Follow-Up FAQs

1.) How is Evie?
Evie is great, thanks so much for asking. If you're new here, Evie is my parents' prized Tonkinese show cat who replaced me when I went away to college 9 billion years ago. We infamously didn't get along at first, then fell in love when I moved back home and got mono in 2008. The weekend my mono officially got really bad, I remember lying on the cool tile floor of my parents' kitchen—ALONE, mind you, because Rich and Di went away to the Eastern Shore for a jaunty weekend with Becca and Geoff — Also worth noting they brought me back madras booty shorts to make up for it, and it worked like a goddamn charm—and Evie put our differences aside, sauntered over, and stuck by me all weekend. We've been best friends ever since, and she's had a bit of a cult-following-within-a-cult-following on this here blog.

Here's a one-act I wrote about cat-sitting her that got me into grad school

Here's a picture of a porn star with little Evie heads covering her NSFW bits

Here's a picture of Evie with little porn star heads covering her NSFW cat bits

2.) Is Chris coming back to blog, too?
Man, who knows what that homo is up to. I mean, I do, because we're still actively best friends. So, yeah, I think he is! I asked if he wanted to and he said yes. But he said it (texted it) with the same vague enthusiasm he reserves for when I'm a pound of gummy edibles deep at 2 o'clock in the morning and text him 14-inch long iMessage pitches for various spins on the same ghost-hunting reality show idea. (It's called Low-Key Ghost Hunters. Sometimes he doesn't reply at all.)

For new people, Christopher Turner-Neal is a William Faulkner/Joe Exotic hybrid I've loved ever since I jerked him off on Abigail Breslin's older brother's couch in college. He was visiting a mutual friend and went back to Tulane to immediately come out of the closet, but we stayed friends. Then best friends. Then unhealthily co-dependent parasitic life partners, which is where we currently reside. He co-wrote a large chunk of the blog back in the day, and we wrote poopie-poopie fart joke books together. You'll like him. He's funnier and a better writer than me, but then again, I'm better at social-distancing, SooOooOO...*

*(This is a reference to the fact that I recently publicly shamed Chris on Instagram for trying TO GO TO THE NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA DMV DURING SELF-ISOLATION, and he was super bitchy about it, and now he's going above and beyond by delivering meals to elderly people, possibly to make up for it.)

3.) Are you still the sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere?
No. I am very much not the sardonic voice of 20-somethings anywhere, and I shouldn't be the voice of anyone at any age. I dicked around on Blogger for a solid hour last night trying to take that off the blog title, then lost interest and fell asleep watching Dairy Week on The Great British Bake Off. 

I don't know anything about 20-somethings. Maybe late 20-somethings, but certainly not early 20-somethings. I watched Euphoria and it shocked me to my core. I literally sat down, put my readers on, and googled, "Is Euphoria really what high school is like?" It also took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that Jules is trans. The establishing shot of her injecting herself with hormones within the first 15-seconds of the show wasn't heavy-handed enough for me. I honestly thought she was diabetic. I was fully prepared for a Steel Magnolias-style irresponsible Diabetes decision-making plot-line and was shocked when it never came. It also didn't seem weird to me at all that she met what's-his-name's dad on Grindr, because you really do have to cast a wide net.

4.) What is the bag and why are you sorr for it?
The bag is the bag, and I will always be sorr for it.

5.) How can I contact you?
Ignore my blog email because I only ever check that account every few years and then want to flush myself down the toilet because I've missed an important email and have to respond three years later like a jackass. I will eventually update the header, sidebars, etc.

Email me directly at meghan.c.rowland@gmail.com or DM me on Instagram - @meg4lyfe. I'm here. I'm in a way, too. We'll get through this.

See you tomorrow.

Meg

2 Birds Investigates: Epimedium

When Chris was here helping me reassure the blog that everyone gets their period and they can go back to school and none of the boys would be able to tell, we decided it would behoove us to get a few investigations done. The problem was—as it always is—we didn’t have money to investigate anything cool like acupuncture, belly dancing, or paying my Comcast bill. With ten-dollars and a coupon for a free deck pressure washing between us, Chris had an idea:

“You know when you’re at the gas station and there are all those pills by the cash register like, ‘STAY UP LATER!!! STUDY HARDER!!! FUCK YOUR WIFE LONGER!!!’?”

Yes…

“Well, I think we should both take a shit-ton of the fuck your wife longers and just see what happens.” And with that, 2 Birds Investigates: Boner Pills was born.

After discovering that the only natural aphrodisiac my CVS sells is a 15-ounce can of Bartlett Pears in heavy syrup, we got lazy and turned to sweet Lady Internet to solve the problem for us. After 30-minutes of searching drugstore.com for a product that we only had the vaguest concept of (Chris what exactly should I be looking for? “You know…like all-natural do-her pills.” What, like ExtenZe…? “Meh. Maybe.”), I stumbled upon Desire-X Horny Goat Weed:

PLINKO!

According to the bottle, “This exotic formula contains Horny Goat Weed, a natural ingredient that has been used for centuries. Horny Goat Weed stimulates sexual desire in both men and women, and has a long history as a top aid for erectile function in men. Also included are other powerful sexual energizers like Maca, known as Peruvian Ginseng and used by ancient Incas as an aphrodisiac. This complete formula combines recognized natural ingredients that have been shown to promote desire and performance.”

According to Wikipedia, Horny Goat Weed (aka Rowdy Lamb Herb, Barrenwort, Bishop’s Hat, Fairy Wings, or 淫羊藿) is a hardy perennial in the Epimedium genus of flowering plants, endemic to southern China and other parts of the mysterious Orient. Its garden use is as a beautiful ground cover plant. Its human use is to treatment erectile dysfunction and osteoporosis. (One way or another, it firms you right up. ZZZZZZZING!!!!) Given that it works on both men and women and was on sale for $7.69, we ordered a bottle and laid out our plan: we’d both take a few big ‘ole handfuls, sit next to each other on the couch, sip some Prosecco and see where the night took us. We then spent six hours arguing that if we did do it, and I did get Megnant, what would we name it— Julia Sugarbaker or Pilgor? (~*TEAM PILGOR!!1!*~)

A few days later, our Horny Goat Weed arrived (thank Christ for discreet packaging) and as the sun intentionally brushed the skyline with its breast as it set, we got ready to get busy.

Step 1: Make yourself beautiful

I asked Chris which of the following erotic lingerie scenarios would get him in the mood:

- Schoolgirl, preppy

- Schoolgirl, badass

- Sweet ‘n sensual

- Bored housewife

Without hesitation, he requested Schoolgirl, badass. I took this into consideration and didn’t “disregard it”, per se, but did make the executive decision to go with B-level call girl from 1988. Mostly because it felt like a backcombing night.

(Sidenote: It’s worth mentioning that I got this negligee from Victoria’s Secret when I was 17 because I was like, I’M IN COLLEGE! I NEED SOMETHING SEXY TO WEAR WHEN I HAVE ALL OF THE…SEX! Clearly my idea of “sexy lingerie” was based on the erotic power of mesh and all four Revenge of the Nerds.)

Chris then proceeded to use his tongue scraper and put on a fresh coat of Old Spice. It’s the thought that counts.

Step 2: Set the scene

Chris decided it was only polite to buy me dinner first, which meant he microwaved two of my frozen burritos, set the table, lit a single candle, and relied on the Toni Braxton Pandora station to add a sensual note to the proceedings.

Yes, those are martini glasses filled with half a bottle’s worth of Horny Goat Weed. My boo is classy as shit.

Step 3: Cover all bases

Step 4: Down half a bottle of Horny Goat Weed capsules

Make sure to cheers first!

Step 5: Enjoy your frozen burrito

Step 6: Put on a good old fashioned skin flick

For somewhat obvious reasons, we had a hard time thinking of porn that would appeal to both of us. We decided to meet in the middle and go with the Switzerland of erotica: a special edition DVD of Vivid’s highlights of ’94. It was that or each use our own laptops with headphones, or as I call it, “Monday”.

Results

Well…it wasn’t exactly what we were expecting. I don’t think either of us got that horny. Chris did reach out and grab my left breast at one point, but it was halfhearted and nothing new. We really did give it the old college try, though. We watched porn for well over an hour sitting uncomfortably close to each other, but at the end of an hour, all we had was a page of snarky notes:

- “I see London, I see France, I see crushed velvet underpants!”

- “Is that a gal or a surfer”  (This question arose several times)

- “This sounds like the transitional scene music in a black sit-com”

- “Don’t you think she looks like Cloris Leachman??” (She did)

- THAT ACTOR HAS A MOLE WITH IRREGULAR BORDERS

As the scene shifted to a pizza parlor where things were not where they seemed, we noticed we were laughing hard, even for viewers of 90’s porn, and that another burrito sounded awesome. I changed into my pajamas and we turned off the porn to find that Role Models was ending and was about to play again in five minutes. This news was way too exciting. As I crammed yet another chip/carrot/blob of hummus into my mouth, I locked eyes with Chris and we came to a startling discovery: we were totally stoned. It was a surprise, but frankly we had no objections. Being stoned, we naturally had a series of stoned ideas. Most of these were about hugs, but I also decided to see what would happen if you tried to smoke Horny Goat Weed.

The answer is you burn it and then inhale a mouthful of hot plant dust, then make a series of hilarious faces as you wipe your face on the strap of your sports bra.

As the evening went on, I ate a lot of cheese and thought too much about my own mortality, and Chris peacefully read The Hunger Games curled up on the couch. All in all, it was probably more fulfilling than actually having intercourse. ~*TEAM PEETA!!!1!*~