Reality television. In any form.
Pop psychology.
Parents being competitive on their children’s behalf.
Large belts cinching everything.
Heel calluses.
Celebrity pregnancies.
The size of my butt.
Sunday night stress-outs.
Hair extensions.
The term “snark”.
My wireless router’s issue with my bedroom.
Horror movie remakes.
Juices with too many kinds of juice in them.
Passive-aggressiveness.
The monochromatic shirt/tie combo.
The looking-through-of-boxes went off without a hitch last night, though I have to say it was surreal to be reunited with strange items like my Rowlf the Dog Ceramic Piano and the now-mangled trophy I received for winning the Journalism 12 award (in grade ten.)
Sometimes it surprises me to look back and see the things I loved (a doll that smelled like oranges?), and sometimes, it makes absolute sense… because I still love those things.
What things?
Well, my Kermit the Frog with velcro flippers, my Snoopy doll with the wardrobe of clothes (including his rainwear, his baseball uniform, his surgical scrubs, and his track suit), and my “minky”: a large, fluffy monkey my Uncle Dave bought for me when I was six or seven.
Now, initially, I did not like the minky, because he was as big as my upper body and furry in a way that none of my other animals were. I believe I rejected him on sight, actually, which led to a series of follow-up gifts attempting to win back my heart (probably a bad precedent to set, but it worked out just fine for me.)
Fortunately (as with half the guys I’ve dated) I got past his weird looks and hairiness and fell utterly in love.
(With the minky, not my Uncle Dave.)
I also got to re-discover a bunch of my old elementary-age poetry and some report cards that indicated that a) I had an oddly vocal sense of humour in first grade; and b) I did not feel math was relevant to my future (grade three.)
I’ll be posting some photos of my “art” and excerpts from such fine treatises as “How To Care For a Dog” and “Lola and Lana the Christmas Mice”. Oh, and the photo of me winning the pumpkin carving contest in second grade in which the pumpkin and I are missing the same tooth.
Awesome.
I don’t know about you, but when I think of things that are fun to do at 4:30 in the morning, sitting in an ambulance wearing only a quilt and woolly boots is right up there.
Well, and pajamas, yes, but no one was going to see THOSE.
We woke early this morning to our fire alarm having a hissy fit and the distinct, cringe-worthy smell of smoke.
After checking to make sure that we weren’t the ones that set everything off (did we leave the cider on? The tree plugged in? are we running a meth lab?), we grabbed something to cover ourselves and ran out to the front porch, where we met our neighbours and their baby. Catherine called 911 and within another couple moments, our downstairs neighbour had joined us, too.
Fully clothed, mind you. With his laptop bag. Smart guy.
I started thinking of all the things I should go in and grab, but then we heard the sirens.
Lots of sirens.
And then they arrived.
Four police cars with eight police folks.
One ambulance with two paramedics.
Two fire engines with at least nine firemen.
My goodness.
Gorgeousness all around, and me looking like an ottoman with a bad slipcover. Ole!
They looked a bit hesitant to go in the house (given the uncertain origin of the smoke) but in a few moments, they were tromping about on all levels.
And instead of worrying about the place burning into oblivion, I was asking myself sage questions like:
Do I have bad breath?
Did I leave underwear on the floor?
How does one accentuate one’s figure with a blanket?
Sigh. Shameful.
They finally loaded us into the ambulance (since the temperature was well into the single digits) and so we (Dean, Karen, baby Presley, Catherine and I) sat and laughed at the fact that Karen had remembered to snag her most expensive purse after taking care of her most important concern (Presley, naturally.)
Oh, and we had to mock my attire. Because I was rocking a look I swore I’d never even try.
Uggs with bare legs.
So how does the story end?
They let us back into our apartment after divining that our furnace motor was on fire (!!!) and pumping smoke through the house. It ceased to be a problem once the furnace was turned off. So we’ll be chilly for a couple of days if our landlord doesn’t get it fixed up soon.
Dean and Karen went off to Starbucks (that baby was UP) and brought me a latte.
I was a half-hour early for work.
I’m frickin’ tired.
And how are you?
* Still sick. I keep choking on my own throat. Is that weird?
* Sunny in Vancouver today.
* Happy to be in November, because that means Halloween is over and all the tarty nurse costumes will go back where they belong — in the fantasies of awkward men.
* GINGERBREAD LATTE!
* Wooly gray cable-knit sweater.
* Desperately in need of professional eyebrow maintenance.
* Going to buy red lipstick and revisit my late twenties.
* In love with Paul Adelstein. Slowly realizing I have an obsession with dark-haired Chicago natives.
1. I never, ever finish a pint of ice cream. I leave it in the freezer until it frosts over like the hinterlands, and toss it out half-full.
2. I don’t cough like a normal person. It’s more of a seal bark. I’ve had the same cough since I was a baby, and it used to scare the life out of people when baby-birdesque wee Meg would let out her horrible, sharp hacks.
3. I have a lazy eye that is only evident when I’m dead tired or incredibly nervous. This is a potentially nightmarish combo if I don’t sleep the night before a big meeting or a date. (Hahaha. I just said “date” like that’s an everyday occurrence, when in reality… hello, Halley’s Comet.)
4. I’ve never made risotto, yet I have tons of recipes for risotto. I even give out my risotto recipes. Apparently, I am a risotto fraud. Or I suffer from risotto anxiety. I’m pretty sure I’m insane.
5. I have to set time limits on eyebrow tweezing, or I become obsessive.
6. I once performed “I Will Survive” in a shark costume. Then I wanted to wear the costume all the time. Even while sitting at a desk reading email, or having a cup of coffee. For some reason, the shark costume made me feel completely at ease in the world. I don’t know what that means.
7. I spell the following words wrong the first time every damn time: tomorrow; irrelevant; irresistible; commitment; homemade; judgment; and conscious.
8. The less preparation I do for a speech or toast, the better. If I bring notes, I’ll spend the entire time trying to remember my point. No notes? Smooth as silk.
9. I don’t like doing word games, like crosswords or fill-ins. I do, however, love it when other people do crosswords and ask me for my guesses.
10. I have zero desire to go back to high school. None. Nada. But my first two years of university were GOLD. I’d do them again in a heartbeat.
11. I literally want to run up to men in the street and groom them. Not like a monkey or anything, but just CUT YOUR HAIR or WASH YOUR FACE or TRIM YOUR NOSE AND EAR FOLIAGE or YOUR PANTS ARE BEYOND VIOLATING or I JUST SNAGGED YOUR EYEBROW ON MY SHIRT. I honestly believe most men are really attractive in some way. I have a broad concept of masculine beauty (ha! pun!) But I think a ton of them sell it out by ignoring five minute personal chores.
12. I never use coupons.
13. Whenever I put on running shoes, I feel like bouncing up and down. Boing. Boing. It’s an irresistible urge.
14. I have thousands of lists yet unwritten.
Update:
15. I like to publish lists one item short. See comments below!
So I got these (in that colour, too), because I figured that was better than shelling out gobs of cash for a pair of Uggs without knowing if I could handle wearing fluffy booties or not.
They’re my training Uggs.
Obviously, they are suede and wool, not shearling, but maaaaan. Cozy. Comfy. Like wearing foot clouds. I can tell Uggs are more luxe, but these feel pretty damn good, too.
No, I don’t wear my jeans tucked into them, because I WON’T OWN JEANS WITH TAPERED ANKLES EVEN IF CLINTON AND STACY TELL ME TO.
Not that they would. I’d look like a drumstick. With fluffy boots.
No, I am not planning to wear them with a miniskirt and leg warmers. I have only owned one pair of legwarmers, and they went with a turquoise sweater dress I had when I was ten.
I did look pretty awesome, thank you.
I’m just wearing them with normal, bootcut jeans and a happy sweater, but I actually look FOR ONCE like I’m dressed for the weather.
Also?
Sun came out.
WOO!
Now all that’s left is the SARS that is currently eating my body.
Maybe the boots will cure it?
I wish I had a big ol’ dance studio of my very own.
I would dance for hours at a time — all by myself, mind you — to everything from Missy to Tchaikovsky.
Did I mention I don’t really know HOW to dance? Like, at all?
Still, it would be cool, especially when I’d do knee slides across the hardwood floor, and rock my own personal cartwheel, which looks a lot like someone trying to get out of a boat.
***
I wish I had my own cooking show, complete with tons of ovens and invisible, silent assistants handing me completed souffles and facilitating apron changes when I sprayed myself with pomegranate blood.
The problem is that I’d become so distracted by the cameras and microphones that I’d catch my sleeve on fire and end up on YouTube with a ruined batch of baklava and a two-foot scar.
***
I wish I had a bulky sweater that made me look thin.
Sound like a contradiction? No way.
You’ve seen those Old Spice ads where the wee model girl is traipsing about in some giant fisherman’s knitted thing, acres of legs left bare, while her shirtless sweater-sacrificing Spice Guy slaps a little sex appeal onto his cheeks.
She looks all lithe and lost in the sheer mass of fibres.
I think I could pull it off if I never had to wear pants.
***
I wish I had teeth that repelled any sort of green items.
If there is a touch of herb or a swatch of spinach looking to attach to someone’s central incisor, it’s going to find me… even if I don’t eat anything with herbs or spinach in it.
In fact, I think I could drink a glass of water and end up blacking out a tooth Deliverance-style with a head of romaine.
What I really love is how subtle people try to be when they tell you about it: “Oh, you’ve just got a little something right… yep… right there. No, you didn’t get it. Up a little. Oooh, sorry, no. Just the next tooth over… oh, missed it. Do you want a mirror?”
Then, when you get the mirror, you discover that you have so much salad trapped in your dental work that you might as well install a Sneeze-Gard on your upper lip.
***
I wish I had a travel mug that actually kept liquids hot. And I don’t mean for a couple hours.
I mean for several days on end.
Then I would only go to Starbucks once a month.
News to the minute:
1. I’m not buying Uggs. What kind of moron, after slagging a brand of shoes for years — and refusing to wear ANY shoes herself PERIOD because they make her feet too hot — goes and spends more than $200 of her hard-earned money on footwear designed for optimal warmth?
I live in a WET city, not a cold one. I like my feet fresh and COOL, not swathed in suede-y, wooly hell. I still don’t know what I was thinking. It was like a small trend virus captured my brain. But I’m healthy now. And have no idea what type of shoes to buy for the upcoming more-wet, less-warm season. Back to square (puddle) one.
2. My sore throat from earlier has officially blossomed into a sort of burr-in-throat sensation accompanied by achy ears. I could be having an allergic reaction to something (maybe it was all that eye contact with the new laundry spider?), but if that’s the case, it should pass soon.
I DON’T HAVE TIME TO GET SICK. Just so you know. There will be no tolerance.
3. GO CANUCKS GO! With two decent wins over the Oilers in a Home-Home series this weekend, I think our boys are almost officially “back” from the Philly fiasco. We face the SJ Sharks tonight, and I think we need that victory to seal the deal and get us focused back on the big, long season ahead, and not just a blowout fluke of a contest.
Luongo is still whoa. No other way to say it. And I was pleased to see Brendan Morrison stepping up this weekend… and even a bit of fire (and a smile?!) out of Naslund! Could Vigneault have finally found his number?
And no, Darren… Trev is most certainly NOT done yet. You don’t ride out the crap he went through before the pre-season just to hang up your skates.
I think he’s just warming up and getting his legs under him for a great final period of leadership. That team needs his steadiness right now.
4. Has anyone ever actually taken that Cold fX stuff? It sure didn’t help me make a positive buying decision when my own most-loathed former NHL player was the front page spokesman! Gah!
GEE, THANKS FOR HELPING HIM STAY IN THE GAME.
This was honestly one of the funniest posts that has ever appeared on my blog, and certainly not because of the writing… no, no.
It was all about the comments. Seriously. Read them. Go do it now.
I couldn’t believe how many absolutely magical trashy confessions you guys came up with.
And because it’s a rainy Wednesday, and because I have a headache, and because I feel like it, I figured we should dip into the well of shame once again and give class a pass!
Throw open those closets! Pull out those skeletons!
Show me the bag of ranch-flavoured Cornuts in your desk drawer! Reveal the playlist with NKOTB on your iPod! Tell me what you wear in the privacy of your own home when no one but Judge Alex can look out at you from the TV!
Here are mine:
MEG’S 2007 TRASHY CONFESSIONS:
1. I have songs by all the following artists on my iPod (in one single playlist, in fact): K7, Notorious B.I.G, Ginuwine, Jordan Knight, Def Leppard, Guns N Roses, KISS, and AC/DC. I know they don’t go together. That’s why I love that playlist. And hide my iPod so no one can see the screen when I’m listening to it on the bus.
2. I actually considered getting “skinny” (and that’s a misnomer, considering my ass) jeans to wear with my future Uggs. Yeah. Did you hear that? That was the sound of the universe shattering into a thousand pieces. And all to avoid bunchy ankles with the updated version of moonboots. Or mukluks. Or wearing an entire sheep on your foot.
3. I have a big crush on Armando Montelongo on Flip This House. He’s a jerk a good portion of the time. He plays practical jokes on people. He treats his project managers like crap. Yet? I’d let him flip my house anyday.
4. I type my first name into Google.ca and Google.com to see where I am in the results: #5 for Meg on Google.ca today, and #13 on Google.com. Bastards.
5. I have more kinds of lip gloss than I have all of the following in combination: shoes, pants, and sweaters. Clearly I think it’s going to keep me warm.
6. I once killed a man, just to watch him die. JUST KIDDING.
7. I really love how my voice sounds when I have laryngitis. So I’ll sing the national anthem really loudly when I feel it going, just to help the process along.
8. My keychain looks like a giant engagement ring. No, I didn’t buy it (Matt and Catherine!) But I use it.
9. I like the garlic fries at Safeco Field, the scary artificial nachos at GM Place, and the cotton candy at Nat Bailey Stadium.
10. I embrace the power of cleavage.
11. I own a giant white beanbag chair. It got sent to my office. I can’t figure out how to get it home. More on that later.
Okay… so tell me.
What’s trashy about YOU?
