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Tell the truth, 50% of the time.

where's my snow day?

where’s my snow day?

If you were watching the weather at all this week, you are aware of the snowstorm that almost happened in Boston.

There were forecasts, predictions, and meteorologists swearing on their grandmother Pearl’s grave that there would be a foot of snow rumbling and tumbling all over Beantown.

Naturally, I thought a snow day was in order.

There I am, all snugged up in my bed, ready for an easy peasy day of working in sweatpants, and I hear my cell phone ring.

This is a sound that no one wants to hear at six am, because it only means that a parking ban has been lifted and it is okay to drive on the roads.  And unfortunately, it means I have to go to work.

I walk outside, and there is probably two inches of snow. At most. I am not that great at math, but I know two and twelve are VERY different numbers.

Two babies is manageable, twelve babies is an infant army.  Two cookies is dessert, twelve cookies is still delicious, but also a guaranteed stomach ache.  Two drinks is a Monday, twelve drinks is a Saturday.

What I’m saying is, the weathermen were wrong.  And this is not the first time I’ve planned to be a couch potato and had to wake up and run a marathon.  They are just unreliable most of the time.

Being right about 50% of the time is something with which I am particularly familiar.  But, I am not a weatherman.  I am a mere citizen relying on such information to prepare for my day to day commute.

What would happen if weatherman made predictions in other fields?

Pregnancy: Well, congratulations!  Strong possibility for either a boy or a girl at the end of this term.  Overnight, expect minimal sleep, and constant discomfort. Conditions are perfect for mood swings, obscure cravings, and swollen feet.

Referees: The momentum of the ball is covering significant ground.  Still unsure if it will result in a field goal.  Later tonight, fans will temporarily go insane due to a botched call, but look for a return in judgement tonight after a few beers. (There’s a 100% chance that referees are already weathermen due to the fact that they never get anything right.)

Runaway Brides: We’re seeing a pretty big cold front coming in, coupled with a strong set of nerves arising from the east.  Keep your tissues and your car keys handy, there is a strong possibility that your bride will be running to a warmer climate at 4pm.  #cuffyochick

Angry Spouses: Bad news for anyone who wanted to enjoy a stress-free weekend.  Unfortunately, there is no love or happiness forecasted for the next five days.  Looks like setting up a tent in the backyard is the only way you’ll catch some sleep.

Award Shows: There are rarely any surprises in this region, so be prepared to witness the same movies winning every single category. Be sure to stick close to your remote control, as you’ll want to change the channel pretty frequently.

Cafeteria Food: Strong possibility for grilled cheese and chicken tenders.  Also a large portion of the food will be leftovers from yesterday, or last week. Minimal chance for salads, or anything remotely healthy.

… hey, maybe they’d be more accurate though?

SNOW DAY.

Dear Boss Lady,

I will not be making it to work today.

It’s unfortunate, because I really wanted to be there. I even went to bed extra early so I could get up rested and ready to go.  I had already picked out my outfit.  I even showered.

But the thing is, I’m worried about my safety.  I have to walk. And the thing is, when it gets really cold, my right knee does this thing where it doesn’t bend like usual, so it is just really hard to get places.  I look like a zombie in the apocalypse, and people tend to act like I’m a leper.

My left foot also has this tendency to just not move when it snows.  It’s like I’m glued to the ground.  I call it Cement Foot.  It’s pretty serious; bodybuilders have been seen trying to move me, but I am a mountain. I know, I’ve made an appointment with my doctor to get it checked out.

Sometimes, I even think my eyes intuitively know it’s not safe to look outside, so they just won’t even open.  I have no other choice but to trust my body under these circumstances.  The best option is clearly staying home, wrapped up in my blankets, in my bed: snuggled, secure, and ultimately, safe.

During this state of snow emergency, it’s also important to know that I am without the essentials.  I will be surviving for the next twenty-four hours on the most basic supply of human nourishment. I have only completely sanitary running water, a sweet potato, five frozen meals, a bag of broccoli, and a handful of Lean Cuisines.

That’s right. You heard me, I have no milk. No bottled water. No non-perishables. and I’m pretty sure I just heard a scream coming from Shaw’s; they probably have a storewide dairy and minestrone shortage.

I also have a reserve consisting of two handles of vodka, a fifth of tequila, and six bottles of wine.  I just wish I was more prepared.

Also, the zipper on my coat broke, and I’m extremely prone to catching airborne illnesses, especially ones that are particularly elusive, or non-existent. I got hypothermia one time because I looked at a frozen carrot.  So, I’m taking all the preventative measures to not only protect myself from any harmful winter sickness, but I’m also protecting the office.

Thank you so much for understanding.  I’ll make sure my timesheet is filled out properly.

No need to respond to this letter. I’m going to assume you have felt the immense pain and grave danger of my situation and only want me to be safe.  And for that, I thank you.

Please ignore this picture and all others like it.

Please ignore this picture and all others like it.

Please be advised that any pictures of me uploaded to any and all social media outlets within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are strictly due to an unforeseeable technological timelapse.  Those are actually from a different time it snowed.  And I don’t drink during the daytime. Or during the week.  Or ever, really.  

My best regards,

Meg

PS – If you make it into the office and want to check a few emails for me, that would be the greatest service.  If not, no problem, I guess I can do that when I get better.  ::cough, cough::

PPS – I forgot to put socks on last night before my slumber, so my toes are pretty cold.  I may be on crutches and need a few days to recover.  More on that later.

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Remember when…

my dad put my mom in a bag?

and i wonder why i am the way i am.

and i wonder why i am the way i am.

In all seriousness, my parents are the best people in the world, and capturing moments like these make me realize how awesome they are.

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Things The Golden Globes Taught Me.

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So… want to be friends?

Aside from the fact that Aaron Paul was straight up robbed in broad daylight by Jon Voight in the Best Supporting Actor category, the Golden Globes were entertaining, and also educational.

Here are a few things that I learned while watching:

Falling in love with a robot is not weird.

I guess it makes that whole, ‘I can’t live without my phone’ thing actually possible and acceptable.

Spike Jonze is white.

Got slapped in the face with that bit of knowledge.  Totally unexpected.

Nebraska is so forgotten that it needs its own movie.

And it’s probably all fields, highways, and a good thing to take a nap while watching.  Don’t think you’d miss much.

Chairs/tables on the floor could probably be closer together.

The venue was more crowded than an Italian wedding. I’ve never seen more of a struggle than every single winner trying to navigate through the chair and table forest just to accept the award.  Spread out, people.

People need to take a tip from the Italians and shorten the speeches.

Let’s all make a collective decision to give acceptance speeches in a different language, that way you acknowledge the essentials.  Write a letter thanking the camera man, or Pizza Guy #2 in Drive-By Scene.  I don’t need to hear a novel’s worth of gratitude.

No one actually prepared to win.

Why is this type of unpreparedness not okay in the real world?  Can we all just start showing up for tests without studying, or interviews without researching the company?

Leo DeCaps is flawless.

I’d share my double doored raft in the freezing ocean with you.  Remember that.  I am not Rose. I care. I want you to live. #JackDawsonForLife

Exit music should be required in everyday life.

Someone needs to play music when I think it’s a good idea to call my mom at 12:30am just to ask her what kind of cheese she uses on enchiladas.  It’d also be so helpful for some tune cues to show up when I’m roped into talking to my crazy aunt Nancy about her multi-colored toe socks that she knitted with wool from her personal alpaca.

Woody Allen looks like the dad from Honey I Shrunk the Kids.

The broom and ant scenes were terrifying.  Totally wanted to be shrunk and eat an oreo though, would have been the best moment of my life.

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Rick Moranis

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Woody Allen

If you don’t see it, you’re blind.

Being Single Does Not Mean You Are Alone.

There aren’t many situations I encounter where I am in the minority.

I am at that stage of life where I guess I am supposed to start making commitments that will last longer than a bout of healthy eating or an attempt at keeping up with a gym membership.

But I am a late bloomer in more than one sense.  My body, face, and fashion sense absolutely took its precious time developing during adolescence and into early adulthood.

I am also not in any way, shape, or form ready to make choices regarding life-long commitments like many of my friends, coworkers, and family members.

This is where I find myself on the wrong side of the fence.  On the outside looking in.

I am at a point in my life where I am just figuring out how to support myself, cook food that is not poisonous, and make choices that won’t significantly impact how my skin looks after I turn 35 (yes, mom, I am using sunscreen).

I cannot imagine committing the rest of my life to someone.  I could accidentally poison them, and I am not ready for those repercussions.

I can’t even figure out how to stop drinking after one glass of wine.  How am I supposed to talk finances and and mortgage rates when I have ten dollars in my pocket and all I can think about is how many 3$ wine bottles I can buy at Trader Joes?

Objectively speaking, I am just not ready for it.  That is not to say that I am against people who have found that person with whom they want to spend the rest of their lives.

I saw my best friend get married at twenty-three this past May, and it was amazing.  When you witness unconditional love, it is truly a magical experience.

But people are wired differently.  If we were all the same at every point in life, our existence would be stable, predictable, and utterly mundane.  The idea that you don’t know what is coming next is fascinating, exciting, and makes life worth living.

I hear a lot of people complain that they are the only single one in their group of friends, like it is a curse, disease, or something to be discouraged.

We should stop associating the word ‘single’ with negative ideals.  It is not a deplorable state of being in which we are forced to constantly fight and claw our way out, knowing that a human counterpart is the sole way to reach complete happiness.

Being single is an opportunity and an advantage not afforded to everyone.   It is a chance to take risks, like moving into an apartment with three complete strangers off Craigslist.  Or a time to find out what you genuinely enjoy doing, like writing about how ugly you were in middle school or your complete inability to adhere to social cues.

DAD?

DAD?

It’s a waste of time, energy, and your face before it wrinkles to worry about not having a significant other.  Take advantage of the fact that you don’t have to answer to anyone and do the craziest things while you still can.

Ride a horse in South America with a cape and a margarita.

Because who wouldn’t want to live out an inter-continental alcoholic equestrian superhero fantasy?

Dress up like a Christmas tree with your friends and pretend every other topiary structure is your relative.

Because…. why not?

When you’re older, I promise it will be way more fun to think about when you and your friends held hands and prayed with three strange men in the middle of Boylston street during the Red Sox victory parade.

yes, that actually happened.

yes, that actually happened.

It won’t be so fun to think about how many things you missed out on because you were too busy wishing you had a boyfriend or girlfriend.

 Take heart in the fact that you can have just as much, if not more fun with your friends and family while you’re single. 

Embrace each opportunity and event and treat it like it will be the last time you’ll ever live through it.

Because the next time you are on Boylston Street after the Red Sox win the world series, you may not be with your best friends, but with your boyfriend, and he sure as hell won’t allow you to hold hands and say a prayer with strange men in the street.

Think about it.

Catharsis.

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happy new year.

2013 was that CSI marathon on Spike.  You don’t know why it hasn’t ended, but all the sudden it’s 8pm and you still have your cereal bowl on your lap from this morning.

Many times, I sat back thinking that the days were moving painfully slow; I was all too eager to jump into the next month or season in anticipation of what was to come.

I am self-sufficient. I was always able to keep myself occupied as a child, and even into adolescence and adulthood, I never really needed people constantly around me to feel validated or connected.  But this year, I moved out of my childhood home and started a bankrupt-bound adventure in Boston, Massachusetts.

I became independent.

Independence was different in 2013 than 2012 and before.  It was nice to move out and start a new chapter in my life, but at the same time, this year was one of the most lonely years I’ve endured.  I realized everything that made me so comfortable at home was no longer within reach.

I suppose everyone goes through trials and tribulations when they begin new chapters.  In all the books I’ve read, there’s never been a character that’s had it easy throughout the entire story.  And if they did, I was probably reading Dr. Seuss.

I learned to take risks.

Moving to a new city without a job is not entirely far from the realm of things I would do.  Watching my savings dwindle down to almost nothing after a month of unemployment was something I didn’t really account for in my calculations, though.

I fell in love.

And it wasn’t the way I planned it. I guess you don’t plan those kinds of things though.  For the first time, I figured out how to let my guard down.  I had never let anyone in before; I was barricaded by this crippling fear that I would get hurt in the end.

And then I got my heart broken.

And that didn’t go like I planned it either.  It wasn’t anyone’s fault, both parties ended up in the wrong.  It was a casualty of the circumstances and situations.  It just didn’t work, and I don’t even know if it would had it been done differently.  It’s the first time where after something didn’t work out that I wasn’t bitter, angry, or spiteful.  There was just an acceptance and appreciation of what was accomplished in a short time.

I broke a heart.

And that makes you feel like shit. I’ll be honest. Starting with a clean slate isn’t easy when you have a lot of baggage to bring along to your new destination.  It makes the whole relationship thing seem like a great idea, but then again when you’re doing something that’s entirely for yourself, the other person doesn’t really factor into the equation.

I was selfish.

And not in the good way.  I jeopardized and potentially ruined a very good friendship because I never cared about the other person the way that I should have.  There are certain instances in life where in the moment, it seems like an okay idea, but in retrospect, a lot of the issues or problems that arise between friends would be avoided if both parties just stopped and looked objectively at the situation.  That takes time and effort though, and who has that?

I lived in a closet.

Kinda still do.  It’s funny how growing up I always compared my friends’ rooms to my own.  If they could see me now!  I understand the value of consolidation and have learned to only keep the necessities.  It’s nice to know that I don’t have anything from PacSun anymore, and that I really don’t miss that sweatshirt I had since high school with all the holes and history in its sleeves.

I learned that things don’t always work out the way you want.

And this was the hardest lesson. The idea of moving to a new city with all your dreams boxed up is intoxicating.  When reality is just waiting until you settle into your apartment to come out and slap you clear across the face.  All these plans concocted in my head, and virtually none of them turned out the way I wanted.  But I also wouldn’t change the way anything unfolded.

I stopped planning.

Everything started to work out when I stopped trying to orchestrate my life. At the end of the day, I can only do so much to solidify my chances of obtaining the job I want, or being accepted into the group of friends I’d like to join, and start letting things happen.  I opened myself up to being bored out of my mind and not planning a damn thing, and it all just clicked.

…

Appreciating the unexpected wouldn’t happen if things panned out the way your mind had mapped it from the start. Being grateful for a perfectly executed plan would never come around if everything went your way all the time.  If situations were taken as is, lessons would never be learned and people would never change.

In a lifetime, a year can be insignificant at first thought.  But there will always be those gravestone worthy moments within each twelve month period that hold the answers regarding that scar on your right knee, that tattoo on your forearm, or that reason why thought it was a good idea to wear pleather to your coworkers’ dinner party.

Whatever those moments are, cherish them.  Because you only have one shot at 2014, and you better make sure your aim is on point.

You Should Know This For The Apocalypse.

This-Is-The-End-All-2-500 My mom was really into that show Revolution when it first aired. For those who don’t know, it’s a post-apocalyptic television show that focuses on a town living life fifteen years after a global blackout.  All the sci-fi mumbo jumbo and dramatic elements are present. Alliances are formed.  Enemies are made.  Friendships are tested.  But above all, survival is essential.

The show premiered at a very convenient time in 2012.  I was living in Connecticut, and we had just survived a nine-day electricity blackout thanks to that biatch, Hurricane Sandy. Having endured more than a week without power, I pretty much adopted a Katniss Everdeen alter ego.

I fully believed I could engage and win in a survival of the fittest game if it ever came to it.

Going over a week without a shower and blindly navigating my way from the kitchen to my bedroom after my midnight snack made me the toughest human being on the planet. My experiences helped me understand what it was like to struggle in an apocalyptic situation, and I wanted to compare my survival notes during Sandy with the characters on Revolution.

I was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, holding a goblet full of wine when I realized I was sorely mistaken in my assumptions about blackout survival tactics. Imagining I was involved, I had to think about all the great attributes and skills I have that would benefit me in certain situations.

I made a mental list in my head of all my strengths: I’m a good leader.  I can help people.  I’m athletic. But, the crippling reality of a non-electrical world harrowed on my soul to the point where I knew I had to make a blanket statement to the world about hanging out with me during an apocalypse.

I wanted to give everyone all the information before this actually happens. I know how it goes.  The world blacks out and everyone immediately starts picking teams.

My intellectual prowess coupled with the fact that I won Best Athlete in the 8th grade superlatives makes me an obvious choice for your survival team.  But I have to be selfless and realize that even the strongest people in the world have weaknesses that can’t be ignored.

Here are a list of reasons you wouldn’t want me in your survival group in the event of an apocalypse. 

1. I’m essentially blind. I have a contact prescription that is one point away from granting me a handicap sticker.  All you’d have to do is take away my glasses and tell me to head in the direction of a cliff or some quicksand and I’m gone.

2. I need at least 8 hours of sleep. I get really cranky if I’m not properly rested.  I also need white noise in order to drift off into dreamland.  I realize this is an issue because night seems like the optimal time to stage an attack, and I like to have lights out by 9pm.

3. I have a pretty strict diet. And by strict, I mean I eat like four things. Chicken, bacon, bread, and eggs.  I may dabble in a salad here and there, but only if there’s ranch dressing.

4. I can’t swim very well. If there is any sort of water obstacle that needs to be overcome, don’t even think about it.  I’m as good a swimmer as a cinderblock.

5. I’m not a good multi-tasker. I can’t even make toast without something sparking or blowing up.  Don’t even get me started on the disaster that would ensue if I had to run through a uncleared forest while simultaneously looking forward and backwards to thwart off attackers.

6. I have an atrocious sense of direction. North is always straight ahead.

7. I think I’m always right. Which I am. Obviously.

8. I’m not what some would call, in shape.  My stamina is not up to par, so running for long periods of time isn’t generally a good idea.

9. People don’t describe me as swift, cunning, or stealth. I don’t know how to whisper, my voice doesn’t do that.  Deaf people can hear me trying to sneak up behind them.

10. I’m not good at waiting.  There’s no way in hell I’m staying for more than a day in one place. I’m not even good at waiting for a song to finish on my iPod before I change it.

All my faults aside, I’m still going to try and tag along even if you don’t want me.  I’m sure there’s someone weaker we can cut out first, right?