The Official Rowland Family List of Good Vampire Movies

Truths that I will expand upon later:

1.) I'm sorry to disappear after my big Jerry McGuire mission statement/freak out, but I broke my hand. In half. One half is currently in the kitchen, the other half is in Delaware. Sucks. How did I break my hand? There's a story. There's always a story. This story, specifically, involves Ren Fest, alcohol, a whole lot of self-loathing, and tripping over my own boot. Will I tell you the story? I think I have to. But I'm not ready. I'm not emotionally there yet. I will be some day. That day is just not today.

2.) These painkillers are doing fuck-all and I keep being like, "Oh, well I'll just take one more!" And then I lose track of what number I'm on and remember that's how Heath Ledger died and completely freak myself out.

3.) Speaking of freaking myself out, I've been doing some research on the old Google and have fully convinced myself that I'm dying of a bleeding ulcer.

4.) I'm speaking at Hood College this afternoon and I don't have any clean pants. Just some food for thought.

5.) I am fascinated by this review of our book.

6.) My mom told me yesterday that I have the responsibility of a newt, which frankly is just adorable imagery. Fail on your part, madam. Fail.

7.) Happy Halloween! To get everyone in the Halloween mood, I thought I'd share with you today The Official Rowland Family List of Good Vampire Movies. My family enjoys five things in this world: food, alcohol, Mystery Science Theater 3000, Evie, and vampire movies. (Actually Becca doesn't enjoy Evie and Evie doesn't enjoy Becca and watching their genuinely icy interactions is never not entertaining, but I'm counting it anyway.) My dad in particular has strong emotions about vampire movies, so I sat down with him and my mom last week and we talked about vampires and what makes a Good Vampire Movie.

The first thing my dad wanted me to clarify in this post is that vampire movies exist on a spectrum that goes all the way from vampire-light movies like the Twilight series (quote my dad: "They just emo-ed vampires to death. [Looks wistfully off into the distance] They didn't even need a stake..."), to ultra-gory glorified zombie movies (30 Days of Night), to the very specific and very real sub-genre of lesbian vampire porn. Yes, these movies have vampires in them and sure, some of them might not even be that bad, but they're not Good Vampire Movies. So what makes a Good Vampire Movie? According to my dad, a Good Vampire Movie needs to have the following:

- Sexual tension
- Atmosphere
- Good-looking women
- Humor (Although, apparently it can't be "too funny" and nobody is quite sure where the "too funny" line is drawn. Love at First Bite is a genuine source of contention between my parents. My dad classifies it as "too funny" whereas my mom refers to it as, "Oh, you mean the funniest vampire movie ever made? With my best friend, George Hamilton?"...It's a gray area.)
- Style

The second thing my dad wanted me to clarify is that there are three basic vampire movies you need to see for your own vampire movie education, but, again, they're not necessarily Good Vampire Movies. They're building blocks on the way to Good Vampire Movies. They're the 100-level classes of Good Vampire Movies:

- Nosferatu, 1922. "It's a silent movie with Nazi undertones, so...that's kind of uncomfortable, but it's also one of the most creepy Dracula movies of all time."

- Vampyr, 1932. "It's a Danish movie and is ALL atmosphere. Very little plot, but, again, it helps you understand the atmosphere of vampire movies."

- Dracula, 1931. "This is the Dracula with Bela Lugosi and it introduces sex to vampire movies, but it's a little slow-moving. If you played it at Meg's Fall Fun Day, when you turned on the lights at the end, half of the audience would be gone and the other half would be asleep. But that's how you start. If you watch those three, you'll really get the Gestalt of vampire movies." (I later had to look that word up on Wikipedia. Kudos to my dad for going to film school and kudos to me for going to American University.)

So with that in mind, I present to you now The Official Rowland Family List of Good Vampire Movies (in no particular order):

- Bram Stoker's Dracula, 1992. "Directed by Francis Ford Coppola. Best backstory on Dracula. Very creepy. It's got style, it's got sex...very good movie."

- Lost Boys, 1987. "Best catchphrase: 'Sleep all day, party all night'"

- Andy Warhol's Dracula, 1974. My dad's only comment on this one was, "It was just...................so weird," and then he moved on. I though this was odd until I read the description—

Count Dracula knows that if he fails to drink a required amount of pure virgin's [pronounced "wirgin's"] blood, it's time to move into a permanent coffin. His assistant (Renfield?) suggests that the Count and he pick up his coffin and take a road trip to Italy, where families are known to be particularly religious, and therefore should be an excellent place to search for a virgin bride. They do, only to encounter a family with not one, but FOUR virgins, ready for marriage. The Count discovers one-by-one that the girls are not as pure as they say they are, meanwhile a handsome servant/Communist begins to observe strange behaviour from the girls who do spend the night with the Count. It's a race for Dracula to discover who's the real virgin, before he either dies from malnourishment or from the wooden stake of the Communist!

—and his reaction immediately made more sense.

- Let the Right One In, 2008/Let Me In, 2010. 3 out of 3 Rowlands agree: the American version is better. (AND I PROUDLY STAND UP NEXT TO YOU.)

- Suck, 2009. "A funny Canadian vampire movie. That says it all."

- Alucard, 1943. "It's Dracula backwards. Put it on the list for subtlety."

- Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 1992.

- Tales From the Crypt Presents: Bordello of Blood, 1996. "It's gory, but it's also an hour and a half of Dennis Miller making vampire quips, so—[shrugs, sips glass of scotch]"

- From Dusk Till Dawn, 1996. "The perfect vampire movie. It's got everything, plus the humans are scarier than the vampires. And it goes without saying it's also got Salma Hayek with a huge yellow snake between her legs."

- The Hunger, 1983. "Style. Ultra style. David Bowie as a vampire? Come on..."

- The Forsaken, 2001. "Pretty good. Takes place in the Southwest. It's the Tony Hillerman of vampire movies."

- Shadow of the Vampire, 2000.

- Vampire's Kiss, 1989. "You never quite figure out if he's actually a vampire or if he's just going psychotic. Really good movie. Nicholas Cage is great. Funny and unsettling—perfect. It's what a Good Vampire Movie should be.

- Innocent Blood, 1992. "This is the Animal House of vampire movies. Directed by John Landis. Very funny. The first five minutes of the film are worth the entire move if you're a guy." Why? "Full-frontal nudity." The entire 112 minutes are worth it if you're a Meg. "Why?" Don Rickles.

- Count Dracula, 1977 BBC miniseries with Louis Jourdan. When this was put on the table, my parents just went back and forth saying "INCREDIBLY SEXY", "VERY SEXY", "THAT'S A SEXY ONE" and I felt extremely uncomfortable.

- Dracula, 2004: "It's got a lot of style and some very good lines."

- Vampire Vixens from Venus, 2004: "Meh. It gets a point just for being so alliterate."

- Interview with the Vampire, 1994. "It's the battle between cool vampire Tom Cruise vs. emo vampire Brad Pitt. And child porn vampire Kirsten Dunst. A lot of style. Great cast. Very atmospheric. Very stylish. Perfect."

Plus, these just look intriguing:

Near Dark
Vampire Dentist
G-String Vampires
Ankle Biters (It's about a town taken over by a rare breed of dwarf vampire. I mean...)
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter ("For the history buff in you!")
Ghoul's Gone Wild
Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter
Muffy the Vampire Slayer

My dad doesn't interact much with 2b1b readers (you know, when he's not walking around our release party signing people's books...), but he genuinely wants to know what vampire movies you guys like. So, what vampire movies do you guys like? Write it down, slip it to me in homeroom, and I'll give it to my dad during English. LYLAS AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!1!


Thoughts I Couldn't Flesh Out Into Full Entries

- I ran across this while perusing fuckyeahtattoos the other day:

...Look, I'm not trying to seem insensitive here, but there's just something so hilarious? ironic about paying someone to permanently scar you by dragging an ink-filled needle across your skin to further self injury awareness. It's like going on a hunger strike to battle anorexia. Or organizing a fight club against domestic violence. Or renting out a That's Amore! for a night and turning it into a full-blown Roman vomitorium to end bulimia. It just makes me laugh is an interesting choice.

- Remember the 90210 episode where Steve decides to try out his stand-up chops at comedy night at the After Dark, bombs, panics, and ends up stealing a routine from Richard Belzer and it's this big morality lesson about how you should always tell your girlfriend the truth and never steal from Richard Belzer? .........................................................Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry. There's no punchline here. I just think it's completely absurd that that was actually a plotline on 90210.

- "I still really want to see a Christian foam party"- Andrew, October 14, 2011. It just seemed too funny to waste on Twitter. Sorry.

- Alia Shawkat's overacting in Drew Barrymore's Best Coast music video extravaganza "Crazy For You" is one of the most magical things I've ever seen in my entire life. (4:45)

Sometimes when I come back from the gym out of breath, I throw on my doorknocker earrings and a denim jacket and walk around my bathroom delivering that monologue to myself in the mirror. Kind of like how when I get bored emptying the dishwasher, I make all of my movements really big and dramatically slam dishes down in frustration and pretend I'm the piano player in The Style Council's video for "Shout It to the Top".

It passes the time. Either way, Night Creepers 4 lyfe.

- I listened to the unedited version of "Guilty Conscious" the other day for the first time in a while and it was startling.

- Somebody from Hurricane, West Virginia hacked into my Facebook account last Wednesday at 2:38 in the afternoon. The story here is obviously that there's a Hurricane, West Virginia. And that it was recognized for Outstanding Drinking Water Performance in 2010 and has one of the oldest barbershops in America. Swear to fuckin' God.

- I wrote a tweet last Friday about an incredibly mediocre sandwich I was eating at the time and got this in response:

You know what? I resent that. Because I'm fairly confident that they have sandwiches in the third world and the law of averages tells us that some of them have to be mediocre. So suck it, Angie.

- It's T.G.I. Hagman!


And it really is T.G.I. Hagman. I'm not jumping the gun and dooming a man to months of radiation therapy this time. PROOF:

(That was a very meta experience for me. Check it out:

Let's go one more level.

It's like being trapped in a really mediocre Escher drawing.) As of 1:22am on October 21, 2011 (FOR REALZ, FOR REALZ), Larry Hagman is...alive! And I would sell my soul to the Devil to keep it that way.

Alright, that's going to do it for us this week. Have a great weekend and if you're going to the Maryland Renaissance Festival this Saturday—SEE YOU THERE. (!!!1) Buh bye.


Yesterday afternoon was extremely eventful:

1.) A homeless woman on a D2 bus explained both sides of the Occupy Wall Street protests to me and while getting into this conversation was in no way my idea, I'm not trying to front like it wasn't extremely helpful.

2.) I was taking the D2 from McPherson Square to Connecticut and 20th and get my eyebrows threaded, but I was so caught up in this woman's surprisingly coherent and helpful explanation of the protests that I completely missed my stop and had to get off at Connecticut and S. While hoofing it back to the other side of the circle, I totally crossed paths with THE HOT DILF-Y WAITER FROM SETTE. For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter (and I don't know why you wouldn't, as I clearly tweet about ~*BoYz, bOyZ, BOyZ!!!*~), I have a bit of a thing for one of the waiters at Sette Osteria. It's not creepy, it's not desperate, I just want to have semi-rough sex with him and I'm relying solely on the power of the Internet to make it happen. It's normal. Steve Jobs is dead. It's 2011—anything's possible.

I go out to dinner with my parents every other week or so and we typically either go to James Hoban's or Sette. This means that I see hot DILF-y waiter quite frequently, and very much in a context where I'm stuffing fried seafood into my face and sitting directly next to my father. Which is uncomfortable, to say the least. What's even more odd to me is that we're always there when he's working, yet he's never our actual waiter. (Which actually might be a good thing because I'd probably end up being like, "Oh, I'll just have a small salad and I don't have HPV, thanks!") (Although, in this day and age, I can't help but feel like that's quite the dowry...)

When I saw HDW across the street, so many things went through my mind in a fraction of a second. In order: "Shit. That guy's hot." —> "Why does he look so familiar...?" —> "Christ, did we hook up?" —> "HA HA! It's the hot DILF-y waiter from Sette!" —> "God, why did you insist on not showering today and wearing that dress with the salad dressing stain near the crotch because 'who's looking that closely?'" —> "I should tweet this." —> "No, loser, don't tweet this." —> "Blog this!"

This means that as I locked eyes with HDW, my face did the following Superbowl Shuffle of awkwardness: slight smile, single raise of eyebrow —> pug-like head tilt and extremely country "HUH??" facial expression —> heart drops into asshole, might vomit --> laughs out loud like an insane person —> hangs head in shame and moves purse over crotch —> eyes light up —> head goes back down —> TO THE BLOGMOBILE! 

But in a fraction of a second. I wear my heart on my sleeve. And my vagina on my Twitter.

3.) Later as I was walking down 19th street, a hot (yet significantly less Piven-esque) guy starting walking towards me in the opposite direction and we kind of gave each other the old once-over. As I started to go up the steps to Dupont Threading, he stopped me. 

"Excuse me," he said, as we obviously fell in love and I became pregnant with his seed, "But I've always wanted to know—what's threading?"

"Oh. Uh. It's an Indian method of—deep, deep sigh—hair removal." He then did the little you take care now! hand wave and said, "Hair removal. Got it," and walked away. Quickly. I don't know. It was humbling.

4.) This didn't happen yesterday, but speaking of constantly falling in love on the street, I was en route to a party on Q street last Friday night and got stuck walking behind a group of bro-looking guys who were probably in their early 30's. It was one of those irritating situations where you're awkwardly walking at the same rate as the person (or people) in front of you, but it's been a few blocks so you're starting to feel like a stalker, but if you speed up and pass them you know you won't be able to keep that rate up and you're just going to end up falling back behind them and appear even creepier...yes? No? Only me? Still boycotting Fitness First for their towel policy? Yes. Anyway, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation they were having about Hank Williams, Jr. and one of them brought up how he just wrote a new song to address the whole Obama/Nazi comment scandal. "Oh, really?" one of them asked sarcastically, "What was it, [sings] ARE YOU READY FOR SOME NEGROS?!" It took everything in my power not to laugh-out-loud, and in retrospect, I really wished I had. Because a.) you know if there's anything I love more than a bro in his early 30's, it's a receding hairline. And if there's anything I love more than a receding hairline, it's a lisp. And b.) I just appreciate anybody who has the chutzpah to sing a joke of that magnitude on a crowded street on a Friday night without any apologies. I was extremely tempted to write a Craigslist missed connection but decided not to when I realized it would essentially be: "YOU WERE THE GUY SINGING ABOUT NEGROS ON Q STREET FRIDAY NIGHT, I WAS THE BIG-TITTED GIRL BEHIND YOU WHO DIDN'T HAVE THE STAMINA TO WALK SLIGHTLY FASTER AND PASS YOU. WAS IT JUST ME, OR DID I FEEL A CONNECTION?!?!" Sigh. The one that got away...

5.) At a certain point yesterday afternoon I got really nauseous and my lower back started to hurt, so I obviously convinced myself that my kidneys were shutting down and completely freaked myself out. I'm fairly certain that I just had a bad cheesesteak, but I wouldn't say I'm out of the woods yet.

So...that was my Wednesday afternoon. What adventures will today hold?? I shudder to think.


Putting the "HA" in "hard sell". (Or not, as the case may be.)

I just got a box of our new book, Brainwashing for Beginners, and I only have one thing to say about it: poor, poor Brainwashing. It never stood a chance. It's the Jan Brady to The Misanthrope's Guide to Life's Marsha. Which isn't to say it's bad. It's actually really, really funny. I know this because I just read it for the first time. I don't know why, but I was completely prepared to crack it open and be like, "Oh God, this is B-level material...This is so embarrassing." But it's not at all. I might even like it better than Misanthrope's. YEAH, I SAID IT. And I'm 98% sure I meant it. I think I expected it to suck because the actual process of writing it sucked. When I think back to writing it, all I can think of is computers breaking and strep throat and needing extensions on deadlines and feeling like failures for needing said extensions and that sty I randomly developed halfway through the project (?) and the earthquake in Japan I'm sure our writing somehow caused and the 5,500 words it ended up being over and bleh, whereas writing Misanthrope's was like a great big pizza party. If I could summarize writing each book in a single youtube clip, they would be the following:

Writing Misanthrope's Guide to Life:

Writing Brainwashing for Beginners:

But now that we're five months removed from the entire situation, I feel like I can finally appreciate the finished product. And I do. And I feel badly that I didn't before. And I want to take its little hand in mine and tell it, "I'm sorry I didn't say 'I love you' enough when you were growing up. Because I did. I was just too busy fighting my own demons to tell you and it was my fault. MY FAULT. So please accept this gift Mr. VanVonderen is offering you today because there's a room here full of people who love you like crazy, but we feel like we're losin' ya here and I just want my little girl back." I don't know. I've been watching a fair amount of Intervention on Netflix recently and I'm not offering any apologies for it. When Candy Finnigan cries......weoifjwf. I have no words. It hits me in the gut. Knocks the wind right out of me. And she always does! Especially when children are involved because you know she was adopted and probably relates to their feeling of abandonment. How did we get here? What was I talking about? RIGHT, the book is actually good and you should buy it.

Truth be told, I feel really uncomfortable trying to sell this book to you because we're still so blatantly trying to sell the first, but at the same time, I do think it's a worthy purchase. Like our first book, it's an excellent bathroom read. I got an email from a reader the other day saying just that and hoping it didn't offend me, and honestly? I 100% get it and I'm right there with you. Although I kind of feel like an asshole keeping a copy of my own book in my bathroom because I'm worried people will interpret it as me being all, "What? OH, THAT? Mmmmyes, I wrote a book. Two in fact! Well actually three, but who's counting? Bwahaha. Mmmmyes. Tea?" (I don't know why I'm trying to serve people tea in the bathroom...) But it's not the case. Both books are just really easy to jump into and no matter where you land, you're guaranteed a laugh. I keep finding myself in the bathroom flipping through Misanthrope's to pass the time and like, 25 minutes later I'll still be sitting on the John reading it. Which is absurd because a.) I co-wrote it, so I've obviously read it before, b.) that's a genuinely long time to be in the bathroom, and c.) there's just something so shameful about laughing at your own material with your pants down around your ankles. You just feel so exposed.

To give you a little more information on the book, Brainwashing is essentially our guide to manipulating people into doing what you want in everyday situations. It's the next level in Meg and Chris' School of Sociopathy and Witchcraft. Minus the Witchcraft. The book is comprised of 101 objectives (ranging from Get Upgraded to First Class to Convince Your New Husband You're a Virgin), which are broken down into ten chapters: Making Work Work For You (Manipulation Around the Office); Be The Mary, Not the Rhoda (Toward More Obedient Friends); Pavlov's Girlfriend (Sex and Relationships in a Brave New World); How to Get a 4.0 at Symbionese State University (Mind Control at School); George Orwell, Obstetrician (Making a Mark on Your Child's Tabula Rasa); Free Drumsticks and Cheap Gas (Everyday Hypnosis); 72 Virgins, 99 Luftballoons, and Access to the Buffet (Brainwashing During Wartime); I'm Not Not God (Cults for Dummies); Thank You, Sir, May I Have Another? (Stockholm Syndrome and You); and 10.) Bluejeans and Coca-Cola (Deprogramming). Each objective then has 2-3 brainwashing techniques for how to accomplish it.

Like I said, I was all nervous when I started to read it, but then I saw that we refer to Nick Nolte as "Father Time's readheaded stepchild" within the first three sentences of the book and immediately felt better. I also forgot how incredibly Garry Shandling heavy it is and I am not mad about it. Not only is he the object of our dedication, we also have an entire objective based on the idea of trying to get the fictional murder-mystery series The Garry Shandling Mysteries back on the air. (Jeremy Piven is obviously his Watson-like sidekick.) I remember when we got the first round of edits back on the manuscript, there were two notes next to this objective. The first was from the copy editor saying, "I checkedthis is not a real show," and the second was our editor's response: "Not yet." Matthew Glazer. You get us. You get us so well and I love you for it.

I'm also still shocked that they let us keep objective #23 in: Get Your Friend to Experiment with You Sexually. I wrote this, without exaggeration, an hour before our second extension was up, and I did it as like a, "Well, they're obviously going to make us take this out, but fuck itit's something", and I can't tell you how much I respect Adams Media for letting it stay in. Especially since the third brainwashing technique is to "Tape Scissors All Over Your Walls and Hope She Gets the Hint". I mean...to you, sir. To Adams Media. I feel like the book actually benefits from the fact that we wrote the majority of it in an incredibly cracked-out, Hail Mary, what the fuck are we doing? state of mind. It gets weird. It feels like us.

So, if you have the money, I suggest you buy Brainwashing for Beginners. And if you already did, I hope you enjoy it. And if you're Garry Shandling, I hope you really, really enjoy it. And if you're Jeremy Piven, I hope you know how much I really, really, really enjoy you. Every night. To this picture:

And sometimes, when I want to feel like we're actively conversing, to this picture:

But mostly, when I want to laugh and imagine what it's like having you on top of me in sweatpants and a backwards cap, to this clip:

...This entire blog post has been a fucking disaster and I don't know how to end it in a way that isn't "Welp! I'm gonna go masturbate to Jeremy Piven now!", so I say we just embrace it. One more for the road:

God yes.



Good news! Dan negotiated the return of Towel from all the way from Dubai!

Apparently his opening line to Alex during negotiations was, "You do not want to go toe-to-toe in an insanity contest with Meg Rowland." I'm not entirely sure how to take that. It reminds me of the time the "right" way to slit your wrists came up at a dinner party and I was like, "Oh, I'm pretty sure you do it vertically." My friend Sarah then said, and I quote, "Yeah, I trust youYOU SEEM LIKE THE KIND OF GIRL WHO'D KNOW HOW TO KILL HERSELF." I gave her a single raise of the eyebrow and she was immediately like, "Wait...that didn't sound right. I didn't mean it like that!" But again, I don't really know how else I'm supposed to take that. At all. So in summary: my friends think I'm batshit crazy and a Venus Intuition away from suicide, but I'm glad Dan finally managed to talk some sense into Alex. Here's the deal: Friday afternoon, Alex and I will meet at Target in Columbia Heights where I will buy him a new, affordable towel. After that, we will go back to Alex's apartment—or his Fritzl cellar, as I call it—and we'll make the trade.

Nobody specified who gets final say on which towel I have to buy him, so I've decided to give Alex ten options. (Which, frankly, I think is more than generous considering I'm the victim in all of this.) He may chose from the following:

1.) The "Lanai" leopard print towel:
2.) This lovely and festive Hanukkah dishtowel:
3.) The "Peace Out" bath towel:
Of which Target.com customer "azhippiechick" says, "I purchased this for my granddaughter and she says it is far-out and groovy. The envy of all her cool friends." I mean, I'm obviously somewhat hesitant to buy him something that I'll only end up being jealous of, but hey—a deal's a deal.

4.) This moose wastebasket:
Which isn't a towel, but is nonetheless quite handsome.

5.) This Nazi towel I found on the Internet for the completely reasonable price of two-dollars:

6.) This genuinely adorable Buzz Lightyear hoodie towel:

7.) A specially embroidered Baptism towel:

(You may have to wait 2-3 weeks for that one, though...)

8.) This "Witch Parking—All others will be TOAD" towel:

I personally would go for this one, but you know me. I'm a sick pup. I've got that dark sense of humor.

9.) This uncomfortable tea towel I just found on etsy:

Because, you know, pussy hair.

10.) Or this Yoda bath towel that's perfect for the dyslexic Star Wars lover in you:

(And I know he's in there!)

So there you go, Alex! Pretty maids all in a row. Ten perfectly good, affordable towels that I'd be more than happy to buy for you. So which one's it gonna be, bud???


The Troubles

I just want to thank everyone for the incredible flood of support I got via blog comments, emails, and tweets after last Friday's post. And by last Friday's post, I'm of course referring to the news of Larry Hagman's cancer diagnosis. How do I feel? It's odd. At first I didn't feel anything. A wave of calm washed over me and it was like I was seeing clearly for the first time in years. There I was: actually staring face to face with my worst nightmare. I took its hand and we danced. It wrapped its massive hands around my waist and I pressed my chest against his and was confused by how I could hate something so much, yet yearn for it to hold me closer. To take me in its arms. To press its cheek against mine. To breathe in my scent and whisper, "It's going to be okay. I won't take him. I can't take him," before kissing me hard and deep.

Plus, I really wanted to tweet my support to Larry Hagman but he's not on Twitter, so that's some shit.

The sad truth of the matter is that I feel completely responsible for Mr. Hagman's diagnosis. I wrote last Friday's post early Thursday afternoon and sent it to my sister to get her feedback, but instead of writing "And this is where T.G.I. Hagman will go"...I actually wrote it. I wrote the T.G.I. Hagman. I filled out the date and said that he was alive. From Becca's feedback:
[...] Also, isn’t bad luck to assume that Larry Hagman is alive on Oct. 14? It’s still the 13th, anything could happen.
My response:
[...] And it was TOTALLY presumptuous of me to assume LH would be alive tomorrow and now I'm going to go vomit. I'm not posting it until tomorrow, so that's not jinxing it, right?!!?

I don’t know man, he is 90 or something old like that …


Sorry sorry, 80. He’ll be fine.
BUT HE'S NOT!!! He has cancer of the Hagman and it's all my fault because I wrote the 14th's T.G.I. Hagman on the 13th and said that we was fine!!! I don't know how I can live with myself. At least I have Towel to comfort me. OH, WAIT MINUTE—I DON'T.

If yo
u don't know the back-story of Towel, you can find it here. I'll pause and give you a moment to catch up.

Are we all on the same page? Good. So, yes, Towel. Towel has been living with me for almost exactly one year and it's been magical. And then Saturday happened—this year's Meg's Fall Fun Day. Meg's Fall Fun Day is a yearly autumnal tradition dating back to 2006 where everyone gathers at my apartment, we go get breakfast, and then I drive us all out to the orchard in Woodbine, Maryland where my family went when I was a kid. We pick apples, eat hot dogs and fritters, and buy pumpkins and cider. Then we go back to my apartment, bake a pie, eat delicious foods, drink cider and wine, and watch scary movies. It is, without a doubt, the best day of the year. This year's MFFD, however, was raped. RAPED by my supposed "best friend" Alex, who stole Towel from me. ON MEG'S FALL FUN DAY, of all days. Blasphemy! 

After everyone left on Saturday night, I did a few dishes and then went to the bathroom. As I stood at the sink washing my hands, the towel rack on the back of the door caught my eye in the reflection of the mirror and I suddenly realized what had happened. I ran to my phone and saw that I had a text waiting for me:

What transpired next was the most intense, two-day text message conversation I have ever had with anyone. I present that conversation to you now, unedited and in its fully glory.

Alex: Almost one year later, I declare victory

Meg: I am literally speechless.

Alex: I play a long game

Meg: If you think I won't release your email on the blog and bombard you with reader harassment, you are DEAD wrong.

I expect Towel to be on the back of my bathroom door by 5pm tomorrow, or you've got a WORLD of hurt coming your way.

I dunno, I have a lot of hot yoga to do tomorrow...

If you touch a single hair on Towel's head with even ONE of your balls, I will make you pay.

You have 17 hours. Enjoy them.

We made it home safely.

16.5 hours.

Why don't I keep Towel until next MFFD, then we'll switch?

I don't negotiate with fiber terrorists.

If anyone is the fiber terrorist in this situation, it's you

16.5 and I leak your email.

Bring it on

Those are bold words, sir.

(slash don't actually do that)

October 16, 2011 7:48 PM

It's past 5 o'lock and Towel hasn't been returned. Interesting decision on your part.

Oh sorry. I've just been showering all day.

Over, and over again.


Please don't. You may admonish me on twitter but I don't want my email out there since it's my full name.

Well, return Towel and that will be a non-issue.

People do crazy things when they lose the one they love. Craaaazy things.

You do understand that you do not own and have no legal right to Towel, right?

There is a power greater than your law—ANGER.

You know what's a really great smell early on a Sunday morning? Fresh laundry

You've made your choice. Time to suffer the consequences.

You had good times with Towel. Time to move on. I'll give him back next MFFD.

Fuck that noise! This isn't the Parent Trap! Towel and I have an emotional connection that you two never had and you don't deserve him!

He's mine!

Not anymore!

Since when? Since you took him unlawfully last year?

You know who you are? You're the biological mother who had him when you were 16 and gave him up because you were addicted to meth and couldn't raise him and I'm the adopted mother who gave him a good home and raised him like he was one of my own and put him through college and walked him down the aisle, and now that you've kicked your habit and found Jesus, you suddenly want a relationship with him. Well fuck that, hillbilly.

You'll still get to see him on holidays.

He doesn't even know who you are anymore! He's scared and alone and I won't let this happen.

Would it make you feel better that all the way home last night I kept looking behind me, half expecting to see you charging down 19th street with a pick axe?

No! That makes me feel like a failure because I didn't notice immediately and don't have a pick axe!

Don't sweat it. I actually did need another towel

OK, what if we do a trade: that pool towel you left here eons ago for Towel towel.

Do you not have any towels of your own?

(Speaking of the pool towel, I didn't even bring up that you have a history of reckless towel abandonment...)


Yeah, but none that I love like Towel! We have a history! We're both F-list internet celebrities! We understand each other!

You're putting up a remarkable fight for something that isn't yours.

Wow, that's what Hitler said to the Jews...

Re: the right to exist.

I'm not going to kill Towel. I'm just going to have him dry me off after showers.

I know Towel. That WILL kill him.

He was doing it long before you knew him.

We don't talk about those days.

Look, you left your gallon of cider here and bag of mini pumpkins. If I don't get him back, I'll drink the entire gallon and do Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred with the pumpkins down my pants.

(Not in that order)

So you're going to steal more from me if you don't get the first thing back you stole from me?

I didn't steal, I fulfilled my destiny.

And yes.

So you'd say you're holding those things hostage?

No. I'm just saying I'm thirsty and like to work out with gourds down my pants. So act fast.

Holding hostages and making demands. Now who's the terrorist?


Don't be dramatic.

Don't make me be dramatic.

I'm not doing anything to you!

I'm eating salty, salty chips and feeling kind of fat...I can't think of a few ways to fix this...

Simmer down

That's suggestive.

I know. Especially when you think about doing it with a bag of pumpkins down your pants and a belly full of free cider.

If you would like to have a rational, adult conversation about whether or not you'll ever see this towel again, you'll remove my pumpkins from your pants and keep the cap on that gallon of cider.

The time for talk is over. It's time for action.

Fuck that feels good...

You can perform the action of taking pumpkins out of your pants and not drinking cider.

And I will. If, and only if, Towel is returned to me.

We'll see

Think fast. You're down a pumpkin.

I'm pretty sure you can get it back if I jump up and down and cough, though...

This is by far the most absurd conversation I've ever had.

Well, you know how to end it

And that was our last communiqué. You know the worst part of it all? Hat's batteries are dead. Sigh.

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