"My mother, that's who I need"

I'd like to address the following comment from last Tuesday's post about my parents abandoning me on my sixth birthday to go to Monte Carlo:

So when I first read that, I was like, "BAHA, amazing pop culture reference. You are my new best friend," and replied saying as much. But then as the day went on, I started worrying, "Wait, maybe Jocelyn wasn't excited that my life shares a common thread with Troop Beverly Hills and really was accusing me of trying to pass off a TP storyline as my own...?" And let me tell you something: nothing gets my goat more than people accusing me of shenanigans. Because why would I lie to you? Why would I make shit up? Do you know how much effort it takes to make shit up? Too much. That's why this isn't Meg McBlogger's well-researched, Regency Era murder-mystery blog; it's Meg McBlogger's "today I choked on cantaloupe and played with my Aspie's Clip. It was a day," blog. One of these things is easier than the other.

(Side note: Speaking of accusations of shenanigans, about a year ago I got an email from a guy asking if I was actually "a real person," and it was the biggest mindfuck I'd ever experienced. My reply derailed at an almost impressive rate: "Dear [Said Guy]: I'm pretty sure I'm a real person. Or as a real as anyone can be sure they are. Because I suppose there's always a chance that none of this is actually happening and this is a simulated reality created by machines like in the Matrix, or we exist only in the complex fantasies of a kid with Down's Syndrome like in St. Elsewhere, in which case, no, I don't exist, but that means that that you don't exist either, so why would you be questioning my existence in the first place?" And that's when I had a panic attack and ran away from my computer like a small child because someone who has as many anxiety problems as I do should never think about that much about their own existence. But for the record: I am a real person. I am a real person, who just took a real Klonopin. While doing real breathing exercises. In a real hot shower.)

So, yes, I was pissed, but I was willing to let it go because I'm working on this new thing where I don't let blog comments and/or emails control my life to the point where I'm calling Tulane Chris on a semi-regular basis with bad acid reflux in the Self-Help section of Barnes & Noble asking him to bring me Zantac and hold me. But then I went out to dinner with my parents tonight and my mom was like, "CAN YOU BELEIVE SOMEONE ACCUSED YOU OF MAKING UP THE MONTE CARLO STORY?!?!" and it opened up that can of worms all over again. But thankfully for all of us, I recieved this email about an hour ago:
From: mom  
Subject: monte carlo
hi meg, 
you know that i don't like to invade your professional life, but i feel that i have to set the record straight for your readers. here goes.  
i realize that much of the time meg lives in her own world, a world inhabited by helper monkeys and fox dogs, and we love her for it. however, her tale of woe regarding a certain trip to monte carlo is absolutely factual. come on, readers, did you really think that things like that only happen in movies? i do take exception to the term "vacation". it was a business trip. a really nice business trip, but business none the less. despite all of the trials and tribulations, real or merely perceived, you survived. do you even remember that i went to england by myself when you were two years old, leaving you with...of all people... your father?! mothers do go away, meg, but most of the time, we do come back. i love you like a peacock loves rice krispies. 
mom mcb
(Hehehe...she threw in an inside joke. Peacocks.)

OK, look: I know my mom was trying to have my back there—and bless her heart for doing so—however, there are a few points I'd like to address:

1.) Diane: you are a lambchop for referring to this little goat 'n pony show as my "professional life". I know we've had our differences (specifically that you abandoned me on my sixth birthday to stretch out on a yacht like a cat in the sun for two weeks while I went on a hunger strike and contemplated the meaning of life,) but you're the best.

2.) Maybe I wouldn't have to live in my own world if this one didn't suck so much. (HAHAHAHA! I legitamtely just laughed-out-loud at my own emo-ness. That felt like something Dawn would say on Buffy.) (← Fag.)

3.) A BUSINESS TRIP. A "BUSINESS" TRIP. Are you kidding me? a.) What business is Dad in that he just has to jet set off to Monte Carlo for weeks on end or else he'll lose his job? MI6? Formula-1? High-stakes poker? Last time I checked he was in HR. b.) OK, let's just say hypothetically I'm willing to accept that Dad did have a business trip in Monte Carlo because it was the late 80's and everyone was going on lavish business trips and doing rails off their DeLoreans, it still doesn't make a lick of difference! You were gone for two weeks: one week was supposedly for "business" and one week was for funzies. My birthday fell on funzies. FUNZIES, MOM—FUNZIES.

4.) Your trip to England in no way compares to Monte Carlo. (God, how obnoxious do we sound right now? I'm 10 seconds away from deleting this entire post, throwing Turtle Rapes Shoe up for tomorrow and working this out in an emergency therapy session where they already think I'm a middle-class piece of shit just by virtue of being there.) First of all, as you yourself pointed out, you went to England. Not you and Dad, just you. And while I agree that Dad demonstrates a "unique" level of responsibility with his children (i.e. the time he paid me $5 to snort a line of fresh cracked pepper, I did, and subsequently burst into tears, ran upstairs and shoved a Q-tip so far up my nose I thought I was going to give myself a labotomy,) at least AN parent was there! If I couldn't have been with both of my parents on my sixth birthday, one would have been acceptable. Because you know what wasn't acceptable? Spending my birthday with some Bible-thumping Army wife who was all, "HEY, HALF-BREED JEW HEATHEN! GUESS WHAT I GOT YOU FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? HORN POLISH AND A NOSE JOB! SEE YOU IN HEL!" Six. Years. Young.

5.) I don't actually have a fifth point, I just prefer to go out on odd numbers.

So. Yeah. Thank you for having my back slash I still don't forgive you slash you never apologized slash if you did, I wouldn't forgive you. So, you know, food for thought.

At least we'll always have that Girl Scouts orienteering trip when you got overzealous and took me and my troop on a short cut through the canyon, only to discover that the bridge was out, so I—cocky from my gymnastics lessons—decided to walk across a fallen tree to get to the other side and fix it, which was a good plan until I twisted my ankle and got stuck halfway across (classic Meg), but ever the loving mother and fearless troop leader, you conquered your fear of heights to get across the tree, save me, and ultimately SAVE THE DAY.

And attracted by your newfound confidence, Craig T. Nelson decided he wanted to hit that again.


Francesca said...

Sadly, this movie has somehow slipped through the cracks of my childhood, but you better believe that's shooting straight to the top of my netflix queue! I just watched that clip and got a little bit angry when I recognized that cheeky blonde girl as that bitch Margot from Punky Brewster, but I'll still give it a shot.

Anonymous said...

best. movie. ever.

Blake said...

How old were you when your dad paid you the $5 for that trick?

Jon Hanson said...

As I have found, my real life trumps movie plots about 90% of the time. You seem to be the same way. It's not like I ask for these weird things to happen to me, they just do.

Thankfully we get to share our pain, err, I mean experiences with the world!


Unknown said...

Meg, I totally noticed the Troop Bev. Hills / Chica connection but in no way did I think you were making it up. Its just an awesome connection that you have with Shelly Long.

Jocelyn said...

Hi Meg!

I just thought that I should respond and set the record straight about my comment. I read your blog last week and was so pumped by the parallels of your life to Chica from Troop Beverly Hills that I had to comment just to see if was one of your fabulous pop-culture references or a true story. There was no mind-fuck meant behind it. I'm just literally obsessed with Troop Beverly Hills and hash brown and ketchup cakes (which coincidentally also make an appearance during a Full House episode when Kimmy Gibbler's b-day is forgotten). So I commented and then forgot to check back because my day at work got busy. I haven't checked the blog in a week b/c I went on Thanksgiving vacation to parent's house for the last week. So imagine my surprise and embarrassment when I opened your blog this morning to see that my comment had frosted your cookies. If I had seen your post back about being new biffles I would have jumped on that so fast. We could have been having a Troop Beverly Hills lovefest all weekend. Plus I hate it when people write mean shit to you on this blog b/c you are awesome; trust me I'm no hater on the 2b1b.

In conclusion, I hope you can forgive me because I love you, Chris, and the whole McBlogger family! And if not, I might just have to move to Monte Carlo...

Unknown said...

Oh and the Buffy comment, brilliant. Dawn sucks.

Anonymous said...

Come to think of it, I do remember watching a movie where the protagonist forgets to bring a jewel case for her class assignment CD and puts it in a ziploc, writing "Orry about the bag" on it.

Anonymous said...

Jocelyn, I totally feel you...in that I will be trying to compliment someone and then accidentally say something that they take offense to. Meg, you are awesome and I 1000% believe most everything you write. Mostly because some of it is too insane to be made up (ie when you told that hot guy in your store that he needed a hand job). haha.

Anonymous said...

i'm totally doing the snorting pepper thing with my nephew now.

genius mr.mcblogger

Anonymous said...

Bahahaha! I forgot about Troop Beverly Hills, my sister and I used to watch that every weekend! Classic!

toppe said...

this is kind of unrelated, but this thanksgiving i went out of town to visit my boyfriends family. and since it was only a short trip, i packed all my things into my sorr about the bag bag.

his brother, upon seeing my bag, was like "um... isn't that supposed to say sorry? your bad is missing its y". and i, totally excited to get him to be a new blog reader, RAMBLED AND RAMBLED, awkwardly and with no direction, trying to explain the joke. i then realized that my lack of story-telling abilities would make the joke not funny, so i should just tell him how funny you are and that its a blog he needs to read. but THEN i got rambly again when mentioning the jagerball and i totally lost him.

SO. here's my question. for meg or chris or any readers in general. when someone questions the sorr about the bag bag, what is a quick, painless, non awkward way to get someone to check out the blog and see for themselves?

and ps - this post cracked me up and i want you to give both of your parents a big hug for me. and becca too. (that best friend crush from high school may or may not still goin strong)

Casey said...

Aw, I thought Jocelyn's comment was funny when I saw it last week, and it sent me down the rabbit hole of finding Troop Beverly Hills clips online, because it was my favorite childhood movie. I didn't think she was accusing you of anything, Meg, but it's hard to tell nowadays with so many haters hatin'. Anonymously, most times. Stupid f*cks.

Anyway... sincere, genuine question: are you planning to produce any more sorr about the bag bags, or were they just a limited edition thing? I really want one, but for some reason missed the boat the first time around... Sorr.

Kate said...

Oh. My. God.
I've had the same paranoid worry about not being real/being in the Matrix since I was like six years old.
It warmed my heart to know I'm not the only weirdo who worries about such things.

Sara said...

First of all, I totally youtube'd this exact same video when i saw that commenter's post because WHO DOESN'T LOVE COOKIE TIME?! Little mini tina turner sassin out some cookie sales.

Second of all, can we just talk about how racist we were in the 80's?? Just take a look at the hispanic housekeeper in the background...what do they give her to dance her precious little heart out? MARACAS. Because that's the only instrument her people can play.

Sarah said...

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for bringing this little slice of my childhood back.

In a nostalgic frenzy, I IMDb'd the movie's cast. Did you know that the actress who played Hannah (Phyllis Nefler's daughter) is the lead singer of Rilo Kiley??? Mindfuck.

Anonymous said...

All the time people will come up to me, motion toward my "Sorr' about the bag" bag and tell me how cute it is. But they've never heard of the blog! My question is not how to explain it, but why am I surrounded by people who don't think it's weird to leave the "y" off of sorry?

Jen said...

Ever since Men in Black, I worry that we are all living in an alien's marble....

leberet said...

speaking of "the and", i inadvertently taught my two year old to say it. and now at the end of every book at bedtime she shouts THE AND! and i think of you (lovingly).

Kerry said...

loved the post.

random question -- what ever happened to queer abby and will we ever see her again?!

Ali said...

Wonderful post, I see where Meg gets her humor. (Mother McBlogger should be featured more often!)

And Jocelyn, that comments wins everything.

Unknown said...


Anonymous said...

You made a Buffy reference and totally made me love you even more.

Anonymous said...

I also hated Dawn and love the Buffy reference

Lia said...

Dear Meg, I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you are amazing. I just snorted aloud twice in class reading this post. Chin up, dear. At least your aren't in Civil Procedure 2.

Allison said...


Allison said...

PS Ever since seeing The Truman Show in 1998, I've been 100% convinced that my life is a TV show and all you ass holes are just WATCHIN' and a'LAUGHIN'. Which, Meg, makes you, as one of my friends, quite an actor. Or should I say liar? I bring it up every time I go home to visit my parents, and my dad assures me that this is untrue, but I just yell "DON'T LIE TO ME, DAD. IF THAT'S EVEN YOUR REAL NAME. HOW MUCH ARE THEY PAYING YOU, HUH??" and run to my room crying and looking sadly into where I think the hidden cameras might be.

PPS Where the HELL were you the other night? Was your no-show part of my Truman storyline to create drama and angst?

Kristel said...

Do you know who else is a real person?

Kevin Yang.

Vo said...


Anonymous said...

Спасибо понравилось ! Thanks !

Anonymous said...

Thanks за материалы! :)
Respect www.2birds1blog.com

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