wit

Life Rule #46: Always Keep Your Fat Pants From College.

Much like the time I came home for the holidays and instead of saying I looked great, my mom could only muster the phrase, “Meg! You look… different.”

And different, folks, came in the form of cankles, a beer belly, and one too many trips to the dessert buffet at the dining hall.

This past halloween was the first time I was actually happy about the fact that I gained 20 lbs freshman year of college because I spent more time face deep in the all-you-can-eat dining halls rather than in books.

I have since lost the dreaded freshman twenty and leveled out to my normal frame.  And much like other people who achieve a big goal, I kept a memento to show me that I never want to go back to that place.  Which is also why I keep the ticket stub to Panic Room, because I never want to revisit that film in my lifetime, and need a tangible reminder that I still disliked Kristen Stewart at a young age.

Keep the hate flame hot, kids.

Anyways, I kept my fat pants from college, the ones I wore when I was my heaviest, and put them in my pants drawer to remind myself how far I’ve come. I never really took the time to look at them, keeping them folded up and put away was enough of a reminder for me.  I absolutely never intended to wear them again.

That was until brilliance struck me in the form of me literally being the cheapest person on the planet when it comes to Halloween costumes. Sure, I like dressing up as much as anyone, but cut to the part in my life where I go to Costco to eat a free sample lunch so I don’t spend money, and this holiday goes from doable to I hate my life in three seconds.

Also, since I like to be a pioneer and slutty costumes are generally frowned upon in an office setting, I decided that the best, most efficient option for Halloween was for me to dress up like a man.

And not just any man, Rob Dyrdek.

I was a HUGE fan of Rob and Big when I was in high school.  My friend, Megan, and I would watch marathons of it on weekends and just die laughing.  They were hysterical.  Plus, my friend Chris was the perfect partner for this costume, so we would totally kill two birds with one stone.

I finally had a place to wear my fat pants and finally got to live out a day in the life of a male. It was GLORIOUS.

#methodacting

#methodacting

But the best part about this whole day was when I was a social media addict and decided to tweet at both Rob Dyrdek AND Big Black to see if they would acknowledge my existence.  Much to my surprise and all to my shock and awe, THEY DID.

Then we went viral.  Well, viral in my terms.

RD

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER – @meg_lago

We got both of them to acknowledge us and I don’t know how Halloween will ever be greater than October 31, 2014. It was a day for the books and one I will never forget.

Moral of the story is, keep your fat pants.  Keep that old, baggy sweatshirt that may come in handy when you want to dress up like anyone who wears a sweatshirt.  Just keep all of it.  Aside from it reminding you of a you you don’t want to remember (wait, what?), they could come in handy when you decide you want to dress like a man for a day and tweet at a B-list celebrity.

What were you for Halloween? Has a celebrity ever tweeted at you? Am I insane?

The Life of A 25-Year-Old Girl (As Told By Pie Charts)

Because what else do I have to do except draw all my flaws in geometric form?

Don’t answer that.

I’m constantly trying to find a reason that math is relevant in today’s society, because in my opinion, calculators are the shit and I don’t know how to long divide double digits. Don’t repeat that. Therefore, by all my calculations (no pun intended, but totally intended) math is stupid.

But then I realized that I can express segments of my life with pie charts.  I love pie. I love charts. I guess I love math? Did I just become a math person?

What do math people look like? Do they wear glasses? I have some. Do I need to buy a pocket protector for all my pencils? I don’t even have shirts with pockets. This seems expensive.

WHAT’S GOING ON HERE, PEOPLE?

Whatever. Let’s get to the good stuff. Here is my life in pie charts.

25

free time

plans getting readydream jobs broke money marshalls***

What would your pie charts include? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to feel more inadequate than I already do.

 

Five Things You Don’t Know About Pretty Little Liars

It’s not shocking that I walk through life on a daily basis asking questions like, “Wait, what’s going on?” and “How did that happen?”

But those questions demonstrating my ineptitude at paying attention to the finer things in life need to stop once I plop myself down on the couch to watch some prime time television.  That’s why I watch the news… sometimes. I need answers to all of life’s questions and the television is CLEARLY the only thing that will give those to me.

YOU HEARD ME. Not the internet. Not books. Not a higher education or a general interest in the world around me. The television will give me all the answers, I tell you!

Anyways, I was perusing the internet today (what else is new?) and I came across this article on Yahoo, and immediately wanted to stand up on my rolly chair screaming cats and dogs to the high heavens.

There's definitely more than five...

Click image for link to article.

Five things you don’t know about Pretty Little Liars? FIVE? JUST FIVE?

I can list off five things after one episode I don’t know, let alone the entire series.  It’s the LOST-esque television show of ABC Family, where you never really know what’s going on, but you keep watching hoping you’ll get answers.  For me, after season three when the girls were still being chased by some looney that was actually their ex-best friend who escaped from a mental institution, I somehow decided my brain was not at the mental capacity to deal with so many unanswered questions.

I can go listen to a lecture on Physics if I’m interested in being confused.

And really, where are the police? What is going on with law enforcement in these shows? I’m so perplexed I can’t even finish my wine. And that’s saying something.

Here are five things I don’t know about Pretty Little Liars:

1. How old are they?

The show is in it’s fifth season, and these girls are still in high school.  Plus, we all know how I looked when I was a teenager, and not to say I was the standard for all things grace and elegant, but I sure as hell wasn’t walking around campus in four inch heels and prom make up, nor did I have the ability to wake up early enough to pull off this hairstyle for just one day.

what is going on here?

what is going on here?

2. Where are their parents?

Seriously, I couldn’t even breathe wrong in highschool without my mom metaphorically placing a tracking device on my diaphragm. These girls are out in heels galavanting the night away chasing stalkers and murderers. Don’t get me started on sleepovers.  My mom had to call the mother, father, neighbor, and local bank teller making sure I was where I said I was at night.  One time she had a hunch my friend Megan and I were doing something sketchy, so her and Megan’s mother, unacquainted and newly in cahoots, met up, drove around my hometown under the cover of darkness and tried to find and bust-up parties to get us caught. RUTHLESS.

Do these look like two girls who would disobey parental authority?

Do these look like two girls who would disobey parental authority?

3. When do they sleep?

I need a solid eight to ten hours of snooze time a night or else I am not a pleasant person.  Ask my boyfriend; he doesn’t even call me after 9pm because he knows I’m either in bed with no pants on watching and solo-participating in Family Feud or I’m already fast asleep.  Either way he knows not to bother me. These girls don’t even get started until after 9pm. And hey, I’m a few standard deviations off from the normal twenty-five year old when it comes to sleep time, but I have to believe that these girls are just the slightest bit tired in math class after an all-night manhunt that may or may not have resulted in finding a dead body.  But hey, I guess that’s why they’re such good actors? Just putting a brave face on in the midst of adversity.

WE'RE GONNA PLAY, STEVE!

WE’RE GONNA PLAY, STEVE!

4. What is going on?

Really, this is the biggest question I have. What on God’s green earth is going on during this show? Are they safe? Are they not? When do they find out who A is? What is A? Do people always have different phones every month? Why is it always night time, fall, and raining? Do they really enjoy wearing heels when they run? Shouldn’t they be wearing running shoes in the midst of a near-death chase? I NEED ANSWERS.

5. Are dead/missing/undead teenagers in small towns not a really big deal?

Seriously. I lose a sock and make a bigger deal than this town does over a missing person. Definitely not putting Rosewood on my list of places I’d like to settle own and have a family. It would be a convenient place to go if I wanted to find creepy dolls though, they seem to have shops on shops on shops of weird Halloween-y stuff.  So actually, no, I won’t be going there. Sorry Porcelain, you ain’t my cup of tea.

Yeah, no thanks, pal!

Yeah, no thanks, pal!

What television shows do you watch that are confusing? Do you give up on them?

I’m Always Late To The Party.

Or maybe I just wasn’t ever invited? I’m not sure, but whatever it is, I don’t belong.

I’ve showed up at my fair share of parties without being invited. But the good thing about being the weird girl in the corner is that everyone always expects you to be the weird girl in the corner. If you see an empty corner, people are like, hey where’s that weird girl who normally stands there?

Yeah, I like corners, so what! Sue me. No, don’t. I’m not in a financially stable point in my life to accept lawsuits at the moment, so wait for me to win the lottery or become famous off a viral video of me eating peas at the kids table during Thanksgiving.

Does that even happen?

I think what I’m trying to say here is that I’m not really ever at the forefront of anything cool. I’m kind of a follower, which I know is super hard to believe judging by all my amazingly attractive #tbt instagram pictures. I had no clue that glasses without prescriptions are actually a thing people wanted to have.  I didn’t even know what a gluten was until suddenly people aren’t supposed to be eating it. And I still have no idea why Beyonce is ‘everything’ but we’ll discuss that in a little bit.

Here Is The List of Things I Just Don’t Understand

Heels: Maybe I have terrible arches and a penchant for faceplanting, but I just have no idea where heels rank on the fun scale. For me, it’s about negative seven-hundred.  Do I wish I was taller sometimes? Yes. But I also wish I had even boobs and the same sized eyeballs, but we can’t always get what we want.  If wearing certain shoes is something you have to “train your feet to enjoy,” then I want no part of it. I’ll be sitting over here, comfy as hell, wearing orthopedic fashion like it aint no thang.

Eating Clean: My idea of clean eating is using napkins when I’m stuffing my face full of cookies. If I didn’t spill on myself, I consider it a victory.  I don’t have time to learn what all those hard-to-pronounce words mean on the labels. I sure as hell don’t have time to actually grow my own stuff and be organic.  Ignorance is bliss, in my opinion. And I’m totally fine not knowing what is actually in a hot dog, because they taste amazing and I don’t want to be privy to that type of information.

Make Up: Do I always like my face? No. Sometimes I think it does weird things and when I see pictures of myself I wish I didn’t exist. But adding another step towards making myself look presentable seems like it’s going to end up doing more harm than good. Plus, it’s going to all eventually come off anyways, and there’s nothing worse than someone seeing what you actually look like and running the other direction. Gotta walk around this world with your God-given face, and say “Fuck You.” to all the haters. Or something nicer like, “Hey please stop staring at my small left eye, that’s rude.”

Beyonce: Apparently, Beyonce is “everything,” and girls “literally die” for her. If Beyonce is causing women’s hearts around the world to legitimately stop beating, shouldn’t the FBI be taking a closer look at this? It seems like an epidemic in my opinion. And one that needs to be investigated. Oj Simpson already got away with murder, we can’t have another celebrity falling through the cracks.

Whole Foods: I went inside a whole foods one time and I got so overwhelmed I almost started crying. The floor was practically paved with granola and the cash registers were made out of recycled tree trunks. I had no idea where to even begin, so I just left. Not to mention that the vegan soccer mom army was monopolizing the check-out line, so I didn’t have a shot in hell at making it out alive without buying something organic.

I’ll tell you one thing though, when the teleport gets invented, I’m going to be so early to that party. I’ll be that weird girl in the corner. If I’m not there, you know it’s not cool.

***

What are some things you just don’t understand?

I’m Not Going To Tell You How To Live Your Life, But I Will Tell You How To Make It Better.

Because I am extremely qualified to do so. Just look at my life, it’s marvelous!

And like most of my advice posts, this one is going to be heavily decorated in snacks. Because I don’t care what they say about emotional eating, it works, it helps, and it’s wonderful.

Calories you eat when you’re upset don’t count. Ask all the scientists I’ve paid off, they are forced to agree with me.

While my mother says the best way to relieve stress is to exercise, I beg to differ.  I think the best way to relieve stress is to take off your pants, get a nice, big bowl of something society would consider gluttonous, and go to town. I mean really, go to town on that bitch.

I don’t want you to think my life is great. I know that my perfectly filtered instagram photos and cleverly crafted tweets make it seem like I have it all together. In reality, I’m just waiting to go home, take my pants off, and dive nose deep into a jar of crunchy peanut butter using a reeses cup as a spoon.

Because no one really likes working. If you do, you’re lying. And if you’re not lying, you’re still in college. And if you’re still in college, you’re oblivious to the reality of obtaining your “dream job.”

And now, I present to you my list of snacks for all sorts of shitty occasions:

banana

frozen bananas smothered in peanut butter and chocolate

Fighting With Your Best Friend/Frenemy: There’s no way to evade getting into stupid fights with your friends. If it’s one of those really bad fights where you’re like, totally done with that betch, you’re going to want to serve yourself a big heaping plate of bananas smothered in peanut butter and chocolate sauce.  If you’re like every other female on the planet, you’ll spend your night spitefully wishing your ex-bestie is locked in her room wearing men’s sweats stuffing her face with Pringles and Pop-Tarts. But you’re going to come out on top, because while you’re not immune to eating your feelings, you’re going to make sure you don’t look like you got pregnant with Ben and Jerry’s baby over the weekend. It’s okay, because it’s fruit.

tequila

Break-Ups: You thought he was the one. But tragedy struck and now you’re left alone. What better way what to channel the horrors of a break up than by going shot for shot with the bartender man on East Ave. The night will parallel your relationship to the point where you’ll actually be happy you’re single. For instance, it will totally start out awkward, but after a few shots you’ll feel great and become more and more comfortable with each other.  Inevitably it will end in some bad decisions, and you’ll wake up in the morning swearing you never want to do it again so you can avoid feeling like this. You’ll learn some valuable lessons though, like never drink tequila ever in life and bartenders don’t make good boyfriends.

apples

apple sandwiches with chocolate chips, peanut butter, and caramel sauce

Going Back to School: Nothing says “I’m finding myself” like abruptly quitting your job and going back to school.  In the event that you may be entering this stage of life, there’s no better snack to help suppress those feelings of inadequacy than a good old fashioned sandwich. Relive your childhood memories wondering what you’ll be when you grow up and immediately come back down to earth when you hurt your jaw by chewing on a frozen chocolate chip. Life should be easy at this point, but it’s still pretty messy and that’s where the caramel comes in. Don’t forget a napkin, you’ll need it to clean up all those broken dreams littering your floor.

birthday cake oreos

birthday cake oreos

Getting Older: Every year there is one day in particular that forces you to remember you’re not as young as you once were. Whether it be a bad hip at twenty-five or your shocking inability to figure out simple social cues when you turn thirty, you’ll feel just fine when you plow through a sleeve of birthday cake flavored oreos. Because now that you’re getting older, people are going to expect you to start sagging in places that didn’t sag when you were eighteen, may as well give them something to work with. Am I right?

sangria

sangria

Quitting Your Job/Getting Fired: There’s not really a drink that says “I’m moving on with dignity” quite like Sangria. Whether you were involuntarily terminated from your job, or you chose to leave, pour yourself a big ol’ glass of wine with fruit inside and toast to some new beginnings. The wine will represent you, just totally getting better with age, but still trying to meander your way through those sour, fermented fruit chunks we call our inability to focus on the task at hand, clouding our vision of the future.

smores

smores with reeses peanut butter cups

Negative Bank Account Balance: All the times your mom begged you to save your allowance rather than spend it on the latest version of Dream Phone are all coming back to slap you in the face because you literally have no money. Without your parents’ support to pull you out of that financial black hole, take some time to indulge in a nice s’more. Because just like money, you’ll always want more, you’re just not really sure if you want to take the time, effort, and gather the supplies necessary to achieve your results. I mean credit card debt is totally in, right?

SIDE NOTE: Yes, these are, in fact, all things that I’ve eaten at one point or another because I suck at life a lot.

***

Are you an emotional eater? What do you eat when you’re having a bad day?

The ABC’s of Working In An Office

BangHead

I need this. ASAP.

You know, because since you’re not in school anymore, and I need to show you that the alphabet is still relevant.

Or something like that.

And since everyone will inevitably take the leap from sheer joy in college to utter madness in corporate life, I’ve taken the time to write down twenty-six letter-correlating words relating to working in an office.

If you don’t work in an office, feel free to take the this time to read some of my other posts that may be more relatable, email me about all of your problems, or maybe figure out a way to build me a teleport so I can finally get myself to the Amalfi Coast.

Here are the ABC’S of Working In An Office:

A – Awkward Small Talk. Get used to talking about the weather, things in your general area, or the G version of your weekend.

B – Bitching. Clients suck. Accounts suck. Creative people suck. Deadlines suck. Bosses suck. Mondays suck. Working sucks.  

C – Caffeine. Pick your poison, coffee, soda, tea, or tequila. Whatever it is, make some room for a full-fledged addiction, headaches galore that only some ground up Colombian beans can fix. Oh, and if you kill it, you fill it. Don’t be a dick.

D – Dress Code. From suits and ties to jeans and button ups, make sure you follow the rules.

E – Email. Don’t use a silly font. Be basic, bitch.

F – Free Stuff. Client gifts are the best. Who doesn’t love a free tray of cookies or an endless supply of hot pink camo lanyards?

G – GChat. It’s your friend. It’s your family. It’s your life.

H – Happy Hour. And the reason you get up every morning to make it until Friday. It’s the greatest time of the week and a final release into the wild weekend.

I – Internet. No explanation needed.

J – Jealousy. You will have so much hatred for someone with a better lunch than you.

K – Kitchen. Don’t touch my food. Label everything or don’t expect it to be waiting for you.

L – Lunch. Your internal clock will be set, and then it will be messed up. You’ll either eat at 12pm, or you won’t eat at all.

M – Mugs. And you’re going to be territorial over them, too.  Once you find a mug that perfectly holds all your hot beverages, place an imaginary stamp on it and let your coworkers know that it is no longer open for the beverage business, that shit is yours.

N – New Hires. Be nice, being the new kid is scary. And it doesn’t get easier when you’re an adult.

O – Open Space. Didn’t think you were a loud talker? Think you are sneaky with how many times a day you check Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and GChat? Think again, open space is the new thing, there are no walls, and there is nowhere for you to hide.

P – Productivity. Make sure you get your shit done and stuff.

Q – Quiet. Bring headphones. Not everyone likes to listen to Hip Hop classics at 9am on a Wednesday. Unless they do, then you should never leave that office environment.

R – Relationships. A good rule of thumb: Professional = Great Idea. Platonic = Good Idea. Romantic = Extremely/Horribly/Terribly Bad Idea.

S – Sick Days. Quote, unquote.

T – Teams. The people you work with. Hopefully you like them. Either way, you’re stuck with them. #GroupProjectsDontEndInCollege

U – Unproductive. And the reason that I wrote this blog. Be prepared for finding any and all excuses to avoid doing actual work, you never knew you needed to run to Starbucks more than three times in a day.

V – Vacation. Don’t you dare bother me with work emails.

W – Work Hard, Play Hard. A good motto. Don’t forget to have fun. Life is short.

X – This letter is stupid.

Y – Yawns. The two-o’clock feeling is real. Siestas and nap time is not.

Z – Zen. When you leave the office.

 

 

 

 

No, You Can’t Bring Your Life Size LeBron James Poster Into The Apartment.

My boyfriend and I recently decided to take the step towards cohabitation.

You know, living together. Under the same roof. Sharing a bathroom. Letting him have access to my Netflix queue. And mostly, trying not to fight about whose turn it was to eat the leftover burrito from Chipotle.

So with great decisions, comes great responsibility: like figuring out what will and will not make the journey from our separate living quarters into the one we will share.

All the sudden, I’m having flashbacks to kindergarten, my teacher preaching from the pulpit sermons of compromise and open communication.  I’m begrudgingly trying to set aside my dreams of having my apartment look like a floor model from Home Goods, slowly realizing that this step is something that needs to be taken together, bringing in elements and pieces from our pasts in order to build our future.

But that doesn’t mean there is going to be putting a nine-foot tall cardboard cut-out of LeBron James in my entryway. Not on my watch.

And in an effort to not totally deter all men from moving in with women because they won’t allow sports trinkets to sneak into their boxes, I’ve realized there’s a list of things girls probably should avoid if they want to make this transition a happy, healthy, and lasting one.

When living with your significant other, keep these things in mind:

The bathroom is a sacred place and he’s going to be in there a lot.  While girls tend to get a bad reputation for taking too long to get ready, boys have a tendency to spend the better part of a year in the bathroom with no consequences attached.

Make sure your bathroom is neat, organized, and promotes healthy cleaning habits.  With that being said, it’s probably a good idea not to have the main bathroom decoration be a collection of tampons of varying shapes and sizes.

Along the same lines, having a calendar is a good way to keep track of when you and your significant other will be in and out of the city.  You can each have a color marker and a corresponding color-coded key.  You’ll have so much fun adding all the different appointments you both have throughout the month if you have OCD, like me, or are just a twenty-five year old who still appreciates coloring.

This calendar, however, would not be an ideal place to mark when your Time of the Month is taking place with big, red X’s along with a corresponding color-coded key that says they mean you probably won’t have sex that week.

Decorating is the shit. I mean, girls practically pee their pants at the thought of bringing in new patterns, textures and colors to their living rooms. Moving into a place with your boyfriend pretty much signifies you’ve almost entered adulthood, so you’ll want your new place to look sophisticated as hell.

Decorative pillows are a fun way to infuse color into a room without going overboard.  These decorative pillows should not be in the form of stuffed animals that were given to you by ex-boyfriends on past Valentine’s Days.

Chandeliers are classy.  But chandeliers solely consisting of old Beyonce cds and candles you used for that seance at a sleepover when you were seventeen are not a way to signify you’re a high class broad.

Physically living with your boyfriend means you don’t have to have pictures of you and him together littering your apartment.  This does not mean you should have pictures of your exes around your apartment in frames labeled “Memories” and “Good Times.”

Coffee tables are a great place to establish yourself as a cultured, well-read human being.  Avoid having Cosmopolitan be the only magazine allowed in the apartment.

Above all, respect each other. That’s like important, I think.

Do you have any tips for moving in with a significant other?

The Five Ws of Beyonce’s Favorite Fashion Accessory

Because… what the hell is that thing?

Listen, I am the first person to raise her hand and let the world know I haven’t the slightest clue what is or isn’ trendy.  I can barely find pants that fit or a shirt that doesn’t make my boobs look lopsided.

With that being said, sometimes there are certain things that celebrities wear that make me stand up on my couch shouting to the high heavens, “What on God’s green earth is she/he/it/everyone wearing?”  And by sometimes, I mean pretty much every time Lady Gaga walks outside.

Growing up, my teacher’s always told me to do the Five W’s if I didn’t understand things in order to get a complete mental comprehension of a story, event, or subject.  And aside from the fact that I turned into a semi-upstanding citizen  without really knowing where wind comes from, I think the five W’s have helped me understand a lot of life’s shortcomings.

I haven’t done it in a while, but when I watched Jay-Z and Beyonce’s HBO special, On The Run, and I was slapped in the face with seventy questions ranging from Jay-Z actually being a semi-relevant songmaker to the perplexing amount of “What is that?” remarks regarding Beyonce’s wardrobe choices, I knew I had to break out the big guns.

Case and point, this thing:

Exhibit A.

Exhibit A.

So grab a pencil, because school is back in session folks and I’m breaking out the Five W’s for Beyonce’s favorite fashion accessory, the fishnet face mask.

WHO:

Who, other than Beyonce, wears this? Definitely not burglars, unless they are really not worried about the whole incognito effect.  This just doesn’t seem plausible for a high profile robbery when you have your face pretty much showing.  I could, however, see it being popular for lunch ladies, as hairnets are all the rage on the serving circuit, but this thing doesn’t even cover all your hair, and what happens when you have to sneeze?  SOMEONE ANSWER ME.

WHAT:

What… is… it? What does it do?  What is it for?  There are so many questions and I can’t wrap my head around it.  Do you wear it for a couple hours a day to get a nice fishnet face imprint?  Is that fun?  Does it make people look sexy?  I don’t know what I’m doing wrong in the sex appeal department, but if I have to start wearing a fishnet burglar-style mask to attract men, I don’t know if I’m really ready for that type of commitment.

WHERE:

Where do I wear this?  On the street, maybe on the way to work?  Will it work if I am on the slopes skiing? I don’t think so.  Maybe I would put it on after getting ready for a night out on the town with all my girl friends.  We’re all dolled up, hair done, nails done, everything did, and then the last part of our outfits are all these fishnet face masks.  I really don’t see  a gaggle of mid-twenties females all looking like guppies being a man repellant in any way.

WHEN:

When did this become cool?  I get the fishnet stockings, maybe even the occasional shirt, if you’re feeling frisky.  But I like having my face exposed.  Call me revolutionary, but the thought of wearing fabric over my face without the intention of going skiing or holding someone hostage within the hour seems a little ridiculous to me.

WHY:

Why? Just why?  That is all I have to ask.

Someone please bring me up to speed on this, or anything fashion related.  Otherwise, I’ll be sitting here with pants that are too big and my right boob looking slightly larger than the left because of this damn unflattering pattern.  I need help.

What do you think of Beyonce’s fishnet face mask?

I’m Going To Do Exactly The Opposite Of What You Just Told Me To Do.

Some people are born leaders, destined to sprinkle greatness upon the world their wise words, cunning sales tactics, and charismatic demeanor.

Then there is me. Staring into space. Not paying attention or listening to a word those people are saying.

I’m not saying I avoid listening.  I just tend to walk to the beat of my own drum when it comes to following directions or taking orders.

It could be the fact that I am one of the most stubborn people on the entire planet, or it could just be the fact that I think I know what I’m doing, and repeatedly get proven wrong in the matter.

Sure, I follow the most essential rules of life, like showing up to work on time and waiting thirty minutes to swim, but I’m also pretty sure my name literally translates to, “disobeying direct orders” in Swahili.  I actually do it a lot. It makes life interesting.

Seriously.  Who wants to walk through life just following all the rules that are set in place?  No one.  Unless you’re a rule follower, which is cool, then you would answer, “Yes” to the previous question.

I like to live life on the edge, really just walk into the unknown and see what happens.  It’s exhilarating.  It’s also extremely exhausting.  But I’m twenty-five, and I’ve lived this way for a quarter of a century, so why change now?

I’ve already mentioned that I lie a lot, so I’m realizing that airing out all my faults and flaws is not really doing a great deal for my likeableness; and I may be losing potential friends and/or life partners with each post. But I’m willing to commit to a life of solitude and desolation if it means helping other people not make the same mistakes I did.

PS – I am totally retracting that statement once I find someone I would like to hang out with for the rest of my life.

I frequently do not listen to the following things:

Sunscreen:

You’re telling me that in the three months that the sun is actually strong enough to turn my skin from transparent to any hue resembling looking alive that I have to put on a protective lotion to keep me safe?  Absolutely not my friend.  I will burn, and burn, and be in pain until it turns to tan.  Especially with a full-time job, I can’t not capitalize on using the world as an oven and bake myself silly.  Will I be wrinkly and gross looking by the time I’m 50? Yes.  But hopefully at that point some boy will have mouthed the words, “For better, for worse, ’til death do us part,” and this will be the ‘for worse’ part of our lifelong matrimony that he has to endure.

Speed Limits:

Everyone knows that the only time you ever drive the speed limit is if you’re doing something wrong.  Normal people go 5-8 MPH over it.  No one drives 25MPH for the sake of a white, rectangular sign.  You’re driving that slow because you have an army of stolen sloths from the New Mexico Zoo in your backseat, and you’re praying you don’t get pulled over by the local police because you wanted to drive at a speed that would get somewhere before an entire carton of ice cream melts.

Cooking Directions:

I honestly think I print out recipes for the sole reason of me being able to say, “No, look!  I even have the recipe!”  I never follow the recipe.  Tell me I need one tomato, and if I don’t have it, I’ll just throw in something from my refrigerator that is red and juicy, could be jello, could be cranberry juice.  Only time will tell.  The fact that I have had zero culinary training doesn’t scare me in the slightest, because food can’t fight back.  Potatoes and Special K aren’t going to be at odds with each other, because they are not alive (I think?).  I am in complete control, and most times, it does not turn out well.

Packing:

Are we just going somewhere overnight?  Cool.  I’ll just grab my industrial sized suitcase and pack enough clothes for a month-long, European backpacking adventure.  If it’s tropical, I’m bringing snow boots.  What if there is a freak snowstorm in July? El Nino would totally want to pop up on my Brazilian beach vacation and say, “Hey Meg, bet you didn’t prepare for this!”  Not so fast, you elusive snow storm, I have brought warm winter boots, scarves, and a puffy jacket just in case.

Touching Things:

Don’t ever let me near a red button.  I will push it so fast you’ll wish you were never friends with me.  I can’t go to any store without touching all the objects in the display case, and have even been known to knock down a thing or two in department stores.  ON ACCIDENT. OKAY.  Case and point.  My mother once told me not to touch the stove, so when she was boiling water, I moved the pot over and placed my hand on the coils to see if she was lying to me.  She was not lying.  This was the result.

Introductions:

I am so bad with remembering names it’s unfortunate.  Honestly, you can have the most interesting name in the world and I will still call you by your hair type and fashion sense.  Come on, parents.  Step up your game, let’s start naming people by what they look like, not what you think is trendy, traditional, or totally different.   In my mind, Johnny, is now curly-haired-striped-shirt in my name catalog.  Not your fault, just a casualty of being over stimulated as a child.  I couldn’t pay attention in class for the life of me – how am I supposed to remember a name as common as Mr. Smith’s in Pocahontas?

Anyone Telling Me About My General Health:

I should exercise more.  I need to floss my teeth.  I need to stop drinking bottles of wine on a Tuesday.  Yup, got it.  Wrote it down, crumpled it up, threw it out.  I just bought a case of wine from Trader Joes for $36, there’s no way I’m letting that go to waste.  And flossing is just extra work, I already brush my teeth.  What happened to survival of the fittest?  I am training my teeth to become stronger.  My incisors are rock solid, there’s nothing I can’t bite through.  And don’t talk to me about exercise, I dance a lot when I’m out on the weekends, that counts for something.  It has to, or else I’m screwed.

I want to throw out an honorable mention to fashion sense, hairstyling, and eating in public, but those will have to be saved for a later time.

Thanks for listening to me.

What do you not listen to?

Things I’d Rather Do Instead of Wait In Line for the iPhone 6

iPhone-6-meme-3

#FML

Get ready, world!

The new iPhone is coming out September 19, and your wallet is going to slap you in the face and punch you in the groin until you pee out all your money and you’re left with nothing but a thin metal device that fits in your back pocket and can dial numbers and text just like your old phone could.

But wait!  There’s more!

It has the INTERNET! Oh, the other iPhones have the internet?

I’m confused.

I was reading this article on Mashable about the lines that formed due to the iPhone 5s/c being released last year.  Kids, and in some cases, parents (which is more embarrassing), waited in line and slept overnight just so they can pay two-hundred dollars and probably not even use an upgrade for a phone that will be outdated in about six months.

Anyways, in lieu of the downward spiral in which consumer America is headed, I’ve compiled a list of things I would rather do instead of spending the night sleeping next to the resident homeless man on the city sidewalks.

Things I’d Rather Do Instead of Wait In Line for the iPhone 6:

  1. Actually sleep in a bed. I have to believe that sleeping on a concrete sidewalk next to a bunch of people who are overly-excited about technology, and haven’t showered, has to be what purgatory feels like. I’m also almost certain there will be chants and clapping in unison. No thank you. PS – don’t you work?
  2. Watch All Eight Harry Potter Movies. And honestly, I may not even have enough time for all of them.  I think the first person got in line last year around 7pm the night before.  The stores opened at 8am, making the total time voluntarily spent outdoors clocks in around thirteen hours.  Each of the Harry Potter movies run between two and a half to three hours, so thats only about half the series.  But hey, by the time I watched all eight movies in succession, the new iPhone will be out and I’ll be ready for human contact again. Bonus.
  3.  Read a car manual.  Some people like to camp in anticipation, I’m just more partial to sleeping in a temperature controlled apartment, not having to worry that someone’s going to jack my sidewalk block because I momentarily dozed off. So thanks, but I’ll take laying on my pillow-top mattress reading my Jetta’s manual instead.
  4. Get in line at at the DMV.  You know if that many people are waiting in line for an iPhone, there has to be at least half those people aren’t pre-camping out at the DMV waiting to register their cars.  Knowledge.
  5. Make an entire Thanksgiving meal.  I’d rather sit with a baster and play babysitter to a 26lb turkey making sure it’s cooked to perfection. At least there’s food involved.
  6. Complain about my current iPhone. By making a firm commitment to not buy the new iPhone, this gives me ample opportunities to complain about my current phone every chance I get.
  7. Go grocery shopping right before a natural disaster.  At least you’re semi-guaranteed to get at least one of the things you came for at the grocery store. If you are the loser that shows up at 9pm for an 8am opening, you don’t have a shot in hell.  Time to go home and pop in some of those Harry Potter DVDs, cause you lost. I may not have milk or canned goods, but I can at least get some Nilla Wafers and perishables before you get your iPhone.

Do I envy the people who will waste a night of precious, comfortable sleep to get it? No.

Am I bitter I won’t have the new iPhone? Absolutely.

But, I will bet you ten dollars that the people who wait in line for this phone are the same people that had those rechargeable Power Wheels drag racing down the street, one-upping the entire neighborhood.

I hate your commitment. But I respect your hustle.

***

Are you excited for the new iPhone?