11.18.2009

Another slap in the face from Chris Brown

It is currently 11 o'clock in the morning. I just got into the office. I was supposed to be here at 9. Was the metro delayed, you ask? No. No, it was not. Am I not feeling well? No worse than usual. Did I have another early morning training session? LOLZ, Christ no. The truth of the mater is that I am two hours late to work because I was having a really intense dream about Chris Brown and I wanted to see how it ended. That's it. Just sheer curiosity. The level of apathy I feel towards my job is starting to genuinely concern me. Because my job is literally to show up on time, open the door, sit here and take it like a bitch. That's the ballgame. It couldn't be easier. And yet apparently, an intense dream about Chris Brown is all that stands between me and being able to do that. I used to say that I worked just hard enough not to get fired, but I don't think that's a completely truthful statement anymore. I think I work just hard enough to not be deemed legally dead.

In my defense, it was a good dream. I dreamt that MTV gave me a show where I take celebrities to their hometowns and we reminisce and giggle and LOL about the way we were. And I know exactly where this part of the dream came from. For some ungodly reason, I randomly remembered yesterday that Ol' Dirty Bastard is dead. Obviously, I began musing to myself about my favorite ODB memories and thought of the time he took MTV back to his old Brooklyn 'hood and tried to cash a welfare check and use food stamps for shits and giggles and it totally worked. Dirt McGirt. God took one angel too many...ANYWAY! So I was filming an episode of my hit MTV show, which I have retrospectively named Misty Water-Colored Meggles, and spent the first half of the show with Lady Gaga at her old Elementary school. The only thing I remember from this part is that I went into the bathroom and there were newspaper clippings all over the walls about how everyone was so proud that the town butcher's daughter is now a big star and people come from miles around to get a cut of Lady Gaga's father's famous meats. I also distinctively remember making a mental note to swing by his shop after my interview to grab a few T-bones for the road. So, there's that. And that is fat.

After I loaded up on Mr. Gaga's fine meats, I headed into the city to hook up with Jay-Z. Interestingly enough, I wasn't actually there to interview Jay. I was there to interview Chris Brown but didn't feel comfortable being alone with him and demanded that MTV send Jay-Z with Chris to chaperone. This is hilarious on multiple levels, specifically because I enjoy the massive dream balls I must have had to refuse an interview with Chris Brown unless Jay-Z physically places his body over mine in the event that Chris Brown gets slap-happy. Either way, both Jay-Z and Chris Brown were obviously so desperate to be on Misty Water-Colored Meggles that they agreed to my terms and away we went in Jay-Z's shiny, red Cadillac to explore Chris Brown's old 'hood.

Flash to me sitting shotgun and Chris Brown in the back seat, tweaking out of his fucking mind. He couldn't stay still. He was bouncing off the walls, talking a mile a minute, shouting, twitching, scratching and demanding that Jay-Z "give him a hit." "I KNOW YOU HAVE IT!!!!" Chris shouted at Jay. "You don't need anymore, man," Jay yelled to the back seat. "Jay-Z, what the fuck is going on??" I asked. Jay leaned over and whispered into my ear, "Nobody knows this, but Chris Brown is a crack addict. Honestly Meg, he can barely function. He's been out of his mind for years. He's a sick, sick man." The gears in my head started turning and it felt like everything was finally falling into place. "OHHHHHH!" I thought to myself. "He's a crack addict! This explains so much! I've seen Intervention! Addiction is a sick disease that makes you do horrible things! It was the crack that beat up Rihanna, not Chris Brown!" I grabbed Jay-Z by the scruff and pulled him in, "Jay, you don't understand. If the world knows that Chris Brown is a crack addict, they'll totally understand and forgive him for what he did to Rihanna. THE WORLD HAS TO KNOW, JAY! THEY HAVE TO KNOW!!!"

And that's when I realized my alarm clock was going off. It was 7:45. My alarm had been set for 6:30. This means that I had been sleeping through my alarm (which sounds like robots raping you in the ears, by the way) for well over an hour. Instead of being like, "Oh shit! I should have been in the shower 15 minutes ago, better get up," I turned off my alarm, rolled over and was like, "NOPE. Gotta see how this ends," and went directly back to sleep. Now, I took AP Psych with the best of 'em. I'm well aware that you can't hop back into a dream once you've woken up. However, if there was ever a time to try—it was now. Chris Brown's public image was on the line and Jay-Z and I were this close to clearing his name. Except instead of going back into my dream and saving him, I just peacefully slept until 9:50, woke up and realized what I had just done. Namely, compromised my job to see if I could save Chris Brown from wife-beater status in my dreams and only in my dreams.

I sat up in bed, took a long, hard look in the mirror, shook my head in disappointment and sent a text to my boss saying that I was at a follow-up dentist appointment and I can't talk because they're replacing a filling and I'm going to be late because they kept me waiting forever but we don't have an appointment until 2 and ohmygosh! I'm just so sorry! Now I have to keep up this dental charade all day and it's like a god damn improv workshop in here because I keep overacting and clutching my invisible filling in "pain" every five minutes (as I drink hot coffee and eat a granola bar) and it's just entirely pathetic. What's even more pathetic is that this isn't even the first time I've consciously ignored real-world responsibilities to stay in a celebrity dream. The following is an actual excerpt from my emo college Live Journal from an entry dated November 27, 2005:

Danielle and I are trying to find a 2-bedroom apartment, but not in The Berks because a 2-bedroom is astronomically expensive here. We're trying to stay in the area though, because as my parents pointed out, "We're worried if you move too far off campus, you'll stop going to class." "What?! I always go to class!" "Meghan, you just told us that you didn't go to your morning class Tuesday because you had a quote, 'really intense dream about Mo Rocca'." ".........Touché."

...At least I'm consistent in the ways I choose to fuck-up my life.

Chris Brown. I'm still rooting for you.

25 comments:

Katie said...

I managed to fall back into a dream before, swear to God. It can totally be done. And frankly, that dream sounds like a damn good reason to be late to work to me.

Caroline said...

i did the exact same thing this morning, except that i was dreaming that i was an interior designer and i'd been chosen to redecorate one of the old vanderbilt houses. i was ripping down 100 year old wallpaper and painting over a cherub mural when i heard my alarm go off and realized i was an hour late for work.

maybe it's the moon? does the moon do crazy things to your sleep cycle?

austin said...

Caroline, I like your theory. Every month I have a recurring dream that involves my missing one class for an entire college semester (but probably not because I wanted to finish a dream about Mo Rocca), and the final exam is the next day. I'm completely unprepared, so I spend my entire dream flipping shit over what to do.

This is the kind of thing I have to look forward to once a month.

2 Birds, 1 Blog: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

ARE YOU ABOUT TO START YOUR PERIOD?! Because (god willing) I am. Maybe it has something to do with that.

Was that an overshare? Is Boss #1 seeping into my subconscious?

James said...

HOLY SHIT. Did you just say "god willing" to your period starting?! Has the Months-Of-Sundays-Dry-Spell ENDED??? WHY WERE WE NOT INFORMED OF THIS?

Abbie said...

Sweet god someone who knows who Mo Rocca is. I saw him in Ann Arbor a few months ago. He looked familiar (Iron Chef), but stood out because of his crazy pink pants and glasses. We weren't sure it was him until we got close enough to hear him on his phone. My boyfriend and I then proceeded to 'stalk' him in the hopes for an autograph, but he was on the phone the whole time and we didn't want to bug him. Needless to say, I rue not accosting him and making him sign the back of my genetics notes. Aaand I've been holding that story in for months because no one knows who Mo Rocca is, and it's meaningless unless you can picture a 6'4 man in tight pink pants, sports jacket and black horn-rimmed glasses. So thanks.

Natalie said...

I too overslept for work this morning and sent the "ZOMG - on my way, something ran long" text to a coworker.

Meggles, you're strumming my pain with your fingers, singing my life with your words - but it's my stank ass job that's killing me softly.

Anonymous said...

Must be the moon and/or the physics of my flow that is throwing everyone off today. I, too, was 45 minutes late to work. I was having a, umm... "sexy dream". I think I need to get some. And find a new job.

2 Birds, 1 Blog: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

HOLY SHIT. Did you just say "god willing" to your period starting?! Has the Months-Of-Sundays-Dry-Spell ENDED??? WHY WERE WE NOT INFORMED OF THIS?
I just got this great mental image of me rolling over after sex and being like, "Pardon, just have to blog about this."

Sweet god someone who knows who Mo Rocca is. I saw him in Ann Arbor a few months ago.
That's luda and I'm sad you didn't get his autograph. My sister catered his father's funeral and I kept being like, "DID YOU GET AN AUTOGRAPH?! DID YOU TALK TO HIM?!" And she was like, "Funeral Meg...funeral."

Meggles, you're strumming my pain with your fingers, singing my life with your words - but it's my stank ass job that's killing me softly.
One time, one time.

I was having a, umm... "sexy dream". I think I need to get some. And find a new job.
Ugh. Sex dream hangovers are the worst because you're not quite satisfied but still slightly banged out. I call it "Ghost Sex".

James said...

I just got this great mental image of me rolling over after sex and being like, "Pardon, just have to blog about this."

I just got a great mental image of you getting that mental image, laughing and shaking your head and going "Oh, that James. He gets me every time."

P.S. Welcome back to the World of Sex, Meg!

Chrissie said...

haha! I have a recurring dream that I'm best friends with the Olson Twins and that they are always fighting over which one of them I like best.

I also didn't go to class one day in college because I had an extremely realistic dream that I got pregnant and had a baby and that I would get people to babysit the baby in the dorms while I went to class. I was so disturbed by that dream I missed a whole day!

Melody said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Melody said...

Was that an overshare? Is Boss #1 seeping into my subconscious?

I definitely just read that as your boss SLEEPING WITH your subconscious.

Bobby said...

austin, I have that exact same dream often. Except sometimes in mine instead of the final, I just remember to go to class once but have absolutely no idea what's going on. Or I realize every day that I forget to go, then the final comes up.

Shelley Greenberg said...

Another awkward laughing out loud in the middle of my work day for no apparent reason moment brought to me by 2birds1blog. Thank you.

Yesterday I asked why you don't quit your miserable job and become a full time writer but now I realize that would zap all of your material! What would you write about if you were happy? Ponies and flowers and shit? No thank you. I'll take my Meghan C. McBlogger angry and unhappy, please. Hold the Jaeger.

Margo said...

OMG- i just started my period last night and over slept through my alarm this morning!!! By like 45 minutes, too. I think it's totally a gynecological- related phenomenon.

Caitlin said...

My ex lived in The Berks. Overpriced and gross! And about the only place I got any during college...

2 Birds, 1 Blog: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

Yesterday I asked why you don't quit your miserable job and become a full time writer but now I realize that would zap all of your material! What would you write about if you were happy? Ponies and flowers and shit? No thank you. I'll take my Meghan C. McBlogger angry and unhappy, please. Hold the Jaeger.
I can write happy too! I am happy. I'm just naturally full of piss and vinegar. It's part of my charm.

Anonymous said...

woah, woah, woah. wait. i'm w/ james on this one. we deserve to know who this guy is! is he worthy of being the guy banging meg mcblogger???

Shelley Greenberg said...

I know you're naturally full of piss and vinegar. That's what we all love about you. And for purely selfish reasons, I'd never want you to lose that. It's the sunshine of my day. ;)

JKreids said...

HaAAAaa!! I'm surprised Eminem didn't make a cameo in this one and want to make out with you again.

I had a dream about Liza Minelli a few weeks ago. She was singing in a school auditorium and smoking cigarettes on stage... she yelled at someone in the audience to adjust her record player.

Wish Jay-Z was there instead.

Julie said...

That's hysterical..I have actually continued a dream after waking up...it only happens so often, it's like the Haley's comet of dream-continuance, but it's amazing.

Nate said...

ZOMG

I have been drinking Hot Toddies all day because I'm sick and I CAN'T FEEL MY FEET RIGHT NOW.

Also, hi and I love you.

Cassie said...

I spent the entire time reading this post nodding in approval, probably because I also have a job where I do little more than occupy space, and at least a dream like this one would give me something to occupy my thoughts with while vegetating.

Also, a t-bone sounds really good right about now. So there's that too.

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