked the 12th best school in th country!

No not by US News World and Reports. That would be a cold day in hell. This was the ranking created by College Humor and used such important criteria as the amount of free condoms passed out by the health center and % of girls in relationship. Really a better measure would be bars per capita (Iowa is #1--and my source is a drunk frat guy so it must be true) and number of bars next to book stores. Does YOUR school have a bar next to your bookstore? Doubtful! But Iowa does!. Notice that most of the schools at the top are Big 10 schools? I'm sorry ACC and Big 12, you guys suck. I think since most everyone who reads my site went to a Big 10 school, I'm about to offend A LOT OF PEOPLE.

• I'm really tired of seeing Wisconsin on these kind of lists (Sorry Presto and Seif). I mean really, Wisconsin hasn't been fun since the early 90's since my sisters were there. Bascom Hill is just too fucking annoying to walk up and down all day. There is a reason I chose Iowa over Wisconsin you know.


• MSU #1?? You can't even get into bars there if you are under 21! Plus their ranch for their Pokey Sticks tastes weird.


• Indiana???? INDIANA?!?!!?!?!?


• Dude, people still go to Purdue?


• OK why is Minnesota on this list? I don't know anyone who actually had a good time at this school.


• Michigan-a bunch of pussies. Try getting a Gumby's and then maybe we will talk.


• Penn State-I hate Penn State only cause they were the last school to join the Big 10--making it not the Big 10 anymore, but the Big 11. Only now we still call it The Big 10. Which is kind of confusing. Way to ruin the fun for everyone, Penn State. What the fuck is a Nittany Lion anyways? It's not even a real lion!


• I like that Illinois is so far down. I mean come on. La Bamba for the last time does not replace Panchie's in terms of tastiness. Herbster and Sarah, that's just poor!


• OSU is 49. This makes me the most happy. Fuck your damn football team. OH yes, does it make you feel better your students were made a national laughing stock on the Daily Show? Nice scrabble club, d-bags.

So that's it. Iowa is the best. That's right, bitches! I only speak in superlatives when I talk about Iowa mainly cause I went there, and everthing I do is the best. Alright, let the hate comments commence!

Nothing says Merry Christmas like getting completely fucked up

Every so often, I think, "Megan, there isn't possibly anymore you could learn.". Then a night like Friday comes along, when I realize that I'm on my 12th beer of the night, that I actually know very little. Here is what I learned:

This is my friends and my new favorite drinking game. Well, if you can even call it a game. More like a bunch of drunk idiots attempting to count past 3. You see, everyone starts out putting there finger on the center cup. Then we each take turns counting "1...2....3...." and then right on the count of three, everyone either keeps their finger on or off the cup. If the person counting guesses the correct number of people whose fingers still remain on the cup, then they are out. The last person standing has to drink what's on the cup--which isn't necessarily a good thing. Who knows where my friends' fingers have been--if you know what I mean.

I also have been known to participate in the weird sexual labels game. You know what I'm talking about, right? Like the ever popular "Donkey Punch" or "the Stranger". Well, in college I knew them all and could usually spew off about 15 of them on command. It seems I am a little out of practice, as I only knew one ("the Hoover") that no one else knew. Let's review, shall we?

• The Hoover - this is when a guy is fucking a girl up the ass, and he knocks her hands out from underneath her and pushes her along the floor with his pelvis. Remind you a vacuum cleaner, no? Not J. Edgar Hoover. I am pretty sure that would involve cross dressing of some sort.
  
• The Eiffel Tower - involves "finger cuffing" (ie London Bridge, Wobbly H) the girl between two guys. The guys then "high 5" each other resulting in a structure similar to that of the Eiffel Tower.
• The Dolphin - That's when the guy sticks it to her in her 2-hole without permission, and she turns around, shaking her head or hand and screams, "uh huh, uh huh, uh huh" much similar to the sound a dolphin makes.
• The Rotisserie Pig - again, the guys are in "finger cuffing" position. Except this time they both, simultaneously turn the girl around to emulate a pig slow roasting over a flame.
  
• The JFK - my personal favorite. This is when a guy is fucking a chick, pulls out, cums into his hand, then takes his jizz and throws it sideways at the girl's face to simulate a "second shooter". AWESOME.

So that's what I learned. There are pictures on Flickr if you want to see me frame by frame get progressively more and more drunk and attempt to do "the Sprinkler" (fyi, I accidentally uploaded them backwards--so once you see the Santa hat, that's when I am pretty sure I had more alcohol in my system than actual water). Why I put pictures like this of myself on the internet, I do not know.

Give me my gift back!

This one I am going to keep anonymous since it involves friends of friends of mine. And it is also really none of my business. But that won’t stop me from creating a post about this girl’s situation, now does it? Of course not!

So this friend of a friend got married in October. She was dating her now husband for close to 8 years I believe. That’s pretty impressive. Not many had me beat, but she had a good 1-2 years longer with her boyfriend. Assuming my calculations are correct, that would mean they met when they were 18 and probably went to college together (I’ve met this girl and her husband twice so I know very little about this girl.)

Now I can only imagine from seeing pictures from the wedding in October from my friend that it was very expensive. I know the bachelorette party alone cost my friend close to a paycheck, so I am assuming since the wedding was in Westchester and in at an absolutely gorgeous reception area, the think costs at least $100K.

So needless to say, I was a little surprised when my friend emailed me to tell me that her friend is probably getting divorced. Yeah, divorced. After 2 months. What would cause a couple of 8 years to realize that actually hated each other and divorce after 2 months? Well, apparently the dude felt forced into marriage and started cheating on her. After they got married. Oh shit.

Now I won’t get into details around the alleged affair, because basically I know nothing about it and again it is none of my business, but can we please discuss why this fuckhead didn’t tell his wife about his concerns before they got married? Am I right and saying this torrid affair was his passive aggressive way of breaking up with his wife? I mean, get some balls man. Tell the girl you want out rather than having her friends and family pay for a wedding, bachelorette party and gifts before you go throwing your dick into someone.

I’m not completely blaming the guy here. When people cheat, I don’t necessarily think 100% of the blame falls on the shoulders of the cheater. Clearly something was inherently wrong with the relationship to begin with for someone to betray someone else like that. After 8 years, I don’t think there are many who could stick it out with the person you have been with since you were 18. I’ve mentioned on this blog before that I don’t think anyone should marry his or her college boyfriends/girlfriends. Most people do it because it’s “the next step”, but people change. Sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad, but we always end up wanting different things by the time we are in our late 20s. Really, I do not know one person who is successfully still with the person they were with in college. I mean, when I was 19 I wanted a boyfriend with killer beirut skills. Now that I’m 26, well, I still want a boyfriend with killer beirut skills. Unfortunately for my ex, he wasn’t so much into all day drinking tournaments when he got into his mid-20s. (but DAMN was he good! Sigh. On a side note, if you are a single guy out there with killer beirut skills, I am now taking applications. Inquire within.) I never cheated on my ex, but I guarantee I would have in the long run if I didn’t end it when I did. Sometimes you just gotta strap one on, and suck it up. My very wise friend once told me, “it’s better to be 26 and single than 40 and divorced”. True dat!


But I digress. Anyways, there really isn’t a point to this post. I just was shocked at the whole situation. I do remember seeing this couple at a party recently and thinking, “Wow, they look really happy together. I kind of miss having someone.” Something tells me this girl would pay a pretty penny to trade places with me. Things aren’t always what they seem, kiddos.

The UES: New York's toilet. Literally.

I asked my friend Chris to blog about an experience he had recently on the UES while walking his friend's dog. If you haven't put two and two together, Chris is married to Ria. I work two cubes down from Ria. So when Chris called her with this story immediately after it happened, I heard her horrified screams pretty easily. I ran over to ask her what happened and she told me this story. And then I vomited. Right there. At her desk. This story is not for the faint of heart, but it must be told as a warning to those of you who live on the UES. You might want to move. Now.

So this is my first guest appearance on Megan's Blog.......and I've been given a most disgusting assignment..........I'm to describe to you the most disgusting thing I've ever witnessed in NYC since I moved in over 9 years ago!!

As I walked north on 2nd Ave accompanied by my friends' incredibly small dog I see two tattered dressed gentleman conversing rather vigorously on the corner of 84th Street and 2nd Ave.

They have not yet fully registered on my radar as one of them walks briskly towards me but at the same time angling towards the storefronts on my right. I see that he is one of our city's unfortunate homeless. I didn't know what bug was up his ass but I was about to find out............literally. As he approached the storefront of a fine italian eatery, this extremely obese dirty guy pulled his pants around his ankles, bent at the hips, and shot out pure diarrhea from his ultimate nether region........I was in shock, bordering on teetering over. As I regained my senses I was able to determine that it was still going on!! It kept coming!! It was enough to drown my small companion!!!

As I lightly jogged around the corner, pulling the little dog behind, his friend was in complete hysterics!! It must have been some sort of dare! Well it sent me into gag mode!! As I quelled the urge to lose my latest meal I realized I didn't have my cell phone!! I left it behind. As I composed my poop filled mind and headed back I saw the man lingering around his fecal matter!! I refused to go back in that direction. I walk around an entire city block to avoid Poop Man.

I'll never look at toilet paper in the same way again.

So did you throw up? Just a little? I mean, someone peeing in the street I can imagine, but this guy had full blown diarrhea right there on the subway grate! And I can't believe I am letting the "p" word on my blog. Let the crazy googling commence!

And I'm spent.

My family was in town last weekend. By family, I mean my high maintenence mother, somewhat ignorant sister (we'll call her sister #1), my spoiled niece (niece #1), and my other sister (sister #2) and my other niece (niece #2). Because of my illness, I thought it would be best to refrain from boozing myself into a blackout so I cancelled all of my plans for Friday and Saturday.

My mother is from New York. She lived in this wonderful city for a good 20 years before she married my dad (who is also from NY) and moved away. She even still has her Brooklyn accent. As I mentioned before, my mother is high maintenence. But, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and figured she would remember what Manhattan is like during this time of year. For those of you who have not experienced 5th Avenue 2 weeks before Christmas, take a look at this piture below.

I took this on the corner of 59th and 5th at 4pm on Saturday. I'm breaking out in hives just looking at this. This picture was taken at my last attempt to retain my sanity from what could be the most horrific weekend I have ever spent in this city. You probably think I am over-reacting. I am not. I assure you anyone who lives in NY and reads this is about to get chills up and down their spine.

So Thursday night I went to my friend's cocktail party. I was getting good and toasted on cans of Bud Light (classy lady, I know) when my sister (sister #2) called me at 10:30 to say she wanted me to meet them at the hotel. 10:30?!?!?! on a Thursday?!?! They had 5 year olds with them. I figured they would be asleep by like 5pm or something. I ask my sister where her hotel is. She replies, "47th and 7th" dum Dum DUM. For those of you who don't know, this is in the heart of Times Square, or as I so lovingly refer to it as THE VORTEX OF HELL. It's always packed with tourists in fanny packs and sensible walking shoes staring. Doesn't matter where, just staring. They always manage to walk about 8 people deep and link arms so no one can get through.

So I leave the party like a good daughter, sister, aunt and go hang out with the women of my family until about 12:30. I go home, sleep, go to work, go to the doctor, and then expect to meet up with all of them Friday afternoon. They call me around 3pm. "We're at the American Girl Store". Oh sweet Jesus. There is nothing I hate more than bratty kids, it's bratty kids in the American Girl store. Last year I went during the MTA strike, and I vowed never to go again. I mean, there were children screaming. Mother's pulling other mother's hair. Grandmother's fighting to the death over the last "Samantha holiday dress". And they want me, sick with strep throat, to go there again? Oh hell no. Luckily, they left before I got there, so I was saved that agony.

Dinnertime came. I suggested one of my favorite restaurants in the city called Blue Smoke. I should have known that fine NYC dining was beneath my mother as she suggested that we "just go to a place in Times Square". Really, someone put me out of my misery. I had to twist her arm not to go into the Hard Rock Cafe, and settled on the Brooklyn Diner--a place known for really good hamburgers. So what do my crazy mother and sister order? CHICKEN PARMESAN.

The next day my mother wasn't feeling too well, so my sisters and I head outside. I wanted to go ice skating in Central Park in the morning. My sister (sister #1) suggests a double decker bus ride. OK, right about now it's like 25 degrees out. "Don't worry," she says, "we'll just sit on the bottom". We approach a guy selling tickets who I think is drunk. At 9am. He says it will be $40 to buy a ticket. OK there are 3 adults, 2 kids. Not that bad, right? Um, no. He meant $40 PER PERSON. I hope my sisters realize that this $40 is coming directly out of their Christmas presents.

So we go and get breakfast, and after an incident with my niece (niece #2) screaming that she wants waffles (even though there is nowhere for her to eat waffles), we go towards where the bus picks us up. I notice the line is probably a block long. I figure everyone wants to sit up top, despite it only being about 25 degrees out as most tourists are dumb. Apparently I am the dumb one since the line was for the bottom. We decide not to wait in the horrendous line and go sit up top. And that's the last thing I remember.

Sitting on top of that bus could be the coldest I have ever been in my life. I'm from Minnesota. I know what fucking cold it. But the people who always tell me, "you're from MN you can handle it." don't know what it is like sitting on top of a bus convertible in 25 degree weather. My snot was freezing INSIDE my nose I think. Also, if anyone is tempted to take this in the future, I'm going to let you in on a little secret I did not know. It actually is a real bus, as in it makes stops every two minutes. So not only am I freezing, but now we are making stops every 2 blocks on 34th st. Our tour guide just ran out of stuff to say at one point and pointed to a blowup snowman in front of a cell phone store and just said, "oh you guys are lucky, that snow man blew away yesterday and no one got to see it!" Where is my gun?

I used my niece (niece # 1 and #2) as a human blanket (I'm a good aunt, I know) all the way down to the West Village and that's when I couldn't take it anymore. I made everyone get off and we went to go eat pizza at Bleeker St. Pizza. Bleeker St. Pizza is arguably some of the best pizza in all of Manhattan, if not the world. So that's why it killed me when sister #1 said "I don't know. I kind of like Domino's". Riiiight.

So then we meet up with my mother. It's like 2:30 pm now and the only thing she says she wants to do is go shopping. Originally she wanted to go to Soho which is vortex of hell #2, but she was really adamant about going to Tiffany's which is on 5th Avenue so we headed up town. Yeah, that's right. She wanted to go to Tiffany's. Now not to sound ungrateful, but my mother has just discovered Tiffany's and continues to buy me jewelry from there that my friends had back in 1999. I'm a fashion icon. I don't do anything from 1999. As we approach the corner of 57th and 5th, I see a line. But not just any line. This was the longest line in all the land.

Know why that guy is smiling? Cause he is LEAVING, that's why. So we all get into line, and people start pushing. I know people really want their over-priced, sterling silver, charm bracelets with matching necklace, but let's not have anyone get injured here, cool? The last thing I need is to lose an arm through the revolving door and have to tell people where and how I lost it. We reach the silver floor (the only floor tourists can afford), and sit on the floor since there are no chairs while my mom and sister#1 shop. Security comes over and ushers me off the floor. Did I miss something? There are people around 400 pounds with french fry grease walking around me, and they are scared me sitting on the floor is going to class the place down? Whatever. My mom finally finishes after an hour, and shows me that she bought my nieces each a necklace, and one of them matching earrings because she wants to get her ear pierced one day. That's about $400 my mom spent on a 5 year old. $400!!! And it's not even a power wheel!

The irony is that the earrings my mom bought for my niece got lost in the hotel room the next morning. I actually found them, and debated keeping them for a second since there is no way I think any 5 year old should have any jewelry from Tiffany's, but alas, I turned them in.

Chalk this one up to more years of oppression against women

So the other day's post got me thinking. I've been on birth control for a really long time. Close to 7 years to be exact. My ex-boyfriend and I had a rule. Actually it was more a rule that he imposed on our relationship: I'm in charge of birth control, he is in charge of condoms. Well, we only used condoms for the first 6 months of our relationship and when I was on antibiotics (antibiotics decrease effectiveness of the pill--and no, I wasn't on antibiotics for the clap dumbasses. I get strep throat like every other week). My birth control of choice was one of the more expensive on the market, so my co-pay on average over the years was lets say around $20. For all you non-mathletes like myself, that's $240 a year. Over 7 years that's $1680! $1680!!!! I don't even know how much condoms cost, but I guarantee the most he ever spent was like $150 maybe? And I even remember buying a super size box when he didn't have his credit card on him! You know what I could buy for $1680?

• A Marc Jacobs Bag and Dior wallet.
• 112 Rick Astley cds
• 1/15th of Russian mail order bride
• 336 Coors Light's
• 10 pairs of over-priced Joe's jeans (my favorite)
• 140 games of the Legend of Zelda for NES (the ONLY Nintendo in my book)
• 280 Chipotle burritos
• A plasma tv (and also all the crap you have to buy with it to actually use it)

Look, I can go on, but you get the idea. So gentlemen, next time you are complaining about "always paying for dinnner", please do yourself a favor and thank your woman. She is denying herself a Marc Jacobs handbag for Christ's sake so YOU don't get her knocked up.

**Note--this is NOT my XMas list. I mean, come on, you really think I would want 1/15th a mail order bride? I mean, I need atleast 1/10th of one to have a good time. But the Marc Jacobs bag WOULD be nice if anyone is looking to buy me a ridiculously expensive bag this holiday season.

The bad news is I have strep throat for the gazillionth time this year. I was in a panic this morning, because my beloved primary care physician doesn't take my insurance either. Ass. Anyways, I finally got a hold of an ears, nose and throat specialist* who said would take out my tonsils if I wanted. I'm going to try and go on stronger antibiotics this time, but if the disease comes back once more, I'm taking the suckers out. So what does that mean? I'm going to be begging all of you to bring me McDonald's milkshakes and watch This is Spinal Tap with me.

*Just a side note--I was in a panic this morning trying to find a new doctor so I called, emailed, texted everyone I knew for their doctor. If I didn't get a prescription today, my tonsils would be bloody with infection by tomorrow--no joke. Anyways, I had one person give me the number of a gastrointestinal specialist, and another give me the number of a podiatrist, who may I remind you is not even a real doctor. And most of the regular doctors are not taking new patients. Thanks for nothing "friends"! So if anyone has the name and number of a normal doctor who is taking new patients, can you email it to me?

Let's go shoot some birds. I'm psyched.

OK people. Go ahead and rank 'em!

My ranking goes in this order. I know, everyone loves Wedding Crashers, and so do I. My roommate's boyfriend and I sit on the couch and watch it repreatedly while ignoring her most weekends. But, the ending is kind of lame. I have been known to have entire drunk text conversations with Megan entirely with Anchorman quotes, and I probably quote it more than the other two combined. And it's true that Dorothy Mantooth is a saint. However, one of my favorite things to do is shout, "EARMUFFS!" at really innapropriate times. Like baptisms. And large company meetings where our CEO is speaking, so Old School is #2. What are your rankings? WARNING: your answers could seriously affect your cool status with me. SO choose wisely. Except for Andy, I already know what his answer will be, and it sucks.

Another p*ssy I had to tame!

I have a problem. No, not THAT kind of problem. Pervert. You see, last week I went to the doctor to make sure my vagina had not grown cobwebs, and that my eggs have not decided to commit suicide over the hopelessness of it all.

I started my job in April, but I have been on COBRA for the past 6 months from my previous employer. November was my first month on my new employer's insurance. So I arrive at the doctor's office, I alert the receptionist that my insurance has changed. I give her my new card, she smiles. Everything is great. I meet with my doctor, reach 3rd base, and then we go our separate ways (typical guy). Anyways, I go to make my co-payment and the nurse flatly says "Your total comes to $275". Um, what? Apparently my OB-GYN does not take my new insurance, but the dumbass secretary (yeah, I'm going to use the un-PC term cause I'm pissed) doesn't think to tell me I might want to know that my doctor doesn't take my new insurance. Now I have to pay the 70% out of network fee which turns out to be an extra $50 I didn't have to spend if I had the correct insurance.

The bigger problem I now face is I have to find a new doctor. If there are small children in the room, best to shield their eyes and cover their ears cause what I am about to tell you is graphic in nature.

I have had more OB-GYN doctors than anyone I have ever known. I went to my first vag doctor when I was 19, despite losing my v-card the previous year, because I started dating my now recently ex-boyfriend (it's a little scary to read that I was 19 when I started dating him. Yikes). Anyways, I needed to get on the pill, yo! Condoms are overrated. For some reason, it never occurred to me to go to Planned Parenthood to get a prescription. That meant I had to tell my mom about my wish so it didn't randomly appear on my parent's insurance that I was seeing the va-jay-jay doctor. This is basically an admission that I was porking my boyfriend, and that is a little unsettling to a woman who wanted to be a nun when she grew up and didn't know what the word "fuck" meant when she saw it on an NYC subway when she was 18. To avoid any pangs of guilt, I told her that I was having bad cramps, and I heard the pill helps ease the pain. My mother then, being the big mouth that she is, decides to announce to the rest of my family about the "cramping" problems I was having during dinner--to which my sister responds with, "don't they prescribe Nuprin for that?". Thanks sis, for getting my back and all.

Now my mother, again being the lovely woman that she is, does not make me an appointment at a normal OB-GYN. She sends me to our family practitioner. So basically the doctor that I have been seeing since I was 7 was now going to see my lady parts. Luckily, our doctor was on vacation while I was home for the holidays, and I got stuck with the physicians' assistant that was new and have never seen before. A physicians' assistant, if you are unaware, can practice medicine under a real doctor's supervision. Whatever, just give me my sex pills, bitch!

She walks in and looks pleasant enough. I tell her this is my first time, and she comforts me that it will be over before I know it. She instructs me to put my feet in the metal things at the foot of the doctor's bed that I had been using as pretend gear shifts for my race car all these years. Then she gets started. What comes next could be one of the top 5 most painful experiences of my life. For all my male readers, the doctor then inserts what I can only explain as a medieval torture device into my vagina.

This contraption (called a speculum) expands a woman's cervix so they can get a proper sample to test for any abnormality. You see how complicated it looks to use right? Kind of like a vice grip? Well, my "I am a doctor without a degree" doctor takes hers out and gets to business. Then digs it around. Then tries to open it unsuccessfully. Then digs around some more. Then attempts to open it again. Then pulls it out. Repeat this literally about 10 times over 10 minutes and you get where I am coming from. She then looks up at me and says, "I'm going to have to get the bigger speculum. Your vagina is long. I can't find your cervix". Apparently the look of horror on my face made her think to add, "Oh don't worry. That's not a bad thing. You'll have an easy child birth! " What the fuck? Add another 10 minutes to her digging around with the speculum made for the "longer" girls, and she finally gets her sample. I immediately call my boyfriend once it is all over looking for comfort about being painfully probed for 20 minutes, and the only thing he can respond through his laughter is "YOU HAVE A BIG COOT COOT!!!". Thanks, boyfriend.

A year later after that mentally (and probably physically) scarring experience, I decided to get my prescription refilled at school with a real OB-GYN. Needless to say, I was thoroughly impressed that she took two minutes to find my cervix without the extra large speculum. I think all is great with my new doctor until I receive a notice in the mail that my culture came back with some abnormalities (ie pre-cancerous cells). So I have to go back. This time, my sister steps in and recommends the office she has been going to. Only one problem, all the doctors are male. I decide to suck it up and go. The doctor I end up seeing could be one of the coolest guys I have ever met. He wore cowboy boots and had gorgeous wavy black hair. My own McDreamy. Although it was a little weird having him talk to me about Organic Chemistry while giving me a breast exam. He said I had no abnormalities, and the test was wrong. This doctor became my doctor for the next 2 years.

Then I moved to NYC. I had no one to recommend a new doctor for me, so I called my insurance hotline and had them recommend a female doctor within a couple blocks of my apartment. I should have known better from my past experience with female doctors. I walk in, and end up waiting for a good hour and a half after my appointment to see this chick. I then get yelled at by her when I mention I came over my lunch break and now I am late for work. Jesus lady, what kind of circus are you running here? Last time I checked, I'm paying you for a service, and I at least would expect an apology since I'm about to get donkey punched by my boss.

I call my insurance company again the next year looking for a new doctor. I go to this other female doctor near my apartment. She only has me waiting for 45 minutes. She asks me if I want to get tested for STD's, and I say no. I've had a boyfriend for 5 years who is in love with me. I don't need them. 3 days after I see her, I get a call from a nurse practitioner. "Megan, your test results for any sexually transmitted diseases have come back. You're negative for chlamydia and HPV. Our gonorrhea test has come back inconclusive." UM WHAT!?1??!?!!?!?!?#?@?#?!#?!@$?!#$?!#?%$!#?%?!# OK, first off, I told them I didn't want the tests because they cost extra money, and I don't need them cause I had a loving, caring boyfriend of 5 years. WHO IS APPARENTLY CHEATING ON ME! THAT FUCKHEAD! I immediately call boyfriend, while I am at work, mind you.

Me: "WHAT THE FUCK YOU GAVE ME GONORRHEA"
Him: "What the hell are you talking about?"
Me: "My test results came back inconclusive for the clap. You gave me the clap! I haven't been with anyone else so it must have been you. Who the fuck is she?"
Him: "Megan, the tests came back inconclusive. I can't believe you think I would cheat on you. Call me when you are reasonable and not at work." CLICK.

So I go back to the doctor. Get re-tested for tests I didn't want in the first place, and pay an extra $75 only to get back that I tested negative for gonorrhea. And now I am in trouble with boyfriend for accusing him of giving me the clap. Rightfully so, I would say. My jaw was sore for a good 3 weeks from all the blowjobs I had to give to make up for my accusations.

After that fiasco, I asked my regular primary care physician, who I love, to recommend someone. He recommended my current OB-GYN who I have had no problems with (despite the fact his office is in Canada. Or the UES. Whatever). Yeah, the one who no longer takes my insurance. So now I have to find ANOTHER doctor. SIGH SIGH SIGH.

Nerd alert!

I'm a huge nerd. On the outside, I look like a foxy 26 year old girl with a love of Anthropologie and designer purses. On the inside beats the heart of a 12 year old boy who plays Dungeons and Dragons in his basement and has a model Millenium Falcon built from from spare parts. My favorite movie of all time is Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers, I was in line to see Episode 3 when it opened, I think Star Trek: the Next Generation is the best Star Trek, and I literally ran to Borders book store after 5 hours of drinking when the 6th Harry Potter book came out. One of the websites I most frequent is MuggleNet. For reals. That's why it makes me extremely excited to watch this. Repeatedly.

Please click on the comments box to make fun of me. Thanks

Two things...

) My friend Chris just started a blog. Us bloggers got to help each other out, right? Fair warning, it's sports related so if you are looking for witty commentary about life in NY like every other blog out there, best not to click here. But, if you want to hear some witty commentary about the Jets and the Yankees (ick), well he's your dude. Plus he just got a SWEET job where he gets to attend Mets/Yankees home games a lot. SIGH. And Chris, when ESPN buys your blog for millions of dollars, I get some of that for starting you off. You hear?
The Day in Sports

2) You may have noticed that I have not been responding to comments as frequently as I have been the past two days. Well, there is a reason for that. You see, some C U Next Tuesday at work decided she didn't like me and decided to tell my boss I was on the internet all the time. Well, I really just keep my google chat open all day so I can see when people leave comments and/or google chat. (AIM is blocked at work. Those Draconian devils!) I think she was just intimidated by my beauty. So basically my internet usage has been limited to a small time in the am before everyone else gets to work, and lunch, and right before I leave. I know most of you were on the edge of your seats waiting for me to respond to comments, but unfortunately that will have to wait until I am no longer grounded at work. Thanks for staying with me through this very difficult time. Sniff.

Now I feel better about myself

So I have a new television obsession. It's called Intervention on A&E. Basically I just my entire Sunday night flipping between the Seattle/Denver game and this glorious new show. I know, I'm lame and addicted to tv. Has anyone else seen it? If not let me explain.

A&E follows around various addicts (meth, sex, alcohol, coke, shopping, etc) and videotapes their daily routine. The addicts agree to be filmed because they believe the crew is there for a "documentary". Now I love watching people more unfortunate that myself, and I think most people watch reality shows for that same reason. Come on, don't tell me you didn't watch Temptation Island and think, "dude, I'm so glad he's not MY boyfriend." Then the family attempts an "intervention" where everyone cries, and tells them how much they miss the person the addict used to be. The addicts always end up caving (pussies), and get sent to a rehabilitation place usually called "Promises" in Utah or Arizona. Then by the end of the show, they recap what the person has been up to since going into rehab. Most end up still sucking cock for a living to pay for their addiction, but hell, atleast I was entertained for an evening.

Anyways, my favorite are the meth addicts. I watched this one show with this girl named Christy, and she lived in this one room "apartment" (read: SHED) behind someone's house and it was literally cluttered with CRAP. Old food, boxes, books, empty bottles kept in her shower, you name it. This chick got so hopped up on meth, she started throwing a tv at her sister. While she was naked. NAKED! This bitch weighed like 100 lbs, and here she is throwing a tv at her sister! Not to mention she thought she was God. Or Jesus. Or some savior of some kind which she proved in some notebook with "calculations". She also would drink a handle of vodka a day, and would get old men to buy it for her just by asking nicely. What I really think is that Cristy needs to get on my flip cup team and start coming out with me so I can get free drinks more easily. I mean, come on. If I walked by a liquor store and asked a dude to buy me a bottle of something, he would probably punch me in the ovary. And I even have all my teeth!

Set your DV-R's now. You won't regret it.

Guess who just discovered photobooth?!

Look everyone! It's Eric Stoltz from The Mask!

He was a soldier of Rome!

This post has nothing to go with Gladiator, I just didn't have a subject line so I thought to myself, "Why not Gladiator?". Yes Megan, why NOT Gladiator?

I'm actually really hungover right now so just a few random thoughts regarding me being hungover (I know, this will be such a riveting read):

• Why do I always get excited and yell, "I'm going to be hungover at work tomorrow!" when I first start drinking? Being hungover at work is never fun. Especially when you have to puke and have to do it discreetly so the women on your floor don't think you are just purging your lunch.
• The event I went to last night had a raffle with the last prize awarded being box seats at a Rangers game. Chris and I got into a fight over which one of us Ria would take to the game if she won. All of us lost.
• To the gentlemen who bought me a "soco and lime shot", thanks. My current state of misery is probably due to the fact that you ended up just buying me a straight shot of Southern Comfort.
• I also gave my blog address to one of these guys and he promised to make a comment on my blog. He was wearing what could have been the ugliest shirt I have ever seen, but insisted there was some kind of CSI puzzle on it. I still have no idea what it meant, but he did promised that his comment would be the answer to his riddle of a shirt. I'm on pins and needles over here.
• To the two friends of the guy I gave my blog address to who will probably never read it unless CSI shirt fowards on the address. Dude #1-I apologize for making you listen to me as a drunkedly try to recite every bone in the human body to you. I'm a gong show sometimes. Dude #2-it was actually me, not Kim, who originally said your shirt looks like a bed sheet. You just caught her agreeing with me. Sorry, but your shirt DID look like a Ralph Lauren bed sheet.

Is today over yet?

You want her? You got her. Straight from the horses mouth. It's Reno time baby. GO!

My friend Ria, from IM conversation fame, recent marriages, and NYC marathons, has decided to write a post about me. You know, cause I'm great and all. But really, I am kind of ashamed of my last post so she decided to help a sister out. Ria's real name is Patricia, but for some reason she thought it would be a good idea to go by the name Ria. Let's avoid the diarrhea jokes here, because trust me when I say I have used them all. I like to refer to Ria is my token Asian friend too. Or Filipino friend, whatever. But really I just call her "my dark friend". And after reading what she wrote, I realize that she wants to put one of the most embarassing pictures of me ever taken on the fucking internet. So just a disclaimer, I don't normally sweat that much. That picture was taken on one of the hottest, most humid days of the year and the restaurant we just ate at had no air conditioning. Combine that with the fact I was sitting on a leather chair for a really extended period of time, and that the material of my shorts and top were really thin, well, you get the idea. It dried really quickly once I got up. So without further ado....

After much prodding (the good kind), I’ve finally agreed to do a post on this blog under the condition that I can write about my good chap Megan. But, I’m finding it slightly difficult to do this task because she keeps interrupting me on the company’s IM system asking me about my thoughts on the sexual habits of the paunchy, below-average looking middle-aged man that sits next to me. On a morning, when I’m slightly hungover, I really don’t want to discuss if Old Man River (that’s what we’ve lovingly named him) talks dirty or knocks the headboard. I would like to note that this is the man who overheard Megan talking about the upkeep of her pubic hair on a Monday morning. As you can see, it’s a very busy Friday morning in the company where the both of us work. And this brings me (kind of) to some of my favorite memories of good ole Megan.

1. “I touch you once, I touch you twice, I won’t let go at any price…” This song would remind most people of days of yore when people wore bad patterned sweaters and teenage boys had flat top hairstyles i.e., the 80’s. Fortunately for me, this song reminds me of the time when Megan serenaded our VP at our old job with this dirty song. There are two reasons why this scene was funny: a.) Our VP asked her what song she was singing to herself, and instead of lying and choosing a lame and less awkward song like “Happy Birthday”, she chooses to just sing the dirty song to our VP so he could get a feel for her groove thang. b.) Our VP was a gay man who had the personality comparable to wet cardboard and was probably mortified for the rest of the afternoon.


2. What better way to send a good friend off to married-world then to completely saturate your cute Bermuda shorts with good old fashioned SWASS. What is swass? That’s sweaty-ass. I think I’ll stop writing because only this picture will do it justice. What makes Megan the f’ing diggity bomb is that she continued on with my bachelorette party without changing and doing the robot and shamelessly singing Def Leppard at the top of her lungs. She did mimic going to the gyno in the cab which is the better than any food processor or ugly picture frame that a girl could get as a wedding present.


3. If I hadn’t spent hundreds of hours with Megan, I would go out on a limb and say that she had a set of testicles underneath her Citizen of Humanity jeans. Gross idea, but you must have a set of balls to actually say this to a stranger at a charity benefit: “I hate children’s charities.” Obviously, she was only kidding (I hope), but there were definitely crickets chirping after she said that. That’s okay because the guy we were talking to was Douchey McDouche.


4. Last but not least, Megan reminds me of the classy gal that I am. We both love chain restaurants and have been known to actually go to “The Garden” aka the Olive Garden 3 times in one year! We’re also the kind of girls that like bar food above any other type of cuisine. It’s all about ordering your entrée based on if it comes with French fries or not. Deep-fried Cow Dung with a side of crispy French Fries? Done and done.

Dude, did she really just call me her chap? And yes, we did work together at another company. We are inseparable. Our VP actually responded with, if I remember correctly, "I love that song!". So put that in your pipe and smoke it.