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A thousand words describing my time spent locked in a bathroom.

I was nine when I got locked in a bathroom inside my own house.

And no, it wasn’t easy to free myself. I was actually, truly, really stuck.

The following is a (slightly embellished) version of how I was deserted in my own home, left to fend for myself inside a desolate, personal bathroom prison.

It was summer. The day in question was pretty hot, if I remember correctly. My mother implemented this rule she liked to call, “Amish Time” during our summer breaks. Meaning every weekday from 9-5pm, there was no technology – i.e. GameBoy color, Nintendo 64, AOL 5.0 – of any kind allowed.

The only exception to “going Amish” was when the US Open of Tennis was being broadcasted, because she wanted to watch that. I cannot wait to be a parent and make self-benefitting rules.

I digress. Since technology wasn’t allowed, we were reduced to remedial means of entertainment, like having conversations with each other, imaginative play, and embracing the great outdoors. We always gravitated towards the pool because it passed the time extremely fast, and it was always fun to have our mom rate belly flops for hours on end.

It was after lunch; all four of us steamrolled down the hallway and onto the deck. We waited for my mom to sit down in her chair under the umbrella, her idea spot for visibility and shaded protection, before we all made our entries into the shallow end.

We had been outside for a while when nature called. I had to pee.

There is a bathroom very close to the pool; yet for some reason, unbeknownst to me in the present day, I chose to use the upstairs bathroom, located on the opposite side of the house.

I approach the bathroom, go inside, close the door. Routine procedure. Until it wasn’t.

At the moment I closed the door, the handle on the interior of the bathroom fell out of the socket. From the inside, the door looks like this:

NOOOOOO!

I immediately freaked out. I look my new surroundings, there are four walls. No windows. A shower curtain and rod. And a door that will not open.

I yelled for probably eight minutes. Immediately after screaming at nothing, I screamed at myself, “WHY ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH DID YOU PICK THE ONLY BATHROOM WITH NO WINDOWS?!”

My screams fell on deaf ears. Everyone was outdoors enjoying the sunshine; a luxury I was no longer afforded since I went and trapped myself in this four-walled, shame cellar.

I was here, alone, stuck in the bathroom of my nightmares. After about fifteen minutes of wasted tears, unheard screams, and pathetic cries, I rescanned my surroundings for something I could use to get me out of this joint.

I contemplated. I saw the shower rod as a weapon; I yanked the curtain down from the wall with the brute strength of a toddler, and quickly disassembled the curtain from the rod. I had seen jousting before; I knew poles were deadly. And this door was my opponent.

Only I had no idea that blunt, hollow, metal poles were not strong enough to break down a two-inch thick wood door. I tried anyways. I took the pole over my shoulder and rammed it as hard as I could into the back of the door. There was a dent.

“YES!” I thought, “SMALL VICTORIES!” This dent was a small step towards freedom, and I quickly got into position to make another one.

I hit the door with the shower rod eight times before giving up from boredom.

That was it. That was all I had. No more ideas. No more drive. I was stuck. I wrapped myself in the shower curtain and cried. I thought about how long I could survive in there. “Probably seven days without food, maybe four without water.” I guessed, “But I have a sink, a shower, and a toilet for the worst case scenario – hydration was covered.”

I planned out my missing persons ad, “Girl locked in bathroom, gone for weeks before found.” It sounded sincere, I guess.

I had accepted my new living conditions, because I had decided that I may as well take a nap. Putting my head on the floor, and using the curtain as a blanket, I prepared to snooze the time away in my new surroundings.

Until I heard my brother’s footsteps. He was coming up the stairs; I was immediately filled with glee and adrenaline.

I shot up off the floor, shed my shower curtain blanket, and started screaming through the hole where the door handle used to be. “BRIAN! HELP ME. GET ME OUT OF HERE.”

He heard my cry and comes to my aid. “Meg, get the door handle from the floor.” He points to the handle on the inside with me. “Pick it up and stick it back into the slot where it was before.” I picked it up and did as I was told.

“Now turn it.” And so I did. Like magic, the door opened and I was freed from captivity. I ran outside, fell to the floor and hugged the ground. I was so happy to be out of there. It was the worst twenty minutes of my life.

After helping me escape, Brian looks at me and says, “Yeah, I came up here before lunch and had the same thing happen to me.” I was relieved I wasn’t the only one. “I just used the door handle and got myself out. Super easy if you think about it.” The sad thing was, he wasn’t even gloating. He was genuinely smarter than me.

I was trapped and immediately resorted to jousting my way out, but only after I wrapped myself in a shower curtain cape. Brian just picked up the source of the problem and immediately let himself return to society as a functioning human being.

After the whole ordeal, I still had yet to go to the bathroom. I used the downstairs one though, just in case.

Sole Mates.

Hey,

I’m going to be honest. I don’t really know if this will change anything. But everyone keeps telling me that writing is therapeutic, so I’m going to give it a shot.

I never thought this would happen to me. To us. It always happened to the others. I thought we were different. Sure, when we first met, we may have got off on the wrong foot; but being forced to hang out with each other made us fast friends. Pretty soon, we were inseparable.

We were matched up with each other from the start. It was our job to be together forever. I never went anywhere without you, and always made sure to stay close. Our friends were great, too. There were days, weeks even, where we’d all huddle up, clinging to each other like there was some sort of static electricity binding us to one another, but in reality, it was just destiny.

Sure, there are snags in every relationship – and we were no different. Some days it just felt like you were one step ahead of me, anticipating my every move. But the pace was far too fast for me to keep up, and eventually, I got tired, worn down, and defeated. I was cast aside, thrown on the floor, put in a pile to associate with others who were washed up, faded, and used.

But then you joined me, like you always did. We were the perfect pair.

Our life, although never dull, had its low moments. It seemed as though we were stuck in a tunnel with no light at the end, wondering when we’d both get to go back home. I missed our friends. They were so colorful, so vibrant, much more so than us. We were plain, but it was okay. We liked it that way. We went with the flow; not the most popular of the bunch, but we always got invited to do things.

I got used to spending my time with you, and at the end of the day, it never mattered to me that you were dirty and didn’t smell great. I should have listened during our arguments when you would constantly ask me to, “put myself in your shoes.”

Socks: A love story.

I guess what I’m saying is, I was selfish. I never knew that our time together would end so abruptly. I never really got to say goodbye. It was time for our monthly getaway, a trip downtown with friends: tons of water, lots of heat, a place to let loose and get rid of all our stains we’d garnered from the work week.

One minute we were holding hands, spinning in circles. A couple kids in love, enjoying the water. Next thing you know, I lost control, and turned around and you were gone. The pool was crowded, more so than usual. Must have been spring break or something. I figured I’d catch you when you wanted to dry off.

But I was the only one got to dry off. I lost you. I was left, and you were right – we never should have taken our eyes off each other. It happened for a second and now you’re gone.

I don’t know what else to say. I guess everything doesn’t come out in the wash. But I feel as though I serve no purpose. Life is pointless without you. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last. Even our friends have started distancing themselves from me. I guess they’re getting more time outdoors – I should be happy for them.

I will never forget you. You were my sole mate.

I hope you’re happy. Wherever you are.

Love always,

Me.

Not one, but five #BFFs

I don’t think you learn just one thing from your best friends, but a multitude of things.

It is impossible to put into words how important and instrumental these five women were in helping shape who I am today. There is something about the longevity of our friendship that is perplexing – because normally, putting five girls in a room together would almost always result in a sacrifice, sabotage, or slander – but we’ve made it past the point of petty arguments and low blows. We’ve survived, endured, and sustained.

I am lucky in the fact that I’ve had the same group of friends from third grade. We are all still close. Our friendship has encompassed the majority of my life, spanning twelve or more years, and continues to, for a lack of a better word, mature.

They were all there when I felt like complete shit. They all witnessed the most defining moments of my life. The all have helped me change, grow, and flourish.

Friends leave an imprint on your soul that no family member or significant other can replicate. You become part of each other whether you want to or not. I constantly find myself embodying little quirks that are only explained by going back to a mall, beach, high school party, concert, or a parking lot on my eighteenth birthday.

And then, there are just some things I do that cannot be explained by anyone or anything, and I don’t really know how to feel about it quite yet.

My friend Jocelyn is an acrobat and should be in the circus. I mean this in the best way possible. I swear to God this girl has more things on her plate than a professional eater. Yet, she always makes it look effortless. Her myriad of commitments span most of her weekdays, consume her weekends, and leave little time for sleep. Yet she is always the first one to pick up the phone and call me – just because she has time. She has taught me that there is a way to juggle all the things you need to have in life, and to do it with a good heart and good intentions.

Then there is Sam, who has, for the entire time I’ve known her, taught me to never compromise on anything. There is someone out there for you; it just may not be right now. They are called standards for a reason, and if we didn’t have them, the world would be a bunch of monkeys dressed in suits trying to steal your banana on the way to work. Go for the job you want, but start with the job you need. Always have a goal that you want to achieve because it’s the only way you’ll better yourself. Don’t change yourself for anyone or anything.

Katie is the most accomplished, and the one who has done everything first. She has consistently shown what it means to be an independent, self-sufficient, and completely reliable woman. Following your heart is a suggestion, using intuition is a requirement. It is possible to be truly happy, healthy, and successful in your mid-twenties. She is the perfect example of what it looks like to follow your heart, and still be able to live out your dreams.

Megan is living proof that beauty and brains can coexist – and not in the superficial, compliment seeking way. Staying grounded is the key to figuring out what you want in life, not just settling for what you can get. It’s a skill to fight through hardships, both familial and relational, and to do it with grace and sophistication. Some people grow up too fast, but in some instances, it’s a blessing that allows you to understand loyalty, devotion, and selflessness. Phrasing this in the best way that I can: I know that this girl would do some absolutely terrible things to keep her loved ones safe – and you cannot teach that.

Through all my terrible clothing choices, Julie has taught me how to find what works and make it your own. It may not be the most fabulous shirt on the planet, but if you pair it with the right accessory, anything can look stunning. Fashion intuition cannot be taught – and it’s something I do not take for granted in a friend. You need someone to tell you when your slouchy boots make you look like a homeless Pocahontas, as well as someone to verify that scarves are acceptable and encouraged year round, and boot season is something to be cherished, worshiped, and never overlooked.

LlamaLoveAlways.

Sure, there people that I’ve known longer than these girls, but none of them have taught me anything remotely as valuable as them. Five is always better than one. I think math taught me that. I’ve learned how to create my own style, live life to the fullest, never compromise, find balance within the chaos, and to fight for what you want. These are lessons that are so simple, yet so many people go about their lives without ever truly learning them.

I want to personally thank Megan, Jocelyn, Sam, Katie, and Julie for growing up with me, dealing with me, molding me, helping me, and above all, being friends with me. Without you, I would not be who I am today.

I love you betches.

…

26 Things the Grammys taught me.

THANKS!!!

The 2014 Grammys and malbec go together like wine and everything else every day of my life. Kendrick Lamar was robbed in broad nightlight. Revenge will be sought. So yeah, in a nutshell, this is what I learned:

Pharrell Williams gave everyone a preview of his halloween costume.

Guess I can’t be Indiana Jones this year. Damnit.

Kendrick Lamar is perfect.

I would have locked him down as my prom date and future boyfriend so fast in high school. We could have awkwardly slow danced to Vitamin-C’s “Graduation” whilst daydreaming about our future. Hey Kendrick, call me… not maybe. Call me for real.

Yes, yes I will marry you.

Rita Ora is my bff in my head.

Move over, Jennifer Lawrence, you are no longer my #1. Rita Ora just turned the imaginary bff game upside down. Multi-color packman nails? SIGN. ME. UP. Besties fo’ lyfe. Rita, have your people call my people (my mom) and let’s set up a time to hang out. Maybe we can go to an amusement park or I can be your +1 to an exclusive hollywood party in which I meet Drake and we get married… You can pick.

Kevin Hart is so small.

I didn’t just learn this tonight. But I did learn he is an entire torso shorter than everyone else in the world.

too short to ride this ride.

The term “baby bump” is uncomfortable.

Just stop it. Stop. Traffic terminology is not acceptable when referencing pregnancy.

Lorde needs to be diagnosed with arthritis.

There is no other explanation for the clenching of the fingers. I’m not even a doctor and I know claw hands are not a desirable trait to have. She’s either secretly practicing witchcraft or preparing for Halloween as an elderly woman.

Broomsticks double as stripper poles.

I knew witches and wizards had a little something extra with wands and pointy hats, but now you’re telling me their brooms are also stripper poles? Some people have all the luck. I see you winding and grinding up on that pole, Hermoine.

Headgear is on the cusp of becoming a fashion staple.

LL Cool J has worn the same newsboy hat since ’93. Daft Punk with star wars helmets. Pharrell embodying Indiana Jones. Zac Brown beanie swag.

John Legend looks like a cartoon.

Has anyone ever walked the earth as a living, breathing animation better than John Legend? A straight up cross between Cleveland from Family Guy and Gerald from Hey Arnold.

just an afro away.

Taylor Swift is the most loveable and hateable person on the planet.

Her dancing. Her hair flipping. I love her songs. I can’t stand her being so shocked all the time. She knows she’s good – own it. Stop being all surprised people relate to you.

There are only six awards during the entire show.

This shouldn’t be considered an award show. It’s more of a two-hour time block in which you get a glimpse into every single possible facet of music using only the most famous and/or popular people in each genre. It’s like going to a music festival and only caring about three out of the ninety bands playing. Waste of time.

The circus revival is not going to happen until Barnum and Bailey both give Pink a personal phone call.

I mean seriously. How many times is this girl supposed to dangle from a sheet without a harness before they deem her worthy? She clearly wants in on the Ringling Bros. GIVE THE GIRL A CHANCE.

Give this girl a job already.

Visa Mastercard is doing Priceless Surprises and I need to have it happen to me.

Where do I sign up and how much money do I need to spend to have Aaron Paul and Kendrick Lamar show up at my doorstep and hang out with me?

Kendrick Lamar won the Grammys and punched the world right in the eyeball.

Don’t care how long Taylor Swift sultry stared into the camera demanding recognition for her relational hardships, or how mysterious Katy Perry’s mystical forest was, Kendrick just performed in an all white track suit and didn’t suck. Done.

Kacey Musgraves is better than TSwift and everyone needs to know it.

When you stop complaining about relationships when you’re pretty, rich, and famous, and be less annoying all around, you have Kacey Musgraves. Get it girl.

The Osbournes need to make their comeback and reclaim their throne as reality tv royalty.

Yo MTV, bring back The Osbournes.

Go away, Kardashians, the patriarch of the metal head family dynasty needs to return to MTV. Ozzy’s presentation delivery was phenomenal. And we need more of this in our lives.

Everyone now knows what a nursing home talent show would look like.

Willie Nelson and company showing us , literally how old they are. If your grandma asks you to come see her performance in the talent show at Sweet Acres Retirement Center, just respond with a, “Thanks, but I think I’ve had my fill of adult entertainment for a while.”

The Storm Troopers made an appearance.

Oh, wait. That was just Daft Punk being Daft Punk.

Kristen Stewart has passed the awkward torch.

Lorde just stole that flame; just absolutely the most awkward person on the planet channeling Elvira at the Grammys. And…. posture. Learn it, live it, love it.

safety first. silence second.

Daft Punk needs to give a speech at my wedding.

I don’t care who I need to pay, or what soul I need to sell, it will happen, and it will be silent as hell.

Lindsey Buckingham made an appearance.

And Keenan Thompson wasn’t a part of it. I was praying on all deities for a What Up Wit Dat re-enactment. SNL for the win

Lindsey Buckingham Saturday Night Live May 14 b

the best.

Bolo ties are real, and they’re here to stay.

Macklemore, Bruno Mars, the NFL. Who’s next?

Madonna never left her music video.

In case you were wondering, the reigning Queen of Pop still thinks she’s in her music video for, “Don’t Tell Me,” cowboy hat included.

Kent Knappenberger needs to open up a restaraunt.

Mail it in on the teaching music. If I don’t have a Knappenburger with extra BBQ sauce and a side of onion rings by Friday, I’m quitting my job, renouncing my United States citizenship, and becoming a nomad (just kidding… unless it really happens). Also, if he didn’t win beard of the year award, it went to ZZ Top, and that’s fair, but I think they should do a recount.

pass the torch already

White suits are the only way to establish dominance.

Backstreet Boys did it in the 90s, and 2014 is bringing it back. Kendrick Lamar, Imagine Dragons, and Daft Punk all asserting their power over the music industry with full on white on white suits. Just a sweatband and an Adidas high top sneaker away from an NBA practice squad.

Daft Punk got lucky.

In no way, shape, or form should they have beat out Kendrick Lamar. But the biggest cop out is the fact that they received this honor and can’t even speak for themselves. I can’t tell if I hate them or respect them for staying in character.

… and now it’s time for bed. Malbec and Meg out.

…

DailyPost

Half and Half

half wit. half wisdom. a whole lot of nonsense.

daily post

A thousand words describing my time spent locked in a bathroom.

Sole Mates.

Not one, but five #BFFs

26 Things the Grammys taught me.

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