megfowler.com

So. Um. It didn’t let up. It’s still going.

We were all, “No, it’ll turn into rain.”

And the snow was all, “OH YEAH?”

But I maintain — at the risk of incurring more flurries — that this stuff will be drippy by Wednesday.

Not that it’s not drippy now. Imagine living inside a 7-Up Slurpee.

That’s what it’s like to walk on the streets. And while it looks pretty in the trees and on our lawns, all it feels like is WET.

COLD WET.

But I’m good with it. Because I love snow and snowy things. And I always have.

I’m not so certain the rest of Vancouver agrees with me, though. Why, just today, I saw:

• A black BMW smashed (off a slick road) into a power pole (which then smashed into a building)
• 4 traffic jams
• 300 people overdressed for the weather
• 10,000 people UNDERdressed for the weather (Thanks, Christina.)
• 5 people nearly slip and fall in parking lots
• 1 man falling in a parking lot
• People tearing wildly through displays of mittens and boots
• Approximately 24, 698 children begging their horrified-looking parents to take them to build a snowman

Whoa. I don’t really think most people here know what to do with the white stuff.

I just want to BUY things.

I saw MANY incidences of cute mitten-and-scarf sets today and dozens of hats I longed to wear, including a $200 Eugenia Kim toque.

When I tried the toque on, the shopgirls sighed. When I saw the price, I sighed.

See, the thing is? It’s hard to find a toque that flatters me. Why, you ask?

Because all toques make me look like a penis.

You think I’m kidding, but there’s something about the shape of my head that makes most hats into phallic symbols.

Look:

Is there no cute hat for Meg?

At least I had an excuse to wear pigtails without looking like a raver.

Here’s my other bit of random news:

I want Uggs.

If you search for that word within my blog content, you will read many incidences of me maligning them left and right. I always think they look like glorified slippers or gingerbread feet, which — now that I think of it — doesn’t sound so bad.

But starlets wear them. And fashiony girls in miniskirts with bare legs. Ugh. (Or, uh… not Ugg.)

Or at least they did. A year ago. Or five. BECAUSE I AM COMING LATE TO A TREND AGAIN.

I don’t know why I long for them so much, but there it is, I’m admitting it.

I was holding one in each hand in a store today, and as I slipped my fingers into the wooly-ness within, I nearly had a happygasm.

Me! Meg! The girl who walks barefoot in the snow! Wants WARM feet?!

What is GOING ON?

I’m still considering getting some. I may cave soon. But not likely, because who can afford such things if one is anti-credit card?

Still… maybe these ones (if I cave) in chocolate or chestnut.

Anyway.

It’s snowing. I want warm, soft things.

Like my bed.

Right about now.

You can vote from anywhere, you can vote daily, and you can vote for me in Best New Blog and Best Personal Blog.

And if you don’t vote? My head will always look like a penis.

Um…

I’m not sure I can argue.

My mother sent him out to knock snow off the lilac so it wouldn’t snap:

He’s a good man.

And, for cute value, TINY BIRDS:

Mmm. Tiny birds.

Vote for me, or the snow gets it.

This is Eddie.

Eddie is not my kitten. But he was in my hood.

Here is a bit of scale for you to understand just how small he is (since my head could be a giant melon for all you know… and what is with my chin in that picture?):

This is Eddie next to the shoe I wore today… err, flipflop.

Here is Eddie with Catherine, who does not have a giant melon head:

Kitten and Cat.

I had to make that joke.

And just some more Eddie, because you know you want it.

And here’s where he sniffed the lens. Try not to kiss your screen:

Just. oh. my. gosh.

And.

As if that weren’t enough goodness for one day, it SNOWED.

And here is the gorgeous Cat, modeling our Murchies’ Hot Chocolates at Oakridge, where we emerged into a newly wintry wonderland:

A good day.

Now if only the Canucks weren’t losing…

Maybe they will start to, if *I* win…

Hot cider or steamed milk?

Cell phone or landline?

Tv in the bedroom or no tv in the bedroom?

Hamster or gerbil?

Letterman or leno?

Short story or novel?

Saturday or sunday?

Rosemary or sage?

Thriller or romantic comedy?

Guitar or piano?

Confrontation or avoidance?

Marvin Gaye or Al Green?

Laptop or desktop?

Sean Connery or Roger Moore?

Potatoes or pasta?

Advil or Tylenol?

Red or white?

Trade school or university?

Peppermint or spearmint?

Dark or milk chocolate?

Oh, dear.

(And my friends are going to argue that my headline is FALSE! FALSE! but you know what I mean.)

Here’s some more things for David Blaine to try and escape from, if he’s bored:

• Amway
• Columbia House CD Club
• Chilliwack, BC (there are 70,000 PEOPLE who have not yet managed it!)
• News of Tom and Katie’s wedding, honeymoon, blahblahblah
• The clutches of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Vermonty Python
• My disdain

A Christmas party on a Thursday night in November.

Rock, rock on?

I know… it’s a little odd. But it works — and now I have at least one more night free in December to procrastinate about shopping! Woo!

I’ll give you some of the details in the form of bullet points, because I’m nothing if not utilitarian (lazy):

• 100+ people
• Mardi Gras theme
• Turkey dinner, cocktails, dancing, “gambling” — no actual money, just chips to turn in for prize draw tickets

Lots of people brought beads and masks for the theme, but I’m totally terrified of masks in general (and clowns) and I really liked my earrings and my ring (which you can see in my post from last night/this morning) too much to sully them with orange plastic as a final accessory.

And I know y’all want to see my dress. I talked a lot about the dress. But sadly? I cannot show you any photos that were taken of me in the dress — though many exist — because my mother would WEEP at me putting that much boob on the internet.

Did I mention the garment is a tad cleavage-y? And while The Judy did indeed MAKE the dress, I don’t know if she realized that a) it shows up slightly differently on film; and b) hormone therapy has… erm… increased my… assets. Which were already doing just fine.

Seriously. I’m not kidding. When I uploaded the pictures from my camera last night, I was slightly startled.

Anyhow.

Dinner was pretty good — a wee bit dry, but aren’t catered dinners always a wee bit dry? — and everyone seemed to have a lot of fun. The “gambling” cracked me up — all I played was roulette and blackjack, and sadly, I ended up with only few chips and no prizes at the end of the night.

That’s fine, though… it was prize enough to hear my fellow writer call the roulette guy a “crazy gypsy man, stealing my money!” (or something like that)

(And, by the way, he loved it… a table full of sparkly girls throwing chips at him and laughing like freaks at everything he said? That’s gold. I asked him if he was having fun, and he said, “I like your dress.”)

(DO YOU SEE WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT HERE?)

The night ended with everyone going fairly nuts on the dance floor, which is always my favourite part of every office celebration here. My office? Knows how to get DOWN. We worked it to everything from “You Shook Me All Night Long” to “Dancing Queen” (which my director made me go request as our last song of the night.)

And I forgot how crazy it is to see people you work with every day fairly… intoxicated. And super cheerful. And ardently chatty. And affectionate, too! I think I got hugs from people last night that I’ve never spoken to before.

The photos are pretty damn funny, too. But I’ve been forbidden from posting them. For the sake of public decency (and other peoples’ boobs.)

I returned home without becoming intoxicated — seriously? I’m ridiculous enough without it — but had possibly the most terrifyingly fast cab ride EVER. Did he think the meter would ring up a higher fare if he managed to break the sound barrier?

Then, I managed to walk into a door frame in my home — again, not intoxicated, I could do this in the middle of an afternoon with a glass of milk in my system and HAVE — and then discover later (when I went to wash my face in the bathroom) that there was blood all over my face and chest.

Merry Christmas, nose.

And Merry Christmas, office.

You guys are fun.

BONUS: Here is my lovely fellow writer Johanna in her “mask” from last night, as applied by her lovely friend Derek:

Startled, but cute.

So all you get is this:

Wow. I was so tired I didn’t remember I never smile in photos.

Here.

Stick THAT in your turkey.

Tonight is my staff Christmas party.

I’m wearing the same dress I wore last year.

Now, for those of you ladies who just clutched your chest in horror at the spectre of a fashion repeat, let me fill in a few blanks:

• The dress is too epic for just one wearing
• We have lots of new staff who haven’t seen it
• When I twirl in it, I feel like Audrey Hepburn

The last one is reason enough to practically SLEEP in the thing. Which I did. For about ten minutes. When I got home from the party last year.

SO.

I think I’m going hair down and curly, and sparkly makeup for that festive, “MY FACE IS A DISCO BALL” appeal.

I wish I could rock something a little more edgy, but have you looked at me? Not so edgy. I don’t think my face has seen an edge since I fell down at a rink and someone nearly skated over my head. I am more Myrna Loy than Debbie Harry.

I’m excited to be going out, I must say.
I could use the going out. I love the going out.

And I enjoy the people I work with, which makes me really, really lucky. I don’t even NEED to bring a date, which is GOOD, because James Blake was not free this evening.

And on another, unrelated yet Christmassy note…

LOOK. SNOW. MAYBE.

Now THAT would be sweet.