State of the Meg — April, 2010

Well, well, well...if it isn't April Fool's Day. Look at you, old "friend." Standing there in your pretty new party dress, fancy little bow in your hair, shiny new pennies in your penny loafers...Another year older? ANOTHER YEAR MORE IRRITATING, I SAY.

In case you new readers haven't picked up on it, April Fool's Day—or Day of Shattered Dreams & Burning Regrets, as I call it—is an especially hard day for me. Besides being a truly obnoxious "holiday" in and of itself, April Fool's Day is also the anniversary of the day I let my one shot at love with Michael Showalter slip between my fingers like sand through an hourglass. I'm not going to get into what happened because if I start I won't stop, so kindly educate yourself on my heartbreak here. This year marks the two year anniversary of Operation M! F.I.L.M.'s failure and much like the anniversary of the death of a loved one; it never gets any easier. I'm sorry. I'm getting a little choked up. I promised myself I wouldn't cry.........

OK, I'm over. (No, no I'm not. Nor will I ever been, but there's only so much blog space I can dedicate to pining over a lost opportunity to say "Um. Hey." to Michael Showalter before I start feeling slightly too Misery for my liking. So for the greater good, I'm going to move on.) (I'm just saying that I'm a Jewess with huge knockers and it's his loss. That's all.) (OK, seriously, moving on.) (I mean, I bought the entire first fucking season of Michael & Michael Have Issues on iTunes, what more do you want from me?!) (Meg, you're making an ass out of yourself again. What did we learn last April Fool's Day? Just move on.) (And I will, I just have one more thing to say.) (Frankly, I don't trust you.) (Please?) (Sigh...fine. Make it quick.) (Why? We both know you don't have anything to write about today.) (I think I fleshed something out last night while I was doing laundry, thank you very much.) (Oh this should be good. Pitching more books about road head today, are we?) (Do you want to get your last little piece out or not, asshole?) (Yes, sorry. OK. I just want to say that I'm a young, attractive, comedy writer with a heart of gold and breasts as big as my personality and I think I would be a wonderfully fun and supportive girlfriend. So there. That's all I have to say..........And if all else fails, I have a block and a sledgehammer and I will HOBBLE YOUR ASS BACK TO THE STONE AGE!) (..Sigh. God damn I hate you.) (Sorry.)

In other news, Co-Blogger Chris and I finally got together for dinner last night to celebrate him finally moving to the area. Unfortunately for the both of us, he was distracted the entire time by how anxious the first week at work has been and I was distracted the entire time by how sick I felt and the result was a kind of match.com first date vibe wafting throughout the evening. I think I know more about Chris than any other person on the planet and we've both been looking forward to this for months, but the phrase "Soooo...what else can I tell you about my life?" was uttered more than a few times throughout the meal.

As we waited for our check, I asked Chris a question that I'm sure all of my friends are sick of hearing at this point: "What should I write about on the blog tomorrow?" "Well," he answered, "what's been going on in your life recently?" I thought we had established during all of the awkward silences in our dinner that nothing's been going on in my life recently, but for the sake of a blog post, I sat there with Chris and made a list of noteworthy things that have been going on my life recently. A State of the Meg, if you will. I share that State of the Meg with you now:

State of the Meg — April, 2010

- I turn 25 in a few weeks. I guess that's kind of legit. I can legally rent a car, which is...cool.

- I head back to the work force this weekend. I'll be going back to the retail job I worked in college to get some money while I work on my writing (HA HA, lofty goals. I'm adorable!) I'm not saying where though because I don't want certain bosses who might hold certain grudges against me and a certain blog I write (META!) calling certain managers and telling them what a certain asshole I am. I just googled "2birds1blog" plus the name of said mystery establishment and it yielded two posts, so it's out there. Happy hunting. And please don't be the asshole who figures it out and posts it in the comment section thinking you're helping people because really you're just helping certain bosses. If my vagueness is really that irritating, just shoot me an email and I'll let you know.

- I'm sick, which kind of blows. I can't tell if it's allergies or a cold/flu, but it's something fierce. According to my mom it's allergies, but Becca and I have a little inside joke that our mom thinks everything is allergies. I could be like, "Mom, I've got my period" and she'd be like, "PSHHH, you're not menstruating; it's just allergies." I think Alex and I are going to check out the Cherry Blossom Festival Friday, so if that kills me, my mom was right; it's allergies. Damn you DC. You are beautiful, yet painful when in bloom.

- In the meantime, I'm all about Mucinex. Upon hearing this, Chris expressed some concern tonight that I have an "odd obsession" with Mucinex and I "talk about it too much," but I'm sorry—that shit works. Having the immune system of Tiny Tim, I've always just accepted that always being stuffed up but never able to blow my nose will always be a part of life. AND THEN, I MET MUCINEX. Absolutely nothing breaks that shit up like Mucinex. Nothing. It boggles the mind. I didn't even know what Mucinex was until my sister got sick last year and her fiance was like, "Duh, Mucinex. Ever heard of it?" And frankly, the McBlogger family never had. So thank you, sir. You enrich my sister's life and my nasal passages. I welcome you to the family.

I might really talk about Mucinex slightly too much to be healthy though. I can't talk confidentially about my writing skills or this blog to save my life, but I would happily travel door-to-door selling Mucinex if I could. Full time. The following was very seriously my ghcat icon for a significant period of time:

I'm not saying I have a problem; I'm saying I have a solution. (And for the record, Mucinex isn't paying me to say any of this. And even if they did, I wouldn't accept it because the relief their product provides me with is payment enough.) (HAHAHAHAHAHA! Lies. I'm so fucking broke.)

- I'm nervous because I can't take take a deep breath without wheezing and going into a painful coughing fit. I just really hope whatever I have isn't pneumonia or anything because I obviously still don't have health insurance and I think I wasted my one parent-paid trip to the hospital on when I had diarrhea. God damnit, I hate my life...

- I've been watching a lot of Living Single recently. HA HA, Maxine.

I find her witty banter with Kyle to be sexually charged and hee-larious.

Living Single is another odd thing I've begun bringing up a lot in lieu of office talk. I was at my friend Jenna's dinner party a few weeks ago and she was talking about how there had been a few break-ins in her neighborhood recently. I jumped into the conversation with:

"Oh! I was watching Living Single today and somebody broke into the girl's apartment."

::Silent stares around the table::

"Yeah...Queen Latifah got her nunchucks out and scared him off."

::More silent stares. I think Laura added a slow head nod to help me out.::

"...That's really all I'm bringing to the table these days, guys."

::Conversation moves on::

- Did you know that pigs can't swim and if they try, they'll slit their own throats with their hooves? I swear to god, that's actually something I told Chris re: what's new in your life? A fun fact about pigs. That's what's new with me.

- I'm super excited about our new advice column, Queer Abby! So I hope you guys have questions! Email QueerAbby@2birds1blog.com. W00t.

- Remember my story last week about American Dan? Well it turns out a 2b1b reader went to high school with him and emailed me his full name yesterday along with the fun fact that he just joined Facebook. I'm going to go out on a limb and make a bold statement—I am just as attracted to him as I was when I was 18, if not more. Yeah. I said it. And I am 100% standing by it. He's also still living in Ocean City and very much single. So there's that. Just facts. Just simple facts I'm throwing out into the universe and hoping come back to me in the form of flame tattoos...

- I have a note in my phone reminding myself to use the following phrases more:

• Feh
• Hambeast
• Hepatitis jokes in general
  

And again, this isn't me slipping into another edition of Thoughts I Couldn't Flesh Out..., I literally referenced this to Chris as something that's "new with me".

Overall State of the Meg: STRONG! Unlike a pig in water. BOOM! FULL CIRCLE!

Recrap Wednesdays: More to Love

Believe it or not, I've missed recapping god-awful television on a weekly basis. SO, I've decided to start recapping Fox's new dating competition show, More to Love (or as I call it, Fatties Need Love Too. I like to create my own direct titles for things in my mind. For example, I simplified The Curious Case of Benjamin Button to MAN BABY.) Here's my question: Why? Why did I do that to myself? My life is painfully awkward enough, why did I have to go and force myself to watch an hour of the most ungodly uncomfortable television programming ever? There are some things that are delightfully uncomfortable to watch (i.e. Meet the Fockers; Borat; The Office) and then there are some things that are just really, really uncomfortable to watch (i.e. Schindler's List; The Killing Fields; midget porn). This show falls in the latter group.

After watching Episode 1 of Fatties Need Love Too More to Love, I felt so dirty and wrong that I called my mom and confessed what I had just done. Her response? "Oh, Meghan." But she didn't say it in like a OHHHHH Meghan! GIRL, you so crazy! kind of way. She said it in a Your Mother is Genuinely Disappointed in You kind of way. It was the same "Oh, Meghan" I got when I called to tell her I got an underage drinking citation. (A situation, by the way, that I could not take seriously because I was too busy internally quoting the following from Clone High:

But that is neither here, nor there.)

So why exactly is Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, I Got Love in My Tummy More to Love so offensive? Well, to answer that question we need to take a closer look at what the show is really about. When I first heard about the show, I thought it was about a fit, single, chubby-chaser looking for love. (And I was on board.) Then I realized the bachelor in question is overweight himself, which made me think it was a Bachelor meets The Biggest Loser situation where contestants are eliminated each week according to weight loss. (And I was still on board.) Even after watching the show, I still couldn't really nail the show's shtick down. But I think after a lot of soul-searching and reflection, I've finally figured it out.

Virgin Parade More to Love is about a man named Luke Connelly (26-years-old; 6'3"; 330 pounds) who likes fat chicks. (By the way, Luke has the EXACT SAME speaking voice as Harland Williams. Seriously. It might actually be Harland Williams. Lord knows he's not up to much else.) So out of the kindness of their hearts, Fox put Luke and 20 fat chicks in a house together and each week Luke will eliminate one until he's left with his soul mate.

Let me stop myself right there. First of all, Luke is kind of adorable. Sure he's a few pounds over weight, but hell; I'd bang him! He's an attractive plus-sized individual. The show's host, Emme, is also a very attractive, plus-sized individual. Because, you know, bigger people (like any other people) can be attractive. But those other 20 women? Not so much. I'm not just being cruel for cruel's sake when I say this, but these are 20 of the most ugly, unfortunate, homely, poorly-dressed, low-self-esteem ridden, sad women in all of Dress Barn. Seriously. The show is basically just a whole mess of ill-fitting bras, bedazzled nylon, asymmetrical skirt lines and acrylic heels. It's like the casting directors ran into their local mall's Torrid, shouted, "Y'ALL WANNA FALL IN LOVE?" and ran with whoever was desperate enough to go with it. I get that the show is trying to portray "real women," but these aren't real women. Sandy from Iowa wore a bra as a dress and told Luke she was going to teach him to milk a cow. That's not normal. These are ugly women who were picked because they're ugly. The point of the show isn't to portray real women falling in love, it's to show fatties with no game crying about how no one loves them and struggle to get Harland Williams to fall in love with them. And that's fucked up.

Also, besides being ugly, these chicks are...just...sad. And I mean that in both a Sad State of Affairs and literally emotionally sad kind of way. This show is basically going to teach the world that fat people cry. A lot. Every second. Of every day. Want a recap of tonight's episode? Here you go: they all talked about how they've never been on a date and never been in love and no one's ever given them a chance because they're fat and then they all cried. A lot. The end. Again, I reiterate, these are not "average" or "normal" women. There have to be obese women out there who know how to interact with men! Get them! They're out there. I mean, how do you explain all of the brides on Bridezillas?

You just can't help but to feel guilty while watching (and subsequently laughing at) Lonely 'n Homely More to Love. You know how "normal" dating competition shows are so entertaining because watching a bunch of vapid fame whores fight over a guy so they can be on television is funny? Well let me tell you, when you replace those women with fat chicks with low self-esteem who genuinely just want someone to love them, it's really not as funny. To quote my mom, "It perpetuates the idea of Sad Person As Freak. It's sick. It's like watching animals in a zoo." Well put, Mrs. McBlogger.

Poor Luke also can't win in this situation. We all know his pool of women to choose from is busted on purpose. So when he calls them all sweetheart (which he does too much) and gushes about how beautiful and cute they are and how they're just his type and oh-goodness! he just wants to date them all, he comes off like a giant creepshow who's type is fat chicks with low self-esteem. And that's kind of...creepy...and off-putting. After Luke is introduced to the contestants, they have "First Impression Time" where they all get drunk around a pool and vie for Luke's attention. In true dating competition show spirit, making out happens. (To quote my notes, "He just made out with a chick and I don't know. It's just a lot.") Normally when making out happens within 30-seconds of meeting someone on a reality show, I giggle and think "Oh man, what a whore!" However, when it happened on Boners for Pie More to Love, all I could think was, "OH GOD, HE'S TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THAT POOR GIRL!...Slash, I wonder if that's her first kiss?" The show is just so sick and creepy that it's hard to decide if Luke is sick and creepy himself, or if he's really into these women and looking for love. Then again it's a reality show, so who knows what to believe.

There were some funny moments of the show, however:
- In the beginning, when asked what kind of woman he's attracted to, Luke says "it doesn't matter if she's blonde or redhead..." but because of his slurry, dead-pan Harland Williams voice, I heard "It doesn't matter if she's a big blob of a redhead." I laughed. Then cried.
- When Bonnie from Portland said, "I just wanna make a pie for a man and have him go, WOW!" I swear to god, rice shot out of my nose I laughed so hard.
- "I LOVE SKEWERED MEATS!" - Bonnie. Again. Bless her heart.
- Every conversation the girls have with Luke during "First Impression Time" is about food. "What kind of dessert do you like?" "What kind of food do you like?" "Did you know I like to cook!" Ok, Ok, we get it! You people like food! Move on! Get some fucking game. Maybe don't talk about savory meat pies for five seconds...
- During "First Impression Time," one of the chicks decides to jump in the pool. (I couldn't tell if she tripped and was trying to play it off, or if she really meant to jump in the pool. This was one of those moments where I wished I had splurged and spent the extra 10 bucks on DVR.) When she's in the pool she says, "I must look like a beached whale!" And then America said a collective, "Yep" in perfect harmony.
- One of my notes is literally, "I just. I can't."

After 45 minutes of watching the show, I was still undecided if I would watch it again. I mean, we're in desperate need of some recrapping around here, but at what price? And then they played the "On This Season of Starving for Affection More to Love" teaser. And oh...muh...god. They hold a mock prom for Luke and the girls. So they can all finally say they went to prom. And just like that, I'M BACK IN! Why? Well, one time I was walking to work and a man dropped dead in the middle of the street. People crowded around him and started freaking out, calling ambulances, trying to help etc., but I just stood there and openly gawked out of sheer morbid fascination. I was completely aware that this was sick and made me less of a person, but I couldn't help myself. Watching Kentucky Fried Lover More to Love is a lot like that. I have a sickness and I can't help myself.

So I'm sorry mom, but Recrap Wednesdays are officially back. Cringing and feeling incredibly guilty, but back.