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Leonard.

February 3, 2010 by Megan

Last night I took my first step as a downtown dweller and went to the local King Soopers. Generally speaking I tend to be more of a Safeway fan, but King Soopers works when it’s the most convenient option. I pull into the parking garage full of ONE WAY ONLY signs (because that’s how you do it in the city) and find a 5-star parking space right up front. I cruise into the store to be confronted with the most eclectic mix of shoppers that has ever been crammed into one urban shopping mart. Let me just tell you that there was no lack of cultural diversity for my viewing pleasure. Holy smokes!

I proceed to grab a cart and begin my shopping. I have a compulsion to always start to the right of a grocery store… and if I ever start to the left it is because and only because the produce is on the left. So I cruise to the right to scope out the meat department. I, like any red-blooded American, can appreciate a good meat department. Because, by George, the options are pretty much endless. I’m standing there debating between flank steak and sirloin for my fajitas when I feel someone watching me. You know the feeling I’m talking about? You’re not sure whether to be creeped out or flattered and then there’s the whole do you pretend not to notice or turn around and stare back at them with glaring eyes that say “get your eyes off my business perv”. So I decide to be discreet and just catch a glimpse as I leave the aisle.

My new BFF was probably 6′ 5″, around 60, African-American and missing a large portion of his teeth. His hair was grown a bit long and stuck out hither-tither from beneath his baseball cap. And, his eyes never left my face. I again revisit the pretend not to notice argument when all the sudden TRAFFIC JAM due to a geriatric lady that could not walk trying to push a cart (on a side note: more power to her for getting out there, but seriously?!?!) leaving me side-by-side with Leonard (let’s just call him Leonard shall we). Leonard is still staring, more like boring holes in my head with his eyes and giving me the benefit of his toothless grin. I glance over, accidently making eye contact when he says:

“You have the most beautiful smile.”

I don’t think I had smiled or been anywhere near smiling the entire time I’d been in the store. Maybe a grimace of pain at having had the luck to get stuck behind Gertrude my geriatric leader, but definitely not a smile.

I politely respond, “Thank you.” and presume that this conversation is over. It wasn’t.

He squints his eyes, tilting his head back in thought before asking me, “Is that a married smile?”

What the hell is a married smile? The thought of sharing laundry and a bed with someone will automatically cause me to radiate joy and smile at all times in the grocery store? What planet has he been living on?

I respond, “No, not a married smile.” and give him a polite smirk.

I have to give the guy a little credit because he was just not going to let it go.

Again with the squint and the head tilt… then you can see the enlightenment beam from his eyes before saying “Oh, a boyfriend smile.”

Just as I prepare to answer Gertrude gets on her merry way and I respond… Yes… and hurry down the produce section to hunt me up a few jalepenos. He followed me around the rest of my trip, gleaming at me from the end of every row. Oh sweet Leonard.

I have a feeling that we are going to become fast friends… if I ever decide to take my chances and shop there again.

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I’m the bees knees.

February 2, 2010 by Megan

Over the past year a lot of things have changed with my job. (Now, now I know you aren’t suppose to blog about your job because, well, that’s how you lose it. But, keep your pants on it’s going to be OK). I’ve taken on some new responsibility and let me tell how I have just knocked it out of the park. One of these new responsibilities involves being on the [drum roll please...] “party planning committee”. I know you’re green with jealousy and you wish I would just shut up and stop bragging about my job and all my great responsibilities already. Sorry, I won’t, and can’t.

This “party planning committee” consists of a few office ladies that like eating. We did a little something at Thanksgiving, then again at Christmas and don’t worry if you have a birthday that falls within the 12 month calendar year you will be having an office party (more for us than you, but let’s keep up the charade mmmmk?). Card, cake and embarrassing stories will be included. Now it just so happens that the majority of our office birthdays fall in the July – December range, which leaves us high, dry and treat free for almost the entire spring. I try to keep the menu to the local cupcake store and a few Frosty coupons nearby for when things get a really desperate and I have to actually pay for the treats myself.

Ok, so now that you know the back story and how terribly in need of treats we all are (not just me), you’ll only be able to imagine the joy I felt when I discovered one of my interns has a February birthday. You know what that means? TREATS… that I don’t have to bake or buy!!! So we started the planning, we decided on the treat, got the card going and set the time/date. I also, luckily, have the important task of rounding up the card and storing it until the big day. I know, not many could handle the stress and pressure of this extra responsibility like I do. Some days you just have to take one for the team.

The card, magically, appeared on my desk having been signed by EVERYONE. Not just a few folks, but everyone. This is a rare feat and I basked in the glory of the break I was catching for a few hours. The card sat there in the middle of my desk simply for admiration’s sake. Our intern walked it to my office (her birthday card smack dab in the middle of my desk) and I quickly grab it up and carefully balance it on the edge of the trash can under my desk to avoid detection. Sneaky, eh? I was pretty proud of myself, but then again who wouldn’t be.

That was a few weeks ago. So today rolls around and J (also on the “party planning committee”) stops by to check and make sure that things are under control with the card. I assure her that it was the easiest card round-up I’ve managed yet and that we are all set to go for tomorrow’s festivities. I then decide it would be best to pull the card out and make sure that everything was just so. I dig through my drawers calmly at first to no avail. After a few minutes of digging I begin furiously thrashing spreadsheets about in search of the card. Again, no luck.

It appears that my ever so brilliant self forgot to remove the card from the edge of the “never to be seen again” abyss known as my trash can. That’s right. I threw away our intern’s birthday card. I suppose I no longer have a soul.

As my punishment we have to send around another card that will need corralling, though this time there is a joke about my idiocy hand written on the front. Oh joy.

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Sarah’s Boyfriend & No Shame.

January 28, 2010 by Megan

My sister has a boyfriend… has had one for about 2 years now (or is it 3, who’s keeping track??). He’s pretty nice, helps me with making my tacky sweater sing, glues my sunglasses back together, puts up with my sister’s craft obsessions, drags my furniture all around Denver and doesn’t judge me based on my lack of singing ability. So, I’m thinking that we’ll keep him around for a while.

It has recently been brought to my attention (via my sister’s Facebook update),

That maybe I am a touch too comfortable with Kyle being around all the time. He’s more or less like a roommate at this point and, well, if you’re around me long enough the “don’t do that” sensor just shuts down. When I see you at all hours of the day, expected and unexpected I no longer actively think about what I’m saying or doing in front of you. It was this way in college with my friend’s boyfriends and it is now this way with my sister’s boyfriend. Whether this includes bringing up highly inappropriate topics at the dinner table or “handling” an emergency wedgie situation when required… not a second thought.

I don’t think it’s all that weird. I walk around the house in my  floral pajamas, hair Medusa style without any makeup and complain about that weird smell coming from the pantry in front of him so why not just let it roll?

Maybe you think this is a little strange, but more than that I think it may be a dead fire sign that I need to move the heck out. 6 months with the fam has clearly had its effect on me. Au Revoir, Ciao, See Ya! I’m moving out (tomorrow!!) and moving on. And with this I hope to regain my dignity and sense of boundaries. No guarantees, but I promise to try my hardest.

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Oily Explosion.

January 13, 2010 by Megan

You know, there comes a time in everyone’s life where all they want to eat is a peanut butter sandwich. This peanut butter sandwich may include jelly or honey or bacon. But regardless it’s a peanut butter sandwich. Variations can be made using almond butter, but personally I’d stay away from the cocoa butter if you have a choice.

I’m, currently, at a time in my life where peanut butter sandwiches (well peanut butter and almond butter that is) are a major priority. If I decide I’m having one for dinner… I think about it the ENTIRE day. Just building up excitement for the delicious party that my mouth will be throwing.  In fact, I’ll be having one for dinner tonight and, well, I’m already fantasizing about it. Some people fantasize about men with rock hard bodies rubbing them down with oil. I fantasize about peanut butter sandwiches. That explains a lot about me.

So last night (I had again predetermined I would be having a peanut butter sandwich for dinner) I got home from work and sat down to study (for the GMAT, did I mention I’m going to take the GMAT? No? Well let’s hope I am not a complete idiot because we have to share our scores out loud tonight… Um). After about an hour or so I decided it was high time that I reward myself for my hard work with the much-anticipated sandwich delight!

I go rummaging through the cabinets looking for peanut butter, check the pantry and both shelves of the lazy susan and come up empty-handed. I do, however, stumble across a jar of almond butter and my internal dialog goes a little something like this:

Hmmm, well it’s not peanut butter, but I think it will do.

<Pulls jar out of lazy susan>

Isn’t almond butter suppose to be refrigerated after it’s opened?

<peruses label for information and finds “refrigerate after opening”>

Hmmm, I’m pretty sure this jar has been down here for at least six months. How bad can nuts get? Well, isn’t there something with the oil in nuts going rancid. Man I bet this is rancid. Look at it.

<Glances at jar of shady looking almond butter>

Well, I’m desperate and I’ll just have to suffer if this doesn’t work out because I NEED my peanut butter (well it’s really almond butter) sandwich.

I then set the jar down, pulled the honey out of the pantry and got a couple slices of bread (white bread for the record). Slowly I opened the jar to see 2 inches of oil separated out and sitting on top of the actual almond butter… and I thought to myself “eh, that’s suppose to be there right?” and proceeded to grab a knife. I turned to talk to my sister’s boyfriend and stuck the knife in the jar to stir (or combine) my soon to be dinner when…. IT EXPLODED ALL OVER ME.

I had almond butter oil all over my face, in my hair, covering my clothes from work, smeared on my shoes and now dripping on to the floor. It was oil, people… greasy oil. I was suppose to be heading out 30 minutes later (after some more studious problem solving) and am currently covered in oil with a distinctly nutty smell. There is no way getting around it. You can’t pull the “oh it’s shine serum that went a little awry” line because, unless I’m missing something, shine serum doesn’t have an overpowering nut odor. I stand there stunned for a few second before yelling “Are you freaking kidding me?!?!” and run upstairs to shower. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten ready and had laundry going so fast in my entire life.

Needless to say I’ll be investing in some “non-separating” peanut butter on my next trip to the store. That particular batch of almond butter had “bad seed” written all over it and promptly had a date with the trashcan.

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Crying.

January 7, 2010 by Megan

I have many a friend that can look attractive crying. Tears seamlessly fall down their cheeks and it’s sad, but borderline picturesque. A lovely tragedy. Their faces don’t puff up, no one asks them if they’ve had their lips injected and their eyes fail to swell shut, leaving their eyes peeping out of tiny slits in their faces. Their makeup doesn’t run and their chests don’t break out in itchy, red marks. No one asks them the following day if they look tired because their eyes have yet to re-open — baby hamster style. They simply cry.

I’m sincerely envious of these people. They have something I’ll only aspire to have.

It doesn’t matter if I’m crying out of frustration at a three hour commute, pain at losing someone, joy at a joke that almost made me wet my pants. I cry. And, look like a hot mess within minutes. Sigh.

Posted in Daily Life., Irks me... | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

2010.

January 4, 2010 by Megan

It’s 2010, technically January 4, 2010, in case you missed the memo. I’ve been working on 2010 literature and planning (workwise) for 2010 since last spring — I should be prepared for this, but oddly I still feel a bit shocked that 2009 has ended. Where did the last decade go. It couldn’t have been 10 years ago that we were all convinced the world was ending and I sported a “Tommy Hilfiger Y2K” shirt. People storing canned goods and water believing that the end was near. I believe my mom used to fill old milk jugs with water. Milky, stale water. Gag. Now we have 2012 to look forward to… maybe that’s the scare of this decade?

So much happened in these past ten years it’s hard to wrap my head around it. 10 years. I feel like I should make some profound New Years resolution, but sadly haven’t found anything that really sets my sail. Here are few mediocre “thoughts” as I’m not quite ready to commit them to goals, but here we go:

  1. Climb 3 fourteeners this season. And try not to succumb to death in the last hour before the summit.
  2. Let go… I hold on to things a little too tight. Airline miles, drawings from when I was 6, and things from my past.
  3. Become more graceful. I’m going to take a stab at reducing my tripping, falling, spilling, and overall klutziness as well as try to live gracefully. Wouldn’t you agree I could use a little grace? Shut up.
  4. Work on my sensor. Some things that come out of my mouth (I believe there was something about Vaseline on my pants) don’t need to. I need to do a better job keeping those bad boys on lock down.
  5. Run the Bolder Boulder this spring… and try not to run like a duck because after the first, oh, four miles any sense of semblance will be lost.
  6. Make a conscious effort to be happy. Half the time it’s a choice. I’m choosing to smile and let it cause irreversible wrinkles.
  7. Botox savings plan for said wrinkles.

Ok… one can aspire to accomplish more, correct? Correct. Well, here’s to 2010, I hope yours (and mine) is better than 2009!

Posted in A Time For Thanks., Daily Life. | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

ESPN.

December 28, 2009 by Megan

So you when you first meet someone there’s always that awkward period. Feeling them out. What can they handle, how long do you have to wait before you can talk about _______, what sense of humor do they have, how open can you get them to be etc. It’s a part of starting any friendship, relationship, partnership or whatever else you may be creating. So I’m in the car the other day, getting directions from someone in the passenger seat. Because I had not a clue where the heck I was going. I randomly got in the left turn lane before I, again, realized I had no freaking idea where I was going and was at that point just making up my own directions.

So I asked, “Um, looks like we’re going left… is this right because I’m just making things up”.

They reply, “Yes, that works, we do need to go left”.

So, me, being the witty person that I am… and also the person who finds their own jokes borderline hilarious decides to reference Mean Girls and say, “Wow, I must have ESPN or something”. Then it dawns on me that there’s a chance that not everyone in the world has seen Mean Girls and that I might have just made myself sound like the biggest idiot in the world. Intelligence is key. So I try to back track and things just got awkward. It went a little something like this:

Me (in my head): That was a good one Megan, good work. Haha. <Insert moment of pride>. Wait. Do you think they’ve seen Mean Girls? What are the chances that they haven’t seen Mean Girls. Probably pretty low. Crap, you’re an idiot. Ok, ok how do you make yourself not sound like a moron?

Me (outloud): “Uh, you know I meant ESP right? That ESPN line was from Mean Girls, I’m not that stupid. I just didn’t know if you’d seen it and didn’t want you to think I was a complete idiot, because, of course, I know it’s ESP and not ESPN… I mean it’s obvious right?

And their reply: “Oh yeah, I’ve seen that”.

The End.

Should have just left it alone… but no I had to go and make things more awkward and sound like an even bigger idiot than if I had just left it at ESPN. Go me.

Posted in Just another embarrassing moment. | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment »

Wassailing.

December 24, 2009 by Megan

My friend Kaitlyn lives in Indiana… and she has brought to my attention the art of Wassailing. Now, I live in Colorado and have never heard of such, Wassailing, in all my years (except in a few select Christmas numbers). Ahem:

Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a-wand’ring
So fair to be seen.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail, too,
And God bless you, and send you
A Happy New Year,
And God send you a Happy New Year.

- Here We Come A-Wassailing

For those of you that don’t know (I was one of you only a day ago), how Wassailing works , according to Kaitlyn is “we go to a house, sing and then go in for an hour and eat/drink/socialize before moving to the next”. This may not be the “classic” definition, but it’s there’s and I like it. Kaitlyn’s night went a little something like this:

House 1: Wine! Good Start!

House 2: Singing “Deck the Halls” and shaking Jingle Bells. Lots of food, Lindt chocolate and bubbly or beer!

House 3: Singing “Jingle Bells”… more food and a variety of alcohol.

– Updates sent via text message throughout the night for the sole purpose of making me insanely jealous.

Seeing as the Christmas spirit has all together skipped me this year, I think the one thing that could have saved me was Wassailing. I mean, really, I’m not so into public singing, as dogs are the only ones that can hear me and occassionally a window shatters. But really, on Christmas, who cares about the details. I’m sure I could be persuaded with a glass of wine and some Lindt chocolate to do just about anything, including sing. And, if by chance I won’t sing at the first house… a glass of wine will surely have me singing by the second. Right? Then a glass of bubbly and I’ll be belting out “All I Want For Christmas Is You” by the third.

Now, don’t go getting all crazy here. I’m not planning or dreaming of  singing songs about Christmas intoxicated. Not cool, being Christmas and all. But you know a glass of wine here, a hot toddy there, can’t hurt.

So, here’s to Wassailing, the lost art form at Christmas that I believe needs to be re-instated. Looks like I have a WHOLE year to plan. Food, drink, social festivities and singing like an idiot. All things I enjoy. Wassailing 2010 here I come.

Posted in Simply Delightful. | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Time To Get Tacky!

December 20, 2009 by Megan

I’m a big fan of comfort. I could live in sweatpants, shorts, pajamas, running skirts amongst a few other things. So soft, flowy, amazing. Now imagine my delight when I discovered that Christmas 2009 was going to involve a tacky sweater party. Because who doesn’t love a party that is based solely on comfort and tackiness? I have been elated and probably overly excited for the past month and a half. Part of this joy came from knowing my tacky sweater was going to put many others to shame. Shame I tell you. Not only was it tacky (because tacky it was), but it also played an array of Christmas tunes. I made everyone listen… which apparently looked like I was making them smell my sweater. Not awkward at all.

I decided that if you’re going to a tacky sweater party you have to do it right. No half-assing it for me. I decided to let Christmas throw up on me for a night and call it sexy. I’ve personally never been so attracted to myself. Amidst the madness and mayhem I forgot to get a full body shot… so you’ll have to do with the top half. In addition to the upper body amazingness I also had on knee high red/green striped socks with pom poms hanging down the side and fuzzy Christmas slippers. I realize that my description may cause some to feel intense feelings of attraction, but please try to restrain yourself. Check me out:

Ashlyn, Me and Jacqui (Schmacqui) getting tackified!

There was also a white elephant  and a plethora of wine to be had. At one point “Mr. Wee Wee” or whatever he is really called made an appearance. I surprised more than a few people and entertained comments about face peeing for the next several hours…

It was one amazing night all the way around.

Posted in Just another embarrassing moment., Simply Delightful. | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments »

Amazonian Update.

December 19, 2009 by Megan

Update! (original here)

Last weekend I attended a “classy” Christmas party… involving a cocktail-ish dress and some big ‘ol heels. I was totally rocking it. Didn’t feel like a half-naked beast one bit. BUT, last night at my friend’s tacky sweater party someone made this comment about my height to my littlest sister. Now he may have been hitting on her, and she does have a boyfriend who was present, but nonetheless:

Random Guy: Your sister is a giant. <pause> Last week she was wearing heels and WHOA she was just staring down a the top of my head. <pause> <pause> Now, you… you’re just the right size.

For starters, what guy in the right mind starts hitting on one sister by insulting the other? Anyone, anyone? And two, I’m a giant? Rude. Maybe next time I’m staring down at the top of his head I’ll conveniently mention his need for a moisturizing scalp shampoo, because whatever he was using surely wasn’t doing the trick.

P.S. Tacky sweater photos coming soon.

Posted in Irks me... | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments »

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