State of the Meg—July, 2010

- 'Eh...I've been going through some stuff that I don't really care to talk about, suffice to say I learned (yet again) that it's not a good idea to suddenly try to wean yourself off anti-depressants. In my defense though, I did take AP Psychology in 2002. I got a 3 on the exam, a B- in the class and remember three things from the entire experience:

1.) The story of Phineas Gage, the guy who was working on a railroad in the 1800's, when a tamping rod shot through his brain and turned him into a real asshole. (And truthfully I only remember that story because I think "Phineas Gage and the Tamping Rods" would be an excellent band name.)

2.) That thing when you're just about to fall asleep but you jerk awake because you feel like you're falling is called "Myoclonus."

3.) "Rooting" is when you poke a baby on its cheek and automatically turns and searches for the nipple.

So clearly, I think we both see why I thought I was qualified to make executive decisions about my own mental health.

- And speaking of good band names! I refer you to the following email I got this morning from my sister:

Do you remember that one time when we looked up what time the sun was going down because I was walking back to VA and we found the term “civil twilight” and I said it was a great name for a band? Well someone stole my idea! http://www.expressnightout.com/content/2010/07/civil-twilight-civil-twilight-cd-930-club.php

Bastards.

Bastards indeed. However, that's exactly what I always imagined the band "Civil Twilight" looking like. Exactly.

- And speaking of my sister and depression! Last week's quote of the week went to her when she met me at work after I emailed her and asked if she would come over and give me a hug. She showed up within five minutes (aww...), and I took her to a discreet corner of the greeting card section and proceeded to hug the crap out of her. It was nice and reassuring and I'll ask you to reserve your judgment, thank you. I'm not a robot. Sometimes I need a good skip and a good hug. Plus, I like my co-workers, but I don't think we're on please-hold-me-in-the-card-section terms. Yet.

After we hugged it out, this conversation transpired:

Becca: What's going on you, dude? You haven't been blogging.

Me: I don't really know, but something's up. I've been significantly more depressed than usual. Like sleeping 17 hours at a time, depressed.

Becca, unfazed: ...Isn't that kind of normal for you?

And you know what? Touché, madam.

- I bought a Gillette Mach-3 razor the other day because it was on sale at CVS with my extra savings card and my legs have never been this smooth in my entire life. Ever. It seriously blows my mind. If I ever had physical contact with a member of the opposite sex, I'm sure he would appreciate it. In the mean time, I keep catching myself zoning out and absentmindedly stroking my legs at inappropriate times, which only makes me feel slightly like a child molester.

- And speaking of sad single woman stereotypes, guess who's getting a cat for the next six weeks? THIS GUY. No, no, not Evie. (I wish.) It's my sister's best friend Laura's brother's cat. Laura and her husband Chris were supposed to cat-sit her for the summer, but unfortunately she got in a vicious fight with their two other cats and perhaps lost an eye? So who do you turn to when you have a one-eyed cat that needs to be unloaded for a summer? Meg McBlogger, that's who. Truthfully I'm more than happy to help Laura and Chris out and I met the cat last weekend and she seems nice enough. She's a calico. Her little pirate eye broke my heart. However, I take offense with her name—Cashmere. I just have an issue with sharing an apartment with anything that sounds like it should be a featured weekend dancer at Larry Flynt's Hustler Club. Here are my top-3 choices for what I'll call her:

- One-Eyed Willie

- Chester Copperpot

- Sean Astin

So far I'm leaning towards the latter.

- In the continuing battle of Meg vs. Common Everyday Metals, I'm allergic to the back of my name tag at work. Normally I wear a cardigan or a cami under my shirt at work so the metal doesn't touch my skin, but it being July in Washington, DC and all, it hasn't really been layer-appropriate weather recently. So now I have a rectangular shaped welt on my chest that's flaking and constantly itches. It's really, really cute. Sometimes I catch people staring at it and I want to be like, "IT'S NOT SCABIES—I JUST HAVE A SEVERE ALLERGY TO NICKEL AND AM TOO EMBARRASSED TO ASK FOR A SPECIAL HYPO-ALLERGENIC NAME TAG AND PAINTING CLEAR NAIL POLISH ON THE BACK OF IT DOESN'T HELP!" But that wouldn't really make anything "better," so I let 'em just assume I have scabies instead. That's the state of my life right now—I willing let people believe I have scabies.

- Speaking of work, we sell a birthday card that has an illustration of two beavers holding a log that says "Happy Birthday!" and the description when you ring it up is "Happy Birthday 2 Beavers". Everytime someone buys it, I pee myself juuuuuust a little bit.

- In the continuing battle of poverty, I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is that I picked up 10 extra hours a week at work because I sent the most Desperate Debbie email to my managers begging them to throw any leftover hour scraps under the table for me. Thankfully, they were very generous. The bad news is that I'm still not making enough money to make ends meet, so I turned to the only place where a young, working woman can make a few extra dollars without compromising her integrity—Craigslist.

The Haunted Ghost Tour thing didn't pan-out, so I answered an ad for a health study on smoking that promised to pay $100. Now I'm not a "smoker" per se, but at this point I'd get on all fours and eat a pack of Marlboro Reds if you gave me 100-bucks. But alas, I hauled ass to NIH on my day off only to find out that my lung capacity is too good and I was turned down. Thus I call shenanigans on my mom for telling me that pot damages your lungs just as much as cigarettes and expect $100 retribution in the mail any day now. Kthnx.

- Feeling extra desperate recently, I decided to parooze the Craigslist adult gigs because sometimes you luck out and find some schmo who gets off on really random and non-sexual things and it's like, shit—I'll let you watch me do sudoku for a half an hour as long as I'm fully clothed and we do it in a Barnes & Noble, you know? Who am I to judge? Unfortunately all of the adult ads have been too sexual to consider recently, which is unfortunate, but does remind me of one of the biggest disagreements Ex Co-Blogger Chris and I have ever had in the history of our friendship.

When we were roommates in Brooklyn, I found an ad for a guy who would pay $500 to come and clean your house (fully clothed) and all you had to do in return is berate him while he did it (also fully clothed). I thought I had solved three problems with this ad: 1.) lack of money; 2.) anger management 3.) the hard to reach grease caked around the burners of our stovetop.

I drafted an email to this guy and out of courtesy told Chris what I was doing and he was having none of it. He refused to let me do it because he thought the guy would kill me. Meeting him halfway, I told him he could be there when it happened, but that only made it worse because apparently the guy would "kill him too." Here was my argument for why it was a good idea and Chris was wrong:

1.) Our apartment's messy; you wanna clean it up?

2.) $500. (I mean, yes, this was a pre-Recession world we were living in, but even back then that was a shit-ton of money.)

3.) Spending a Saturday berating some repressed Wall Street weirdo while he scrubs our toilet and we watch and eat Craisins sounds like the most fun thing I humanly can think of. If it doesn't to you, perhaps you're not the man I thought you were.

4.) $500.

5.) I grew up watching HBO's Real Sex; the people with the weirdest fetishes tend to be the most corn-fed, middle America, harmless, normal people.

5.) $500.

6.) I will give you that anyone willing to answer a Craigslist fetish ad has to be slightly eccentric and open-minded, but serial killers don't get off killing those kinds of people. They go for the normal, girl-next-door type who answers an ad from the guy who has an extra ticket to the Jason Mraz concert tonight and is looking for a LTR. That girl isn't expecting to get killed; she's expecting a night of grade-A crooning. The fetishist at least somewhat expects to end up a lampshade. And where's the fun in that? Where's the element of surprise? Jesus, watch an episode of Profiler or something.

7.) $500.

In the end, the fight escalated to "if you answer that ad, I'm moving out," so I decided to concede and forget about it because I'm such a good person. But I still kind of resent Chris for it and bring up this fight whenever possible. Obviously.

- I was at work the other day and a family of very obvious tourists walked in a started looking around the "Fun & Funky" table. On said table, we sell a book called Farts: A Spotter's Guide. It's basically a little noise machine that makes various farting noises attached to a book that explains what each kind of fart is. (I got it for Talia's birthday and it was the hit of the party. Mind you this was the party with the gin bucket, so the bar was already raised pretty high.)

The patriarch of the family picked up the book and started shaking his head disapprovingly. (Mind you he looked like the kind of guy who asks his son if he's a "queer" for not wanting to play football, but then creeps into his room at night to make him touch a completely different kind of pigskin, if you know what I mean. An Intervention Father, as I call them.) So he has the book in his hand and is shaking his head at it when he sternly says, "Farts. Farts, in our Nation's Capitol," puts the book down in disgust and walks away.

Thus, my new moneymaking scheme is to write a hit children's book called, Even The District Farts! and make a million dollars.

Good day to you, poverty.

State of the Meg: SCABIES!!!!!!1

Some housekeeping & Thoughts I Couldn't Flesh Out Into Full Entries

First and foremost, I just want to thank you guys for the surge in votes and support after Monday's "unpleasantness." That whole episode taught me two important things: 1.) It's not just me; Suzy's a total fuckin' asshole and 2.) I fear the 2b1b reader's wrath. For it is a mighty, mighty wrath. Seriously. When you guys get pissed off, you get shit done. You put out fires. And I like it. But I also fear it. Soooo I'm just going to keep doing what I've been doing and pray to the sweet Lord almighty that I don't fuck up and piss you off. It's kind of like a horribly abusive relationship that could be made into a Lifetime movie. I'd like to think I'd be played by Tracey Gold and you'd be played by Andrew Shue. Mmkay, well I'll be in the kitchen making your dinner where I belong. Love you baby.

- Next item of housekeeping: I got the following email from 2b1b reader, Chad, Tuesday morning:

Subject: Question about the Criagslist Coffee Challenge
Hello Ms. McBlogger…

I have a quick question about your posting on Craigslist requesting a philanthropic soul to bring you coffee. I was discussing this post with a friend of mine this evening, and she pointed something out that I hadn’t noticed before. (Obviously she’s much better with fine details than I am.) Why does the timestamp on your CL post say 5:16 p.m. if you needed your coffee between 12 and 4 p.m.?

My friend says that the story is a fabrication, just to have a cute story on the blog. While that explanation is conceivable and plausible given “the best answer is often the simplest”, I am offering the benefit of the doubt with the rationale that maybe the post in the picture was actually a second re-post on CL, a cleaned-up and better organized version of the original post that made for an easier image to place on the blog.

Of course neither of us actually dug around to track down your post on Craigslist to see what the timestamp really is, but I figured I’d just ask.

Thanks Meg. You’ve provided us with needed entertainment. Have a splendid Tuesday.

Chad and his friend bring up a completely valid point, and now I'm nervous that other people noticed the timestamp and think I'm a Frances Fabricator, so allow me to share my response in order to clear up any confusion:

Dear Chad:

That's a good question, with a good answer. The Craigslist Coffee Challenge really happened and you have my word on that. I originally posted the ad at approximately 1 o'clock in the afternoon and received my coffee at approximately 4. However, my ad was flagged and deleted by Craigslist before I could take a screen shot to prove that I actually posted it (please see forwarded email below). I felt the screen shot of the ad was crucial to the effectiveness of the post and thus re-published it, solely for getting said shot. I didn't realize the time stamp would be incorrect and I'd look like a liar. Which is upsetting, because it really happened. Man is my face red. Sigh...

I hope this clears up any confusion. Thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt, unlike your friend, who I deduce is an asshole.

Just kidding.

(Not really.)

Love,
Meg

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: craigslist <noreply@craigslist.org>
Date: Wed, Jul 29, 2009 at 4:58 PM
Subject: flagged & removed: 1295359165 (domestic gigs) Need someone to bring me coffee!
To: meg@2birds1blog.com

Your posting has been flagged for removal.

Approximately 98% of postings removed are in violation of craigslist posting guidelines.

Please make sure you are abiding by all posted site rules, including our terms of use.

In conclusion: the Craigslist Coffee Challenge really happened, I'm an idiot and Chad's friend is probably not an asshole. Okay? Well all on the same page? GOOD. Moving on.

- Whenever I flip by an ad for the TV version of 10 Things I Hate About You, I always think it says 10 Things I Hate About Iraq for a solid fraction of a second.



And what's weirder is that in that fraction of a second, I'm not confused. It makes sense to me that there would be a TV show called 10 Things I Hate About Iraq. Because I can think of 10 Things I Hate About Iraq:
1.) It's hot
2.) It's sandy
3.) It's where the Pauly Shore movie In the Army Now was filmed
4.) Just kidding, that was Chad/Libya
5.) Further research shows it was actually Imperial Valley, California
6.) It's all war-torn and shit
7.) Our troops are there
8.) But are not quite welcomed
9.) Have you ever seen a camel spider?
10.) I know, right?!

Although if 10 Things I Hate About Iraq actually was a show, it would be ABC Family.

- I'm jealous of my sheets because they're back on my bed and I'm not.

- The other day I got what I thought were eye makeup remover pads, but turned out to actually be Noxema astringent pads. This isn't going where you think it is; I didn't burn my eyes out with astringent. (Thank Jebus.) What stopped me was that familiar stingy Noxema smell that prompted the most intense flashback I've ever experienced in my entire life. One minute I'm standing there in 2009 and the next it's 1996: I'm 11-years-old, defniately own a lava lamp, am wearing board shorts, Airwalk sneakers and a Johns Hopkins lacrosse camp t-shirt and I'm standing in Mrs. Jordan's 4th period science class researching the most effective and time efficient way to kill myself to escape the pain and torture that is The Middle School Experience. Snap back to 2009. I put the lid back on the brand new bottle of Noxema, walked it out of my apartment, down the hall and threw it down the trash shoot where the scent could haunt me no more.

I then spent the rest of the night blowing my nose and thanking god I finally developed breasts.

The Craigslist Coffee Challenge

I have a recurring problem at work: I want coffee but don't want to get up to get it. First of all, I hate the coffee we have in the office and refuse to drink it. Although I was unemployed for six months, I would say the worst part of the Recession is that my office is forced to cut corners and buy Staples brand coffee. It's disgusting. As Boss #1 infamously said, "it smells like pencil shavings and cooter." To which I say no thank you. Ergo, I'm forced to venture out into the world to get a drinkable cup of coffee.

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.

Not only did I have a vicious case of "coffee lazy," but I couldn't leave my office even if I wanted to. Boss #1 and our VP of sales were headed over to the office between the ambiguous hours of 12 and 4. Obviously, because I'm me, the second I ran out, Boss #1 and VP would inevitably come waltzing in and pee their pants that I left the studio unattended. So I decided not to risk it and stayed put.

As the hours went by, I fell deeper and deeper into caffeine withdrawal. I briefly considered making a pot of Cooter & Shavings coffee, but just couldn't do it. Knowing that Helena had the day off, I offered her $100,000 cash to bring me a latte. She respectfully declined as a.) it was her day off b.) she lives on Capitol Hill and I work in Metro Center and c.) she didn't want to put pants on. I understood completely. So, I did the next logical thing and called my mom to see if she would do it. And she hung up on me.

What was a girl to do? Then I got an idea...what if I posted an ad on Craigslist for someone to bring me coffee? Could I really rely on my fellow man to help me out in my hour of need? Are people really that selfless? I took to gchat to consult Helena:

me: helena, i'm honestly considering posting an ad on craigslist in random gigs for someone to deliver me a latte
Helena: do it
see if it works
what's the worst that can happen?

And that's about all the convincing I needed. Ten minutes later, I had posted this ad in "domestic gigs":

(For those of us without 20/20 vision, it reads "So, I'm at work and desperately need a cup of coffee but I can't leave my office. You can see the predicament I'm in. None of my co-workers are in, none of my friends can do it and my mom refuses to drive in from Maryland. I would really, really appreciate it if you could swing by and help me out. I'd prefer a quad venti skim latte from Starbucks, but I realize that beggars can't be choosers. I can pay you back upon delivery. As a bonus, I can offer you a bevy of free office supplies including, but not limited to, promotional packs of gum and extra-heavy card stock paper. Thanks!"

20 minutes later, I got my first response:

KEEP ON DREAMING HEHEHAHAHEHEhahahehehahahehe

Reading that burned like Chlamydia. Come on asshole! If you're not going to bring me coffee or at least give me advice on how to get coffee, why take the time to email me at all? This was essentially a digital version of pointing and laughing and I did not appreciate one bit.

Luckily a few minutes later, I got another response:

ad was funny.. why not get a coffee pot and lil fridge.. there are pots you can make by the cup when you want em lil coffee packs of diff flavors go in em.. go look in kohls or sears or such pricy but worth it..

'Eh. I guess this one is more constructive than the last, but didn't I explicitly state that I can't leave my office? How do you propose I get to Kohl's or Sears to get a "lil" coffee pot and "lil" mini fridge? Clone myself? And if so, does the clone have her own money to buy kitchen appliances? Because I sure as shit don't. I appreciated the sentiment though.

Then this response rolled in:

how about you suck my dick,,, and we call it even

Now, I like coffee. And I also happen to like dick. However, I'd prefer to keep my interactions with coffee and dick separate. And by the way, I don't really think exchanging a blow job for a cup of coffee really is "calling it even." How much does a cup of coffee cost? $5 max? I'd like to think a Meg McBlogger blow job could fetch more than that, thank you very much. I'd expect a biscotti too, at the very least.

Just when I was giving up hope, I got this:

hey do you still need coffee? - phillip

SCORE! An offer that didn't involve laughing at my misfortune or sucking dick! I jumped on it. But before officially accepting the offer, I quickly looked this Phillip character up on Facebook to make sure his picture wasn't him holding a giant butcher knife, wearing a t-shirt that says, "IMMA CUT YOU!" Luckily for me, not only was he not wielding a knife or menacing t-shirt, he used to work with Alex and is currently the assistant manager of American Apparel in Chinatown. How crazy is that? I briefly considered asking him to bring me a romper and leggings with my coffee, but decided not to press my luck.

10 minutes later, Phillip the delightful hipster delivered me my delicious quad venti skim latte. When Boss #1 and VP showed up a few minutes later, they were none the wiser.

Score:
Murphy's Law: 0
Craigslist: 1

Where's My Federal Bailout?

I don't know about you, but I continue to find myself strapped for cash. This might be my own fault for having basic needs. My financial problems could be easily remedied if I gave up drinking (but once it hits your lips, it's just so good), eating (I have got to stop ordering the Lover’s Delight at Plunder), clothing myself, existing, etc. Aside from an extreme hunger strike to boost my bank account, I’ve been toying with idea of getting a second job.

This thought is usually beaten into submission by my social life because bars don’t have "disgruntled hours" for those working multiple jobs. But the closer I get to having my own apartment and becoming an actual adult, the more I realize my current salary is not nearly as much money as I had previously thought. Since Amy Winehouse's mental state is in better shape than our economy, I probably won’t be seeing a raise in the near future. So I’ve got to think about alternative ways to put dollars into my starving bank account. However, if I'm going to sacrifice my free time that I spend working on my night cheese or smiling with my eyes (10 points to whomever gets those references), it's got to be worth it. Retail jobs are like waterboarding without the water, and they don't believe in weekends or holidays. So no thank you, as I've got plans for Memorial Day Weekend that don't include hawking a Banana Republic credit card with your purchase of argyle socks. What I need is a supplementary source of income off the beaten path.

What got me started thinking about this was an email I received at work. When I’m not blogging my face off, I work as a professional nerd in a science lab curing cancer, replete with beakers and Bunsen burners, et al. No joke, I’m looking at a test tube right now. Anyway, this email was from the Psychology department looking for volunteers for a research study. Normally, I can these emails faster than you can say “I am a Nigerian prince”, but I noticed they were offering compensation for volunteers, so I thought to myself “Free money? Yes please!” So naturally, my first thought is to become a semi-professional guinea pig. I'll just keep my eyes peeled for more mass emails from work and ads posted on the subway or other reputable sources. Are you between the ages of 18-45? Yes, go on. Do you sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and cough? That has happened to be before, so this still applies to me. Do you frequently use large doses of herion? Dammit, you lost me on that one. On the upside of this "career", you get paid a decent hourly rate for essentially doing nothing. $10/hour might not sound like much, but when you consider the fact that you're being paid to sleep/learn a foreign language/put together a puzzle/take an unnamed drug with unknown side effects, it's not a bad wage at all. On the downside, you could be taking a drug with unknown side effects and wind up like this infant (slightly NSFW).

As Napoleon Dynamite taught me, you need to have good skills. Nunchuck skills, bowhunting skills and the like. Although I might be whiter than an albino polar bear in a snowstorm, I've got some moves. (Yours truly was a member of a hip hop dance group in college, FACT!) That being said, a posting on Craigslist is advertising for a male go-go dancer. Upside: I would be getting paid to shake my moneymaker like somebody's bout to pay me, AND it's a night job, so it wouldn't interfere with my daily 9-5. Downside: Heavily tattooed?...That could be a problem. Also, I'm not fond of glitter.

Luckily for me, go-go dancing isn't the only opportunity Craigslist turned up. If you're familiar with my 2birds intro, you would know I've got mad game when it comes to rapping. Well lookie here! Professional beat dropping! And I played the drums in high school! I'm perfect for this! Upside: I could make it big as a rappercussionist. Bring the word "rappercussionist" into more common usage. Downside: Oh wait, they are serious about this. And our first gigs would probably be on the F train. Next!

Realistically, if I get a second job, I'm going to need it to be a job with bountiful night shifts. I've considered bartending, as (I like to think) I've got personality coming out of my ears and could charm the pants onto a nudist. However, I'm also pretty klutzy and while it was endearing when Jersey dropped bottles of top shelf liquor in a montage in Coyote Ugly, something tells me it wouldn't be quite as cute if I were to do that in real life. Even if I do sing "One Way or Another" immediately afterwards.

I guess I'm just going to have keep on doing what I do and hope to win the lottery sometime soon. Unless someone is in need of a trophy husband. Or my rappercussionist career takes off.


(Sidebar: After much cajoling from various friends, I've made the plunge and joined Twitter. You can follow me at www.twitter.com/misterlizlemon, because if you think I'm funny here, I'm even funnier in 140 characters or less. Fact!)

Random Thoughts I Couldn't Flesh-Out Into Full Entries

- Lord knows I love me some Britney Spears 'til death do us part. That being said, I can't listen to the song "Circus" without feeling uncomfortable and enraged. Why, you may ask? Allow me to point out the following lines:

"So baby, I hope that you came prepared
I run a tight ship, so beware

I'm like the ringleader
I call the shots"

Because it's like, you don't run a tight ship. At all. You run a notoriously sloppy and white trash ship. In fact, if you ran a ship, I'm almost positive it would look a little something like this:


And you don't call the shots and everybody knows it. Your dad calls the shots. By court-order. Because your grown-ass can't call the shots without handing the keys to your career over to the first used-car salesman you see or attempting to stab a paparazzo in the heart with an Umbrella/trident. A "tight ship" that does not make.

And then when I don't think it can get any worse, we get to this gem:

"I'm like a performer, the dance floor is my stage."

What was that Brit? You're not like a performer, you are a performer. That's your job. And the dance floor is your stage. Because you're a performer. The only way I can excuse this line is if every lyric website on the Internet is grammatically incorrect and it's supposed to be:

"I'm like [COMMA] a performer [PERIOD]. The dance floor is my stage."

Which reminds me of that Simpson's episode when Lionel Hutz changes the catchphrase on his business card from "Works on contingency, no money down." to "Works on contingency? No! Money down!"

Sigh...I just don't understand why Britney Spears has to lie to me via song.

- Dr. Dre is my role-model. I strive to be more like him everyday. **[HOLY HELL! Ok, I'm going to interrupt myself right there. So this random thought was going to be about how much I love Dr. Dre and how I feel this odd connection with him that I don't know how to explain. Sort of like my love for John McCain. But less...white. Anyway, as I finished writing the sentence "I strive to be more like him everyday," The Next Episode came on my ipod shuffle, which I interpret as the Universe confirming that I indeed do have a connection with Dr. Dre. I might even be bold enough to say that we're soul mates. I wonder what Dre would say if he knew that his soul mate is a 23-year-old white blogger actively campaigning to hug John McCain?]**

- Can we please talk about the following Missed Connection on Craigslist?

I fingered you for a little bit this weekend - m4w - 28 (dcmdva)
well, the title speaks for itself. Shoot me an email/photo to confirm it's you, and let the games begin.
ps - the music was loud-

1.) I have to applaud the romantic who can't help but wonder if there was a real connection between him and the gal he finger fucked on the dance floor for a little bit this weekend.
2.) This ad would be considerably less funny to me had it said, "I fingered you this weekend." The poetry lies in the inclusion of "a little bit."
3.) "ps - the music was loud-" is the least helpful situational clue ever. I hope some chick somewhere is reading this thinking, "No way! I was fingered for a little bit this weekend! I wonder if it was by this guy? Oh. Wait...Yep, nope, not him. We had some soft Enya playing in the background." (Some chick besides myself, that is.)

- Every morning for the past week I've had the song from the "Jitterbug" cell phone commercial stuck in my head. I don't know what about taking a shower at 7 o'clock in the morning makes me think of seniors who don't want a complex cell phone, but a.) it does and b.) it's driving me up the fucking wall. It's so ridiculously infectious. And then! Because I'm consciously thinking about not thinking about it, I get it stuck in my head anyway. I've caught myself on numerous occasions softly humming it while doing the Lindy Hop under my desk at work. And that, my friends, is when you know you're part of the problem and not the solution.

Now I pass that burden on to you. You're welcome.

Because you asked

You know when life isn’t exactly going your way and things just build and build until something relatively insignificant happens and you snap like a twig? I snapped like a twig today. I totally lost my shit and I would like to thank the Google Gods from above for the “Save Draft” option on gmail.

This morning I was laying in bed searching through the new job postings on Craigslist feeling a wee bit frustrated with life when I happened upon this ad for a DC area Executive Assistant. Now, I sift through what feels like hundreds of ads for executive assistants everyday, so what made this ad so uniquely enraging, you might ask? You have to answer six obnoxious essay-like questions in addition to sending your resume and cover letter just to be CONSIDERED for a preliminary interview.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FOR SERIOUSES?! How many hoops are you sons-of-bitches going to make me jump through just to answer your phone and alphabetize some files?! I don’t want to offend any executive assistants out there, I mean I’m desperate to join your ranks so mad respek to you and yours, but let’s all admit it’s not brain surgery. My blood boils when I think about the HR person writing this ad; all fat and cocky with his job devising hilarious ways to make this process more difficult. You’re not hiring Jack Bauer asshole, so there’s no need to have a screening process on par with Homeland Security’s.

We all know I consider writing cover letters to be just as inhumane as female circumcision, so you can understand why I lost it when I read this ad’s “short answer” section. I decided that if this jackhole really wants me to waste my time answering their irritating and unnecessary questions, then I was going to waste their time reading my honest and unnecessarily obnoxious answers:

1 - Describe your previous experiences as an EA. What have you enjoyed about being in that role? What negative experiences have you had?
I’ve never officially been an executive assistant but I’ve run my life pretty well up until this point. I also have a lot of experience working for assholes on a power trip. Does that count?

2 - Are you currently employed? If not, why not? If so, why are you looking to change jobs?
I am not currently employed. And are you seriously asking me why not? That’s like when people ask why I don’t have a boyfriend. If I knew what I was doing to prevent that from happening, I would have changed it by now asshole. Likewise on the job front.

3 - What responsibilities do you want, and what expectations do you have for your next job?
I don't want any responsibility. It doesn’t really fit with where I am in my life right now. At least I’m mature enough to realize that. It’s why I think condoms are a good idea; I’m just not ready for the responsibility of a child. If I could use a giant job condom, I would. But only abstinence is100% effective, so maybe I’ll start practicing that in regards to my career too.

4 - What would your previous (and current) boss(es) say about you if I asked them what it was like to have you as their assistant?
Really? You really want to play this game? Now who would really answer this question honestly? Let’s go down my resume, shall we?

• Editor of magazine in NY: “Meghan who?”

• Boss @ Paper Source: “Meg was a pretty good employee for the first year she worked here, but then she only worked Sundays and every time she came in was either still drunk, hung-over, or still drunk and hung-over. She was frequently wearing the outfit from the night before and smelled like Lindsay Lohan. When we had to separate her from various co-workers because all they did was quote A League of Their Own and make 90’s dance-pop mixes called “Now That’s What Paper Source Calls Music!” instead of actually helping customers, she stopped coming in all together out of spite. So did she finally OD or something?”

• Director of the Gallery I interned for: “Meghan was well-dressed, good with computers and kind of snarky. Being an older gay man, I loved her.”

• Editor of AmLit: “I thought Meg and I were totally tight until she hooked up with a friend of my boyfriend’s in the bathroom at my Christmas party last year and when I jokingly called her out on it a few months later never talked to me again because she was so painfully embarrassed. Although socially awkward, she was a good designer.”

• Boss @ 3Citron: “Meg was the best freelance designer we’ve ever had. I am proud and honored to say that she is my sister. She is my reason for living. I strive to be more like her everyday.”

• Boss @ NEST (green/organic home goods store): “Meghan ruined our natural cork floors by walking on them in 5” stilettos one day. Her carbon footprint was also astronomical. Bitch.”

5 - What are your salary requirements/expectations?
Enough to move into my sister’s apartment so I can move out of my parent’s house and live like an adult again and she can go live in sin with her boyfriend.

6 - Tell me a bit about yourself (non work related info) so that I can get a feel for your personality. (Hobbies, interests, background, etc. - anything goes!)
My name is Meghan. People have called me Meg ever since third grade when there were three Meghan’s in my class and Mrs. Dougherty told me to think of a nickname to make things less confusing. I don’t have any real goals or serious aspirations at the moment. I like thinking of harebrain schemes to avoid facing the real world, brunch is my favorite meal, I’ve never broken a bone, I’m awkward, I’m an Aires, I’ll do anything if I get a free commemorative t-shirt at the end, the only shots I’ll take are Jägermeisteror or Goldschläger, I want a Shina Ibu dog named Steve and a red-eared sliding turtle named Stanley, I’m agnostic, if it turns out there is a God, I wouldn’t be totally shocked if it’s Tim Gunn, I never answer my cell phone, I think I have ADD and/or it’s hyperactive cousin ADHD and every time I bring this up with my mom she says “probably” and then nothing ever happens about it, every time there’s an MTV "True Life" marathon on, I watch even though I’ve seen them all, if I could be reincarnated into anything it would be a house cat, the fact that I a.) went to Hawaii and hated it b.) don’t like burritos and c.) don’t watch Lost makes me feel like less of an American, I’m horrible at math, my go-to karaoke song is “Brandy” by Looking Glass, when I see a couple on the street I can’t help but think of them having sex later, I’m afraid of heights, I taught myself how to swim, my favorite champagne is Andre extra dry, the only movie I ever walked out of was The Brothers Grimm, Mr. Burns is my favorite Simpson’s character, I’m oddly good at kayaking, I need to get my tonsils and wisdom teeth out but won’t because I’m scared and I quit tennis camp when I was six because Shannon Mertz made fun of my volley.

So now that I've bared my soul and we’re best buddies, will you please let me organize your mail, allow you to talk down to me and silently resent you until I find a better job?

Craigslist = Shakespeare

Confession: One of my favorite things to do is read the adult gigs section of Craigslist. I’m fully aware of how sleazy that sounds, but honestly, nothing makes me laugh harder. I have the sense of humor of a 13-year-old, so I appreciate reading about people getting kicked in the balls and just generally enjoy when dollar signs are substituted for S’s. $ome people get their giggle$ from Family Circu$, I get mine from the adult gig listing$.

However, I don’t appreciate when people write confusing ads. How horny are you that you can’t run spell check or read over your ad a few times? For example…

IN SEARCH OF DMV'S FINEST LADIES AND GENTS

KABERET KING PRODUCTIONS IS CURENTLY SEEKING DMV'S MOST SEXIEST MALES AND FEMALES TO PARTICIPATE IN AN EROTIC EVENT!!!!! WE WILL BE SELECTING 6 INDIVIDUALS (3 LADIES) AND (3 MEN) TO PARTICIPATE IN DMV,S FIRST EROTIC CABERET. TO BE CONSIDERED FOR THIS EVENT, YOU MUST BE OPEN MINDED TO BOTH SEXES, 21 AND OVER, CONFIDENT, AND SEXY. THIS GIG WILL PAY 25.00 PER HOUR +. THERE WILL BE ABSOLUTELY (NO SEX INVOLVED)!! THIS EVENT IS BEING HELD FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!! TO BE CONSIDERED YOU MUST SUBMIT A NUDE FULL BODY PHOTO, AND FACE SHOT, WITH A SHORT PROFILE ABOUT YOURSELF/ WITH CONTACT NUMBER. ITS ALSO OK TO INCLUDE THINGS THAT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO INCLUDE THAT WILL MAKE YOU MORE TIPS!! THIS EVENT WILL BE HELD ON NEW YEARS EVE, WE WILL SCHEDULING INTERVEIWS SOON, PLEASE APPLY NOW!!! THOSE PHOTO'S THAT ARE SELECTED WILL BE CONTACTED IMMEDIATLEY.

When I read this, I was perplexed why anyone would want to have a sex party hosted by the DMV’s finest ladies and gents. That’s actually the least sexy situation I can think of. You might as well have a sex party in a bucket of ice. All I can picture is overweight white guys with sock garters and women with a whole lotta girdle and Hanes Herway action going on. DMV employees are real assholes, so the only way I could justify this posting is that it’s really a sick and twisted S&M party. Later it dawned on me that this is for DC/MD/VA’s finest ladies and gents. The letters “C,” “D,” and A” have never been more crucial in the history of the English language.

Handsome young thick hung football CEO love @ eat pu$$y $$$$$$$$$$$$ (look @ me now girls only !)
I am a young certified bachelor hung that loves football from Jamaica

currently looking for (1) Chick on da come up ..

We can work things on a 1 on 1 basis more like

(Partners,promoters,marketing,booking gigs,etc).

I have $500 to invest & very fast computer & a spot !!!

(I can be your body-guard & your mentor private shit plus travel)...

Holla @ me baby !!!

There isn’t one single part of this ad that makes sense.
1.) Is this man a handsome, young, thick, hung football CEO, or is he just shouting out random adjectives and nouns (Handsome! Young! Thick! Hung! Football! CEO! Toaster! Fiji! Antiques! Delighted! Femur! Limber!)?
2.) If the absence of a comma was on purpose, what exactly is a “football CEO?”
3.) Please tell me his email address is CEOlove@eatpu$$y.com
4.) I spent far too long trying to figure out how football from Jamaica differs from the US or UK version. I’m going to buy this man a gift set of commas for Christmas.
5.) What the fuck does “looking for one chick on da come up” mean? Say it out loud. It sounds like when you play someone talking backwards and you think the devil is telling you to burn your house down and kill your parents.
6.) New life goal: have a man tell me that he has $500, a very fast computer and a spot.
7.) Frankly, I think I might be interested in a job where you’re guaranteed a private shit and travel opportunities.

FREE CHINESE FOOD WITH CHICKEN WINGS ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: (WWW.PUSHERGIRLS.COM)

NO PAY !

JUST FOOD !

At first I thought this ad was geared towards people who find a buy-one-get-one-free bargain erotic. Later I realized the ad is trying to get models for “pushergirls.com” and the pay is in free Chinese food and chicken wings. I find this especially funny because this was their old ad from a few days before:

WE LIKE HOEZ WITH THINGS IN DE AZZ @$$$$$%%%$%$%$%#$%#$%$#%#$%#$%#%#$ (WWW.PUSHERGIRLS.COM)

YEAH BABY APPLY ON OUR SITE NOW

WWW.PUSHERGIRLS.COM

Here’s how I imagine that marketing meeting went down:
Advertising Guy 1: Well Fred, we may like hoez with things in de azz, but I don’t think hoez with things in de azz like us. We haven’t gotten a single reply to our ad!
Advertising Guy 2: Hmm…what would Don Draper do?… I’ve got it Charlie! Throw some free chicken and lo mein at ‘em and they'll be dropping down to show us their great wall in no time!

I am Comic Book Guy...fuck.

For the past month or so, I've just been livin' the dream. People keep asking me how it is living with my parents and I gotta tell you; it's not bad. How can you argue with free food, no rent, and no job? I even gutted my childhood room and re-created my old apartment in it, complete with mini fridge and wireless internet. Install a keg, give me a Bro to flirt with and I'd never leave.

The problem is, I'm starting to get too comfortable. I'd like to think I can pull off a lot of things, but being a blogger who lives in their parent's basement might be universally upsetting. I'm starting to remind myself of Chazz from Wedding Crashers more and more everyday:


Plus the other day I got cocky and pushed the limits of my parent's generosity. Instead of looking for a job or writing for my internship Monday, I spent a large portion of the late morning/early afternoon/late afternoon drinking Bloody Mary's with my friend Talia and watching reruns of The Hills and Disney Channel original movies. After a stern talkin'-to from my mom, I realized if this is the dream, it might be time to wake up.

So, I've come to terms with the fact that I need to finally get a job. My last job left me with mild Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and now I'm oddly specific about the parameters of the new one: no cubicles; no cover letters; no bosses; no asshole co-workers; no commutes; no dress code; no pervy office managers; no turnstiles you have to swipe an ID card to spin, yet they never spin, thereby banging a large metal bar into my pelvis twice a day reducing my chances of ever bearing children; no codes on bathroom doors; and no passive-aggressive inner-office emails from women old enough to remember when Garfield was president.

According to my dad, an HR guy, these demands are "unrealistic and slightly delusional." I took that statement as a challenge and went straight to Craigslist to start researching my new dream job. After a few days, I've managed to find eight jobs that perfectly fit my parameters. Let's assess their pros and cons:

#8:Actor/Actress as a Tour Bus Guide
+ " Seeking extremely outgoing, personable actor or actress as tour guide for bus tour..."
I'm outgoing and personable. I'm not an actress, but I have appeared in some mighty fine local theater in my day.+ "Singing TV theme songs is part of the job (you do not have to be a professional singer). Stand-up comedy experience a plus."
I was singing the Who's The Boss? theme song in the shower this morning and I'm not even saying that for comedic affect. Which is something I would do by the way, hence points for stand-up comedy experience a plus!
- "Do not email questions about the position--they will not be answered."
That's slightly off-putting. Is this a tour bus or a fight club?
- "Compensation: $75 per 3 hour shift."
If I'm going to be singing the theme song to Welcome Back Mr. Kotter down Mass Ave with tourists for three hours, you're going to have to do a lot better than $75.

#7: JEWISH EGG DONORS URGENTLY NEEDED $8,000+
+ I got eggs.
+ They're the eggs of God's chosen people.
+ Price is right.
- I don't think the world is ready for countless Meg-lets running around.
- I guess the whole invasive-surgery-to-harvest-my-eggs thing is kind of a deal-breaker.

#6: Show me your tats!
+ "Photographer looking for women with tattoos to help build his portfolio."
I have tattoos and I'm all for helping fellow artists build their portfolios.
- "There is no pay for this, but, I can take any other pics you'd like for no charge."
Yea...I'm actually looking for someone who can pay me in money, not artistic black and white photos of myself. That might be a form of currency in art school, but not in the real world.

#5: Are you the next Facebook./Myspace Star? (DC)
+ "Flexible hours and unlimited pay."
I like the sound of that!
- "Looking for local talented promoters who are Myspace and Facebook kings and queens..."
I guess that's where I run into some obstacles. I think my last MySpace update was in 2006. But if "Facebook Star" was a typo and they actually meant "Facebook Stalker," I think I just might be qualified!

#4: fusion expert (maryland)
+ "(maryland)"
+ "expert"
- "fusion"

#3: Sexy Escorts needed for a very busy agency
+ "Now hiring for a Very busy non-sexual Escort agency in the Washington,DC"
Hey, a non-sexual escort agency! I won't have to do anything sexual and I get copious amounts of money! I win twice!
- I've seen the classic 1996 Lifetime movie Co-ed Callgirl. One day you're a recent AU grad looking for a job, and the next you've just shot your pimp in the head while wearing a blue pleather catsuit. It's a slippery slope...

#2: Still looking(models for classy butt fetish site) $500-$1500 (PG County)
+ "We are a local production company in search of models and exotic dancers for a brand new butt fetish website."
They're local, so it meets my no hellish commute rule!
+ "This website is aimed to be a classy one not trashy one highlighting the black mans favorite part of a womans body."
I support class, and The Black Man.
- Being a white Irish girl, I have a pretty small butt. It's a sad day when you realize you're not even qualified to be on a classy butt fetish website.

#1: Kick me in the nuts (DC)
+ "Seeking a lady that wants to kick a gentlemen in the balls tonight."
I believe my ex-roommate Blair can attest that I can deliver both a powerful and accurate kick to the groin.
+ "No nudity, very discreet."
I appreciate both.
+ "You host."
I love hosting get-togethers! I want my own apartment so I can start hosting dinner parties again.

Yep, eight fantastic choices. In case you weren't keeping score, professional nut-kicker won, with fusion expert coming in at second and Jewish egg donor in third. That being said, I hope society can withhold their judgments as I go back to bed and continue to live the dream.