LOLOLZZzo NO POST MONDAY SORR ABOUT THE BAG

Christ on a croissant. Allow me to share with you a text I got from Allison this afternoon while I was at work:

No Post Monday. Your father and I aren't mad. We're disappointed.

Sigh. Now allow me to share with you a gchat conversation two readers from Texas had and sent me:

Kate: it drives me nuts that meg never posts on mondays anymore
and EVERY tuesday is like LOLOLZZzo NO POST MONDAY SORR ABOUT THE BAG
and im like
.... that doesn't make up for it, meg.
that. doesnt. make. up. for. it.
Sent at 3:24 PM on Monday
Sarah: I KNOW
its annoying
its like I NEED THIS
it's not a game at this desk
Kate: hahaha
Sarah: what is she doing mondays if shes unemployed?
Kate: she works retail
and she drinks sunday nights
so she barely has time to put on pants mondays when she wakes up at 10am for her 11am shift
ugh, meg.
i feel like i know you
and yet, i dont.
Sarah: its so creepy yet so necessary
maybe we should send her this convo

And then they did. And I'M SORRY, YOU GUYS! I'm sorry. I can't even tell you how much No Post Mondays stress me out. I kept remembering that I didn't post anything this morning at work today and feeling all guilty and stressed out like I forgot my kid at daycare or something. Which is absurd because this is just a blog. But, you know, it's more to me and I feel guilty.

I don't even have a good excuse for not blogging yesterday. I got home from work Sunday night and like the responsible young blogger I am (or strive to be), I curled up on the couch with a glass of wine, a very much alive and somewhat kickin' Cella and Dr. Reuben's Everything You Always Wanted to Know... with every intention of writing a Q&A post for Monday morning. And then I passed out AN single page in. I woke up five hours later at 2:30 in the morning curled up in a ball on the couch, pantsless, TV still on, spooning my laptop with mascara all over my face. It was pretty much the closest I've come to having sex since I made consensual love to a box of Thin Mints last Thursday.

Despite being half asleep and in the midst of nap afterglow (nafterglow, if you will,) I vowed that I would get something—anything—up on the blog to avoid yet another No Post Monday. So I made a list of everything that's going on in my life at the moment. And the list went as such:

- I had a really satisfying salad for dinner last night.

And that concluded the list. I'm not kidding. I very seriously wrote that sentence, blanked on anything else to write and thought, "Welp! That's the ballgame. This is my life. Aaaaaaaand hells bell's it's depressing. Good night and god speed."

But I refuse to believe that that's the only noteworthy thing in my life right now. That I had a satisfying salad for dinner. (Although it's worth noting that it really was a satisfying salad. So much so that I had again for dinner tonight. And some soup. Because it was a rainy, lazy, cozy soup kind of a day. OH MY FUCKING GOD, DO YOU SEE?! DO YOU SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?!) No! I'm not letting this happen. I will not talk about depression, or soup, or salad, or soup and salad combo meals, or anything else that will make me sound like a living, breathing Cathy comic. Today I'm going to talk about other things. This, my friends, IS WHAT'S GOING ON.


- UM. Reagan, a 2b1b reader from Houston sent me this tank top the other day:


Oh I'm sorry, Reagan. Did I just go gay for you? Yep. Sure did. So, what are you doing this weekend? ME!? Hehehehe, oh MY! You bring the flannel; I'll bring the power tools.

(Side note: I really want to add a merch store to the blog, specifically because I want to create an official "sorr about the bag" tote bag and proudly sport it around town on a daily basis. If anyone knows anything about how to set up a merch store on a blog, hit a bitch up: meg@2birds1blog.com. Especially because if I get a store up and running, it might solve my next problem...)

- I need $500 and Adderall. Fast. I realize this couldn't sound sketchier if a one-armed Russian drug dealing sailor was involved, but I swear both are for legit purposes. I think I may have solved my laptop problem! Lara's going off to grad school in the fall (THAT'S RIGHT! My design protégé got accepted into Parson's web design masters program, DID YOURS?! Oh. He did? Well. Good for him. He should talk to Lara because she's talented and easy on the eyes. Oh, and he's newly single? Welp. I'm mighty glad we had this conversation.) and needs to get a new computer before she goes. She dropped by the store tonight and informed me that she's going to sell her old (sexy) laptop (which just got a new battery and comes with CS3!) for $500 and I shotgunned that thing so fast my name tag spun. Unfortunately Lara wasn't quite as excited. She kind of awkwardly looked at the ground, shifted her eyes back and forth and asked, "Uhhh...Meg...no offense, but do you have $500?" Well, no, not in the technical sense, but I sure as shit can find a way to get it!

So, what am I good at? Drinking, making charmingly awkward conversation and occasionally baking things. Thus, for a nominal fee, I will come to your apartment with a bottle of wine and bake you something. Perhaps a poon cake. It's kind of my specialty. What's the nominal fee? In the words of the church, "give what you can." And then a few bucks more because things are touch and go. Come on! It's like a bake sale that comes to you! It's a lazy man's wet dream! Invite some friends over! We'll make it a night! (PS: those friends should also give what they can. God bless.)

Oh, and the Adderall is just because I have ADD and need it, but can't afford to go see a psychiatrist anymore. Poverty is mighty inconveniencing. I'm rationing out my remaining anit-depressants like meat in wartime.

Now, I don't know how "legal" this is, but I have a request. Is the request to mail me any spare Adderall you may have lying around your house? No. No, it's not. But it's also not not to mail me any spare Adderall you may have lying around your house, if you catch my drift. And if say a spare painkiller found it's way in there too? Well, I certainly wouldn't be mad. THAAAANX!

- Becca recently asked me to start thinking about what kind of bridesmaid dress I would want to wear in her wedding. She's pretty sure she wants her bridal party to be in gray, but since I'm the Maid of Honor, mine gets to be a little bit different. When she told me this, I obviously heard, "you can wear whatever you want," and immediately knew the perfect dress—the dress that Alexis Carrington/Colby/Dexter/Rowan wears to Steven and Sammy Jo's engagement party in the season 2 episode appropriately titled, "The Party."

when Becca was over the other week, I decided it was a good time to inform her that I had found the perfect Maid of Honor dress for her wedding. "Awesome! Let's see it!" she said. So I juiced up the old DVD player, popped in "The Party" and paused it on the following still:


She seemed to not think it was an option. Although, to be fair, I failed to mention that the mink stole and gold seashell clutch are optional. That might make a difference.

Flash forward to yesterday when Ex Co-Blogger Eddie sent me a link to a dress that she said I should buy because a.) it looks like Dynasty threw up all over it and b.) it would make my boobs look good:


Oh, I'M sorry. Is that not just a modest version of my dream Dynasty dress?! IT'S PERFECT! I mean, gray is sophisticated and elegant and all, but gold lamé? Gold lamé is like surviving a heinous car crash, plunging into a vat of ice-cold water or getting kicked in the groin—it reminds you that you're alive. If there's any fabric more appropriate for a wedding, I'd like to know what it is. Soooo...fingers crossed she goes for that.

- What does it say about me that I legitimately almost peed my pants laughing the first time I saw this video?

And keep in mind that a large part of the near urination factor was due to the kid's blood-curdling screams. Not to mention the fact that right it can get any funnier, a rogue donkey scampers across the shot. I mean, this is pretty much what dreams are made of. I've very seriously had this video open in it's own tab for like, four days straight now and I can't imagine living in a world where I close it. Hell should be nice...

- I was having dinner with my parents last weekend and we somehow started talking about Project Runway. During this conversation, my dad informed me that it is his ultimate dream for me to go on Project Runway and make it to the final 3. Not because I want, or have ever wanted to be a fashion designer, mind you, but because that means my dad would get to meet and subsequently hug Tim Gunn during the home visit episode. "I don't know," my dad explained, "A hug from Tim Gunn seems like it would be so cathartic. Like everything would be OK. He just seems like such a nice guy!"

...From now on, whenever people get weirded out by the fact that I have tattoos dedicated to my parents, this is the moment I'm going to refer them to. I just feel like it might clear things up a bit.

- In case you didn't know, I'm on the Twitter. Fellow Twitter user and 2b1b reader @toastedzen tweeted me the following this past Friday night:

toastedzen @2birds1blog I would give just about anything to hang out with you. Hell, to DATE you. I am in love!

"Well that's awfully nice of you, sir," I thought to myself, before tweeting "done and DONE!" back for good measure.

The next morning, he tweeted this:

toastedzen @2birds1blog FYI I have no idea how much sake I had put back before I wrote that. Just in case, you know if it doesn't work out between us.

To which I joked, "what?? so we're NOT dating?!" And this is what I got back:

toastedzen @2birds1blog its not you, its me. really. umm... I just think we should be free to see other people. but we can still be friends.

OK, let me just get this straight: I'm getting dumped by fake boyfriends, these days? Before even meeting me? Is this really how far I've fallen? I'm not mad, mind you. I'm just asking. Clarifying, really. Because when you discover my lifeless body hanging from a shower rod, I don't want there to be any confusion as to what happened. I don't want any lingering theories out there that perhaps old Meg McBlogger David Carradine-ed herself. It was intentional. So we're all on the same page here? Good. Moving on.

- AH! WEIRD! So after writing that last thought, I went to the bathroom to wash my face and on my way back, grabbed the most recent issue of Cosmopolitan Becky has and brought it back to bed. I opened to the horoscope section and read mine:

Aries
The forecast: As Uranus makes its agitating debut in your sign, you're bound to unleash your grumpiness on all the wrong people. Sign up for a bad-mood-busting kickboxing class, pronto.

Work mode: Cashing in. Moneymaking Mercury settles past-due payments, and you'll enjoy a post-tax windfall.

Love life: A three-way planetary lineup could send hot prospects to singles. Meanwhile, the coupled-up Ram will finally start showing off her man at company events.

Power Day: 27th

First and foremost: HAHAHAHAHAHA! Uranus.

Secondly: HAHAHAHAHAHA! Three-way.

But come on! As much of a giant pile of horse shit that Cosmo is, that's a pretty creepy horoscope, right?? I'm grumpy and taking it out on the wrong people (you, via No Post Mondays) but my money problems will soon be solved (thanks to my new poon cake chef on-the-go business!) Thanks Cosmo! I never thought I'd say this, but you made me feel better about life. And don't worry, I won't forget to play with his balls.

Taking a Trip Down ADD/ADHD Lane

First and foremost— Wolfen: 2 severed thumbs up.



Do yourself a favor and Netflix it before Halloween. Plus! It has an unbelievable ratio of male to female full-frontal nudity. Specifically, a shit ton to none. So, I'm sorry and/or you're welcome. Mostly, you're welcome.

In other news, I started writing a blog post this morning at approximately 9:15 about some..."Unpleasantness," shall we say, that occurred last week at hot yoga when I got distracted by a stack of improperly folded pamphlets sitting on my desk. Boss #2 let me leave a little early last Friday as long as I printed 50 sales pamphlets and folded them before I left. Obviously wanting to get the fuck up out of here as soon as humanly possible, I folded them a bit haphazardly. In the harsh light of Monday morning, however, I found my sloppy level of folding to be completely unacceptable. I decided I couldn't concentrate on blogging until I printed 50 new pamphlets and folded them properly. Mid re-folding, I remembered a dream I had last night in which Allison (of looks like Boss #1 minus 20 years fame) made a hee-larious cameo. I decided I couldn't concentrate on my re-folding duties until I emailed Allison about my dream. Three minutes later, I abandoned that email to Wikipedia Hall & Oates. Why? I don't really know. I've had "Private Eyes" stuck in my head all morning and it just felt like the right thing to do. This obviously led to a long string of Wikipedia article hopping and two hours later, I realized I have a stack of 50 unfolded pamphlets, a half-written email and no blog post to show for my morning. (But an impressive new knowledge of Hall & Oates!)

This gots me a-thinkin'...I genuinely think I have ADD and/or it's hyper-active cousin ADHD. And truthfully, I've always thought this. I remember confronting my mom in high school that I thought I had ADD and she was like, "Well. If you're that concerned, just go get tested" and I was all, "FINE! MAYBE I WILL!" and then got distracted by the crinkling noise of a plastic bag and never did anything about it. Ever. So here we are, six years later, and I'm still undiagnosed. But! This morning I took a break from Wikipedia-hopping and found an online Adult ADHD Screening Quiz! I enjoyed taking this quiz because it felt like a "Remember When..." flashback episode of a sitcom. Almost every question reminded me of a blog post. Check it out:

1. Do you have a sense of underachievement, of not meeting your goals, regardless of how much you have actually accomplished?

[I mean, my sense of underachievement is sort of the cornerstone of this entire blog. Just insert any given blog post here.]

2. I find it difficult to read written material unless it is very interesting or very easy.

[I swear to god, I couldn't even get through reading the intro of this test. I made it to "This is a screening examination for adult ADD. It is not a diagnostic test. Scores over 70 are associated with..." gave up and proceeded directly to the test.]

3. Especially in groups, I find it hard to stay focused on what is being said in conversations.

"Even when I'm out with friends, I find myself zoning out and quietly getting worked up thinking about this shit to the point of randomly exploding with, "I'M GONNA DIE ALONE IN AN OFFICE CHAIR AND THE MOST MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIP I HAVE IS WITH THE FEDEX GUY AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW HIS NAME!!!!!" Which usually has nothing to do with the conversation going on around me. So that's awkward."

— "Best. Idea. Ever?" 5/28/09

4. I have a quick temper...a short fuse.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD. I FUCKING HATE THE INTERNET AND I HATE MY COMPUTER AND I HATE BOSS #2 AND THERE'S A PINCHED NERVE IN MY NECK THAT I JUST EXACERBATED WITH ALL OF THE CRAWLING AROUND ON MY HANDS AND KNEES I JUST DID TO REPEATEDLY PLUG AND UNPLUG MY COMPUTER 5,000 TIMES TO TRY TO FIX THIS WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT 1991 DELL COMPUTER THAT I'VE BEEN GRACED WITH AND TECH PEOPLE ARE THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE SECOND ONLY TO BOSS #2 AND HERE'S YOUR GOD DAMN DRINKING GAME. FINALLY. SIX FUCKING HOURS LATER. AND YES I DID FORGET TO TAKE MY MEDS THIS MORNING, AS I HAVE FOR THE PAST THREE DAYS AND YES RAGE IS A SIDE EFFECT OF WITHDRAWAL, AND YES THIS DOES EXPLAIN WHY I'M OVERREACTING AND TYPING IN CAPS BUT WHATEVS. OK? GOOD. LET'S MOVE ON. HERE. DRINK."

— "Drinking Game Friday Remembers John Hughes" 8/07/2009

6. I say things without thinking, and later regret having said them.

"I awkwardly outed Andrew to our entire comm class today. We were sitting in class at the conference table and Andrew informed everyone that the British Navy is apparently trying to recruit gay men. So I slapped Andrew on the back and said, "HAHA! Looks like you're going to sea Andrew!" He was not thrilled."

— "An Anotated Anthology of Award" 1/08/2009

7. I make quick decisions without thinking enough about their possible bad results.

"And then I smoked a blunt with my newfound thugalicious friends. Soon my friends caught up and we boarded our subway home. It turns out that copious amounts of various alcohols, found drugs, and a rocking subway car do not make for a good time. It was at Smith and 9th street that I calmly exited the train and threw up in a well-placed trashcan. Thank you MTA."

— "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" 12/13/2007

8. My relationships with people are made difficult by my tendency to talk first and think later.

"Well I'll make sure to wipe my mouth as I walk out."

That was my response. And WHAT. THE. FUCK?!

Why!?!?! Of all the things I could have said, WHY did I have to go with that?! I turned our innocent little game of office flirting into a hardcore pornographic awkward-fest. The second the words flew out of my mouth, I looked horrified. Disgusted and horrified. With my own actions. I couldn't believe I had just said that. I still can't believe I said that. I wonder if that's grounds for a sexual harassment suit. I'm going to be the first woman in history to have a construction worker sue her for sexual harassment."

— "Let's give 'em something to talk about..." 9/10/2009

9. My moods have highs and lows.

"Goin' through some shit. No post today. Turtle Rapes Shoe time."

— "That time I was too coked out to post" 9/28/2009

vs.

"Guess who's in an oddly good mood this morning? THIS GIRL! Why? BECAUSE IT'S OFFICIALLY PRE-HALLOWEEN SEASON! And we all know that Halloween is my FAVORITE HOLIDAY EVER!!!!1"

— "Check out the yabos on Drinking Game Friday..." 10/16/2009

10. I have trouble planning in what order to do a series of tasks or activities.

"This obviously led to a long string of Wikipedia article hopping and two hours later, I realized I have a stack of 50 unfolded pamphlets, a half-written email and no blog post to show for my morning. (But an impressive new knowledge of Hall & Oates!)"

— "Taking a Trip Down ADD/ADHD Lane" 10/19/2009

11. I easily become upset.

"I also had no idea I felt so passionately about Jon Heder. After my co-worker asked what's wrong I sort of just made inaudible moaning noises for a while before getting out, 'JON HEDER DIED IN A DRUNK DRIVING ACCIDENT! I THOUGHT HE WAS A MORMON!'"

— "Not so newsworthy BBC Wednesdays?" 10/15/2008

12. I seem to be thin skinned and many things upset me.

JKreids: Um Meg, you're starting to sound like a MEEK...
2birds1blog: You shut your whorish mouth. My love of Buffy is hip and ironic and I vowed to stop being mean to my co-workers. And I'm attractive. And I get regular haircuts.

— 10/16/09's Comment Board

13. I almost always am on the go.

[HAHAHAHAHA!...God no.]

"My office is located equidistant between a Caribou Coffee and a Starbucks, both being about two blocks away. I realize that doesn't sound like that far, but when you're right in the middle of a crucial episode of Dynasty and you're kind of sleepy and it's anyone's guess who stole Crystal's baby, it might as well be a mile away. Normally when I get "coffee lazy," I just complain to a few people via gchat, feel sorry for myself for a little bit and then work up the adrenaline needed to get up and walk the two blocks to Starbucks. And then everything's fine. Yesterday, however, was a horse of a different color."

— "The Craigslist Coffee Challenge" 7/30/2009

14. I am more comfortable when moving than when sitting still.

[Ok, so maybe "hyperactive" doesn't quite describe me...]

"And I will gladly be the fat kid who says out loud that I would rather move out of this city than have to wheeze my way up and down stopped metro stairs day in and day out just because Kriston Capps think it would make the city healthier. Because who are you, Mr. Capps, to decide how to make people healthier? You're like that office manager who only stocks the fridge with water because soda rots your teeth and wastes calories. I'm a grown-ass woman. Let me make my own health choices. If you health-rape me, I will blow my whistle."

— "First Ever Smug Pug Award!" 9/01/009

15. In conversations, I start to answer questions before the questions have been fully asked.

[Why did I have to read that question like 20 times for it to make sense?]

16. I usually work on more than one project at a time, and fail to finish many of them.

See: Drunken Monument Ghost Tour
See: Badminton League
See: J-Date Debate
See: I Need An Old Priest and a Young Priest: Psychic Healing in our Nation's Capitol
See: 50,000 people I've promised stickers to in the past month

17. There is a lot of "static" or "chatter" in my head.

"You know how certain people with Autism are “Idiot Savants” and are somewhat inept but can do one thing really well, a la Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man? What if there was an Idiot Savant who excelled in having sex? Like, he was just dynamite in the sack. Could that ever happen? Only Helena has ever been receptively helpful to this honest-to-God question I have. Everyone else struggles to get beyond how inappropriate and slightly offensive it is to realize that once you think about it, it’s sort of perplexing…right?"

— Random Thoughts I Couldn't Flesh Out Into Full Entires 11/18/2008

18. Even when sitting quietly, I am usually moving my hands or feet.

"I went to hot yoga Tuesday night. And despite my burning hatred of physically moving my body, being hot and sweating—I loved it! I know, I was just as shocked as you!"

— "TALOL & Thoughts I Couldn't Flesh Out Into Full Entries" 9/24/2009

19. In group activities it is hard for me to wait my turn.

"I stood there defeated. I turned around to see a group of thugs staring back at me. “Some dumb bitch punched me and I was trying to catch her so I can beat her ass in!” I explained to the head hood. I was met with sympathetic “Shit girl”s. They turned out to be really cool people! They informed me I had a “runny mascara situation” where I had been hit and I sassily told them not to worry about it. Then one of the thugs looked at me and said, “So we gonna smoke this blunt or not?” to which I said, “Spark that shit up! Pass that shit to me!” to which he said, “SHIT GIRL, there’s an established circle, you new to the crew, wait yo turn!” to which I said “Well then hurry up and light that shit!”

— "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" 12/13/2007

20. My mind gets so cluttered that it is hard for it to function.

"I'm one of those people where if one aspect of my life is going downhill (i.e. work...in a big way) then everything else seems like it's going downhill too and I just sit here all day thinking about how everything is spiraling out of control and there's nothing I can do about it except turn off the lights, put on The Smith's Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want and dramatically writhe, writhe, writhe, check my email, writhe, writhe, change into comfy pants, writhe. You know. I'm That Guy."

— "I was Accidentally Racist: Asian Edition!" 10/6/2009

21. My thoughts bounce around as if my mind is a pinball machine.

"For example, the other night I was in an elevator with a guy and when he got off at his floor he turned around and said, "Have a great night." I'm never prepared for this. It's just so polite. I mean, we weren't talking and I don't know you. But that's really nice. So then my inner monologue starts dissecting this act of kindness: "Oh shit, is he talking to me? Of course he's talking to me, I'm the only person in the elevator. Wow, what a nice and awkward thing to do. Is he trying to get in my pants? Would I let him? Is he Lebanese or just really tan? Either way that's hot right? FUCK! SAY SOMETHING BACK!" And then I manage to make out a soft "Your too. I mean you. Night. Ha." just as the doors have closed. This happens to me more than you would expect. And I'm sufficiently awkward about it each time."

— "Inner Monologue Time!" 12/14/2008

22. My brain feels as if it is a television set with all the channels going at once.

"This morning in Gender in Society, we were discussing "The Glass Escalator" which is when men enter "women's fields" like teaching and get promoted quickly to administrative positions because they are men...patriarchy...matrix of domination...blah blah blah. Anyway, all I could think of was Mr. Feeny from "Boy Meets World" and how he was first their middle school teacher and then followed them to high school and finally was promoted to became a college professor. Mr. Feeny like owned the Glass Escalator. Then I couldn't stop thinking about how hot Eric Mathews was. And how comical Rider Strong's name is, and how odd it is that he's gay. Who knew?! Then I realized why I have an A in the class and a D in participation. So when I was walking to Art of the Renaissance, I was still thinking about my Mr. Feeny-Glass-Escalator-Theory and blatantly tripped and fell flat on my face in the quad, producing a giant cut on my leg, which was bleeding during class. So there I am, bleeding-out in the middle of class trying to take notes and maintain consciousness. Why is my life so awkward?"

— "An Annotated Anthology of Awkward" 1/08/2009

23. I am unable to stop daydreaming.

"I have a gym crush by the way. Tee hee ha ha hee hee hooo...He's a giant dreamy dream boat that I just want to sail away on. His name is Kyle. (In my mind. Clearly, I've never talked to him, nor do I have plans to ever talk to him. Because that would just be crazy.) Kyle is a veterinarian for sick and lonely pugs, owns his own row house on Capitol Hill and moonlights as a cage fighter. He's the best."

— "Drinking Game Friday Remembers John Hughes" 8/07/2009

24. I am distressed by the disorganized way my brain works.

"I pay a therapist $200 a session, two sessions a month, and 3/4 of our session is spent with me awkwardly looking around the office desperately trying to think of something to talk about. However get me in the back of a cab and I open up like I’ve just taken a truth serum. My life is just one incredibly un-sexy episode of "Taxi Cab Confessions." One time I was talking to a cabbie about his native Barbados and he told me that he thought I would like life there better than New York because it was laid-back, like me. I actually told him, and I quote, that I “indeed have the soul of an islander.” First of all, who the fuck says that? And secondly, just on a factual level, I actually don’t have the soul of an islander; I’m kind of neurotic and high-strung. I don’t know why I adopt this Jimmy Buffet, open-book persona with cabbies, but I appreciate our time together. It’s less expensive than therapy and pine-scented."

— "You. You reading this. You look amazing today." 12/08/2008

Final Score:


I KNEW IT. So I just print out this post, take it to CVS and get some Ritalin, right?

Because I just had to weigh in...

Remember when you were a kid and you'd hit your sister on the arm really hard repeatedly until she hit you back and then you'd run to your mom hysterically crying all, "MOMMM!!!!! BECCA HIT MEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!"? That, in a nutshell, is Meghan McCain. And guess what? She's up to it again.

From Meg-Dawg's Twitter account (or so readers and Perez Hilton tell me, as we remember she blocked me months ago):

"...so I took a fun picture [see above] not thinking anything about what I was wearing but apparently anything other than a pantsuit I am a slut.."

Madam. Your tits look like they're being held up by fishing line and God is playing them like marionettes. Perhaps that, coupled with the fact that you look like you just got fucked six-ways-to-the-weekend, is the reason people think you look like a "slut." I don't think your lack of a pantsuit had anything to do with it.

"I am going to take some more time to think about it but seriously I was just trying to be funny with the book and that I'm a dork staying in."

And that's commendable. I mean, how many times have I stayed home in my jammies to watch a little NatGeo? Answer: too many. However, I probably wouldn't take a picture of myself in front of the TV wearing nothing but nipple clamps, parting my vagina lips and flashing a peace sign and post it to my Twitter account with the caption, "Jus stayin in 2nite n bein lame!!!" (...Probably being the key word here.)

"when I am alone in my apartment, I wear tank tops and sweat pants, I had no idea this makes me a "slut"..."

Yep. Just hangin' around her apartment. In full makeup. And hair. With a fresh manicure. And her boobs hiked up and her top pulled down. Just a candid moment in the life of an average girl poopin' around her apartment. And ~*WhAt A dOrK!!1*~

"I do want to apologize to anyone that was offended by my twitpic, I have clearly made a huge mistake and am sorry 2 those that are offended."

Hm. Well, at least she's in good company.



Look. Homegirl. I have DD/DDD boobs. I, of all people, understand that sometimes it's hard to round up the troops and keep 'em in line. But your dad's a Senator. You're vying to be the new face of the Republican party. You are not Tila Tequila. It's time to recognize that that's your cross to bear, invest is some extra yardage and Akrite.

Love,
Meghan C. McBlogger