Halloween: The Origins of Creepy Meg

YO. Let's talk about Halloween. 

It's a magical time of candy and costumes and trickery and candy and Harry Potter and candy. Marathons of scary movies and pumpkin-flavored anything are some of the fabulous perks of this hallowed holiday, but the Big Kahuna for me is that you get to scare the bejesus out of your friends and family for a whole month and blame it on Full Moons, Satan, and the souls of the dead. Fun, right?!?

Sorry Dad, the Devil told me to hide under your bed and pinch your ankles as you're getting ready for work.... 
Whats that? No Dad, Satan doesn't care that I'm 24 years old.....Evil is Evil.  

Between hiding under beds and chasing people around in the dark making my first-class Gollum impression, I would say Halloween is a close runner up for my favorite holiday. With a Blog title such as "Taco Therapy" I don't think I would have to explain to anyone what my favorite holiday is, but for those of you who aren't quick on the uptake I'll settle this once and for all. 

It's Groundhog Day.

I sometimes find myself feeling nostalgic around this time of year and I think of my childhood: haunted houses, hayrides, watching "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown," and trick or treating with my friends. But then I remember things like bobbing for apples and how disgusting of a concept that is and am brought back to reality. I'll stick to my grown up activities like drinking seasonal beer and carving pumpkins (with REAL KNIVES and not that plastic crap).

For all the joy that Halloween brings, it also means stressing over what costume you're going to wear as you're bar hopping or attending a house party. Lucky for you I am a Creative Counselor and have developed this quick and easy survey to determine the appropriate costume to fit your needs.

Take the Meg-o-Matic Halloween Costume Quiz NOW!

 

The possibilities are endless. If you aren't happy with your results, send me a comment and I'll think of something personally for you.  

I would, however, like to note that I am truly appalled at the types of innocent costumes that have been transformed into what is basically female bedroom lingerie. We're talking about taking Disney and Sesame Street characters and turning them into pornographic material.

NOW SETTLE DOWN BOYS. I can tolerate the classic "sexy nurse" and "sexy police officer" costumes. Those have been around forever and aren't going anywhere. But I literally just Googled "Sexy Carrot Costume" and now I understand why terrorists hate us. We as a nation have failed when you can search the words sexy, toilet, and costume and come up with an image of a half naked girl scantily wrapped in Charmin Ultra. Ladies, the boys will love it but you know who doesn't love it? JESUS. 
And your poor mother who is weeping as she scrolls down Facebook wondering where she went wrong and if this all could have been avoided if she would have just let you dress up as Joseph Stalin that one year in 4th grade and eat the sticky candy when you had your braces on. Get your damn clothes on!!!

For the record, I think we all know that this is the type of sexy carrot costume YOURS TRULY would don at a Halloween party. 

Hey honey, ORANGE you glad I look sexy tonight? 

Once I got to the "Sexy Honey Badger" costume I officially gave up on America. Like, come on guys....what in the actual hell. Does anyone KNOW what a honey badger looks like?? It's scary!! There's nothing sexy about a honey badger. It looks like an evil skunk. I'm at a point in my life where if I'm going to look like a rodent, I'm going to look like a rodent, so that costume clearly isn't up my alley. 

Real-life Honey Badger.  Not so sexy now, IS IT GIRLS?!

Whatever your plans may be this Halloween, let's all commit to celebrating responsibly. And by that I mean eating your weight in Butterfingers and Milk Duds. 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!  

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The 15 Dos and Donts of Going on a First Date

Having had my fair share of first dates, I thought it would be helpful to share some of my insights and very own dos/donts of dating. Ladies, if you have ANY hope of achieving a second date, pay close attention as I'm sure my personal failures could lead to your personal success.

1. Do brush your teeth and make sure that toothpaste residue has been completely removed from your face. 
2. Do not wear a shirt that says 'Senors Rule' and has a Mexican mariachi band playing on it.
3. Do remember to shave your legs so as not to be mistaken for a cat roaming under the table. 
4. Do ask your date questions about themselves. If you're lucky, this will hopefully avoid any and all questions about yourself which could potentially make your date run for the door. 
5. If you have to share information about yourself or your interests, do be honest with your date. For instance, do not tell your date that you love running if you can barely make it to the mailbox without feeling faint. Being invited to run with him will be embarrassing. Very, very embarrassing. 
6. Do look in the mirror before you leave the house. For godsake people, please. If you walk away from this with anything please remember this. You could have pizza stains on your shirt. Or a price-tag. Or both. 
7. Do not decline mozzarella sticks as an appetizer and bring up the story about how in the 7th grade you were choking on an extra-stringy grilled cheese and your mom had to pull the cheese out of your throat with her bare hands. 
8. Do not order BBQ ribs, even if they look and smell delicious. I promise you that you will look like a savage.
9. Do not get defensive and cause a scene over which Star Wars movie is best. Save this for the 3rd or 4th date. Or never. Never would be best. 
10. Do make sure there is actually a straw in your drink before you play mouth games with the air.
11. Do not desperately cry out 'MAN OVERBOARD' if your tater tot falls off your plate and onto the floor. 
12. If he/she asks you what you like to do for fun, do not drop your utensils and make fart noises with your hands. 
13. Do offer to pay even if you know your date is going to pick up the tab. It's a nice gesture and also let's your date know you got monaaaaaayyyyy.

14. If you're unsure about the Goodbye, don't get nervous and high five your date.  

15. And finally do NOT under any circumstances make gun holster gestures with your hands and 'shoot' your date as they are dropping you off....

Ladies, good luck and god speed. 

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The Real Reason Girls "LITERALLY CAN'T EVEN"

We've seen it on TV, we've read it on internet memes, and we've heard it outside Abercrombie and Fitch stores nationwide. Teen girls are struggling and they are making it known to the world - They literally CAN'T EVEN. 

"Oh my god. The limited edition Starbucks Ugg boots are sold out. I can't even." 

"That boy from Math class is so adorbs. I can't even."

"Can you EVEN IMAGINE a fifty-shades of gray vampire movie starring Channing Tatum?? No, actually, I can't. I literally can't even."

Well Kiersten, when CAN you even? We don't have all day. 

(Out of curiosity I googled "Channing Tatum Vampire" and this was the first result. Clearly girls HAVE been imagining this and therefore we as a gender are doomed). 

Dear John? More like Dear DRACULA.

But it's not just the teenage girl squads who are the offenders. This incomplete sentence structure is plaguing more highly educated circles of women. I admit that I, too, am guilty of having used the phrase in situations where I could not fully comprehend and express my thoughts and emotions.

"Did you REALLY just eat my leftovers?!?! You know what ... I can't even."

"Yooooo that fat baby looks like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. I can't even."

"HAHAHA did you see that child on a leash try to escape from his parents!?!? I literally can't even."

Some users/abusers of the phrase have begun to mix it up in order to keep it relevant and fresh (which I'm assuming kids these days spell with a Ph --- PHRESH): 

I can't even. 
I am unable to even. 
I have lost my ability to even.  

That last one sounds like some sort of medical condition. I wouldn't be surprised if foreigners who hear this for the first time are concerned that millions of girls and women across the United States are plagued with a new disease that is impairing our mental and physical abilities. 

"Hans, girls in the United States are losing their ability to even. We better hold off on our vacation to Disney World with Hilga and Wolfgang until they develop a vaccination!!"

"Holy SCHNIT-zel!! That sounds serious!!" 

 (I was going to make a joke about it being the brat-worst but realized I literally could not even). 

We can all agree that the general female population is suffering. We're angry. We're amused. We're confused. It's no wonder we're on the brink of emotional instability and/or punching someone in the face. But I'm here to tell you that the real reason girls literally can't even is because we've got too much shit to do and we don't have time to be worrying about whatever it is we're supposed to "even." Either that or we really are all chemically imbalanced, certifiably crazy and have lost control of our lives. Maybe years from now with advancements in science and technology we can all live in a world where girls WOULD be able to even. Hope Today for a Brighter Tomorrow. 

In the meantime, here is a short list I compiled of alternative phrases which you can substitute in practically any situation:

1. This is the best/worst day of my life
2. Mother of mercy.
3. The apocalypse has begun.
4. Doomsday is near. 
5. I would donate my mint condition collection of beanie-babies to make that happen. 
6. Gettin' that fo sho.
7. I want to whack ______ over the head with a pillowcase full of doorknobs.
8. I'm going to cause a stir.
9. MORE WINE.
10. Ain't nobody got time for this. 
11. What in the F
12. Paint me like one of your French girls. 
13. Take me now Jesus.
14. I would rather hear my leg being sawed off than listen to this BS. 
15. And that's the way the cookie crumbles. 
16. I know violence isn't the answer but .... yes it is. 
17. Great balls of fire! 
18. Whatever let's go to Taco Bell. 

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I've got a fever, and the only prescription is more Cheetos.

I always knew I had a sensitive side, so I figured I would share one of my many creative talents with you. As you all know, I am dangerously good at eating. I am also good at making things rhyme, so below please enjoy my Ode to Cheetos.

An Ode to Cheetos

by Meghan Earnest

 I am hangry and borderline violent as I power walk to the vending machine

No time to mess around - I know which buttons to hit

"A3" is forever tattooed into my memory

A forbidden love that I just can't quit. 

You fall to your death but my heart skips a beat

It's been too long (24 hours) since I've had you last

I rip open the bag in sociopath-like desperation

I can no longer hold back the tears that have amassed. 

My face lights up at the sight of your orangey-glow

I nearly black out after shoving a handful in my face

"Cheese Flavored Snacks" is my mantra for life 

An uncontrollable obsession that I will never replace 

Only 21 grams of fat - Holy S. What the hell?!?

I should actually probably watch how often I eat these

Who am I kidding, nothing can stop me

Chester the Cheetah, GIVE ME MORE PREASE.  

Boys find this attractive. I beat them off with a stick. 

They swoon over my orange fingers. 

 Is that perfume you're wearing? HA. You could say that.

It's the scent of processed cheese that lingers.  

Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. 

Teach a man to fish and he'll eat for a year. 

Give Meghan a bag of Cheetos. 

And she'll destroy it in less than 20 seconds.

For your viewing pleasure, below is a video taken a few weeks ago of Emily eating MY family sized bag of Cheetos. She's lucky there weren't more severe consequences...

For reference, we had been looking at a picture of Joe Miller when he used to be chubby which is why we are laughing (I had also lost my voice which is 20% of the reason why I sound like a man).

Please take a moment to appreciate the animalistic growl I make when she won't share with me.

Cheeto Craziness (For those who cant open on their phones I went the extra mile). 

"You know better than to hide Cheetos from me." 

Spoken like a true freak.

Also indicative that I had tried to teach her this lesson before ...

 I was going to make a joke about her being a gremlin but forgot what was bad about them. I just Google searched "What happens if you feed gremlins after midnight." The answer I got from "StraightDope.com" is that they will cocoon and change into evil gremlins. So what we've learned is: 

1) I should clear my browsing history before our IT guy finds out what I google search at work. 

2) Emily should not ever be fed after midnight.

3) I am committed to Cheetos for life (I should BE committed for life...)

4) I have an unhealthy obsession with food. I need help. Call 911.

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MegaBus Madness

 
I had the extreme displeasure of riding the Megabus this weekend to visit some friends in Philadelphia. For anyone who has ever been subject to public transportation, specifically Megabus or Greyhound, you know that the only way to mentally trick yourself into enjoying the ride is to go into it assuming that the bus will explode and you will be burned alive. That way, when you do survive, it will probably be the only positive experience of the trip...

Itinerary Details: 
Depart Pittsburgh at 6:50am
Arrive Philadelphia at 2:00pm
Cost - My sanity. And $2.45 for a bag of Cheetos. 

On Friday morning I arrived at the David Lawrence Convention Center to begin my seven-hour journey from hell. For anyone who knows me, I am in no way shape or form a "morning person," so the fact that I somehow managed to put on clothes and get to the station by 6:30 in the morning was a miracle. I knew it was too good to be true. You can't buy a round trip ticket for under $100, have the bus arrive AND depart on time, and NOT have something go horribly wrong. You just can't.

I went to the upper level of the bus and found a seat towards the rear of the bus. It didn't seem as though we were going to be jam packed, but nevertheless I made the mistake of assuming I would have a seat all to myself.

You know what happens when you assume, right? You "make an ass out of u and me" and you get stuck next to an oversized travel companion with rainbow hair and what I can only assume was a toe infection that she sported in her Hello Kitty flip flops...

I'm not sure why I was "The Chosen One."

EVERY other person on the top level of the bus had an empty seat next to them, but somehow I managed to communicate a friendly and inviting vibe in my black yoga pants, black sweatshirt, and brown combat boots (Clearly I was dressed to impress).


The temperature on the bus was subzero and my sweatshirt proved useless. There is no way to describe the bone chilling, teeth chattering temperature other than to imagine yourself rapidly eating ice pops in the dead of winter in Antarctica.

In order to deal with the harshness of the conditions, Rainbow Brite unzipped her fluorescent backpack and two new friends emerged: A moose stuffed animal and an anime character pillow. If she and her travel companions had not smelled like Ramen noodles, I would have welcomed the body heat.

I said goodbye to Rainbow when we arrived at State College. I scanned the bus full of new boarders and it was mostly filled with college students. It was still freezing on the bus, and I was seriously considering snuggling with the cute guy in the aisle next to me. We made eye contact and I thought it was a go until I realized the only reason he was looking at me was because I looked like the Unabomber...

We arrived at our rest stop and I couldn't have jogged faster into the convenience store to buy an XXXL Coffee and Cheetos. I looked like a total murderer but I was in full survival mode and needed to warm up and eat my feelings. I realized that perhaps other passengers were texting their friends about ME. For example,

"Ew there's this girl dressed in all black on the bus and I'm pretty sure she would bomb it if she wasn't too busy shoving a whole family-sized bag of Cheetos in her mouth..."

(I actually searched "Megabus" and "Cheetos" on Twitter to see if any fellow passengers were tweeting about me).

After realizing that we still had 3 hours to go, I came to the conclusion that an XXXL Coffee was in my Top 10 worst decisions I've ever made. I tried to hold it in, I really did, but I wasn't going to punish my bladder for my own selfish French Vanilla indulgence. The size of the bathroom on the bus was actually smaller than one you would use on plane. Of course you're holding on to the rails for dear life as you squat over this miniature pee stained pot so as not to make any physical contact. The turbulence experienced in those mere 2-3 minutes was exceptional. I'm convinced the bus driver saw me enter the "bathroom" and then decided to pick up the pace and play Mario Kart with the other Turnpike trolls. If I didn't have the thigh strength of a trapeze artist, I likely would have lost my balance and peed on myself. 

Although burning alive in a Megabus seems like a heroic way to go, I was able to successfully complete the 7 Hour Odyssey to Philadelphia. The return trip home to Pittsburgh was not as eventful, except that my parents knew I would have a 5-10 minute stop in Harrisburg and they drove out to see me briefly. 

Mom always keeps me grounded.

They brought me snacks and something more which I didn't realize until I was already seated on the bus. Mary and Kevin went to Neato Burrito and got me a Cowboy Crunch to enjoy on the ride home. For anyone that really, REALLY knows me (or Central PA's fine dining) this is my definition of true love and heaven on earth.

Translation: I love you, too.

For the rest of the trip I was able to sleep in tolerable conditions (i.e. Spread eagle with an empty Neato Burrito wrapper on my chest), but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say "never again" to Megabus. The price you don't pay for an expensive ticket is the price you do pay for the PTSD therapy you need for years to follow. You can help accelerate my recovery by donating money to my Kickstarter Campaign, "Meg On The Megabus," or by mailing me Neato Burrito gift cards. Message me privately for my address.

M

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Dear Mom, Sorry I'm the Worst

I have this looming fear that a day will come in which I will have a lot to answer for. Whether it is in front of God, Allah, or John Stamos, I will be reminded and likely reprimanded for:

1. Sampling/Stealing candy with my brother when we were younger and went to the grocery store (Sorry, Mom). 
2. Faking sick every First Friday in grade school so that I wouldn't have to go to Mass (Check the attendance books people. Check the books). 
3. Blaming children for pooping their pants when really I had just farted. 
4. World hunger. No...really. I literally just ate a large pizza by myself in less than 24 hours. 

But mostly what I will need to answer for is keeping my mother in a constant state of anxiety.

Many of you can identify with having a mom that calls and texts you incessantly (because they care, of course) and that stays up until the early hours of the morning waiting for you when you insist on staying out late with friends. When people, strangers even, tell me to "Leave your poor mother alone," I know I'm doing something right. 

Mary really is a saint. I knew this for certain the day that she baked me a cake in the shape of a tooth and iced it with white frosting after I had lost my first tooth. 

How do I repay her, you ask? 

Pranks. Public Humiliation. Inappropriate jokes. 

I do it because I care.

The "poor woman" has had to put up with a lot, I do admit. She accepts it though because nearly 25 years ago she decided to have a little girl and now she has to deal with the consequences.

BE THAT AS IT MAY...I have decided to write an open apology letter to my mother so that when the day comes, I will have a clear conscience and you may all bear witness to the fact that I have repented. So without further ado...

Dear Mom,

Sorry I'm the Worst. I am sorry for constantly pranking and humiliating you at random. Specifically, I am sorry for repeatedly jumping onto your back in public and demanding in a lisp that you give me "horsey rides." I am even more sorry that this happened as recently as this year.

I am sorry for being a child con artist who tried to trick you into giving me more Tooth Fairy money by placing a white pebble under my pillow.

I am sorry for making you think I was lost in Harlem at nighttime and that I was either in a gang or a drug neighborhood because there were shoes dangling from the power lines.

**NOTE FOR READERS -- My mom seriously did not talk to me for two weeks after this joke. 

I am somewhat sorry for uploading embarrassing pictures and/or videos of you on social media, but we gotta get dem LIKES, girl!!

I am sorry for that New Year's Eve where I damaged everything on the first floor of our house (Nolan, Patrick, and Caitlin had nothing to do with it).

I am sorry for making you come to my cheerleading competitions because.....cheerleading.

And I am sorry for calling you Judas after you refused to take me to Taco Bell.

However, in my defense, I would label some of these as "acts of retribution."

Mary isn't sugar and spice and everything nice, you know. For instance, when I was a child she used tactics similar to the Vietcong in order to pry information from me. She had threatened to call the mother of the boy whom I had a crush on and tell her AND him that I had a crush on him if I did not tell the truth about a "certain event." I thought she was bluffing until she brought the phone and the school directory into my room. When I held my ground, she proceeded to dial the boy's mother (AKA push the power button on and off). She went so far as giving a fake salutation before I screamed, "OKAY OKAY. I DID IT!! I ATE ICE CREAM TWICE TODAY."

I cried and she was satisfied.
I think that says a lot about my mother, me, and my love for ice cream.

But I know in my heart that when the day of judgement arrives, she and I will be welcomed into the pearly gates of Heaven and/or Pizza Planet because who could deny a duo as good looking as this:

I was told moments later that I was adopted.

M

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The Definitive List of Thoughts I Had While Running on Saturday

1. What a nice day to go for a run. I haven't done THIS in a while...
2. Actually, when WAS the last time I went running?
3. Yikes. 
4. Never mind. Forget that...let's focus on today. 
5. Go get changed. 
6. No. The Golden Girls marathon is on.
7. I have to --  this is borderline obesity. 
8. Meg, stop talking to yourself and go get changed. 
9. "I'm sure this neon sports bra will look excellent with my cut off muscle tee" said no one ever...
10. Ew, how long have I had these shoes?  No wonder I don't run, these are gross. 
11. I should look up new running shoes on the internet...
12. NO. You're stalling. Get out of the house. Go.
13. Okay let's see....Keys? Check. Douchey outfit? Double check. Music? DING DANGIT. I didn't sync my ITunes. Well this will take just a second...
14. Mine as well eat something while I wait and fuel up before this major run...
15. Ironic. Eating is what got you here in the first place, McNugget. 
16. JIMINY CRICKET is it synced yet? 
17. Okay finally - VAMOS. 
18. Time to run. Time to get fit. 
19. F-I-T. Fit Fo Life. 
20. Fitness Freak. That's me. 
21. Jesus CUH-RIST.....What is this, the Middle East??? How hot is it today?!?!?
22. I haven't even started this stupid run and I'm sweating. 
23. I'm sweating and I'm walking down the stairs. This is a bad omen. I should go back inside. 
24. This humidity is in-SAN. 
25. KO would get that reference. In-SAN. Amahhhhzing. 
26. LOLZ I'll call her after this.
27. No but really...it's hot. Like African hot. 
28. African..
29. African hate running HAHAHA 
30. GET IT?!? AFRICAN?? Like..."I FRICKIN??"
31. God I'm hilarious, I'll put that in my blog later. 
32. Okay let me start this Couch To 5K app on my cell-u-lar.
33. Key word "couch."
34. I WISH I was on my couch. 
35. Okay. Here we go. 
36. Come on Beyonce PUMP UP DA JAMS.
37. WHO RUN THE WORLD?? GIRLS GIRLS. WHO RUN THE WORLD?? MEG MEG.
38.  How much time has gone by? 
39. 1 minute. 
40. Nice.
41. What are you running with Kenyans?!?!? Set yo pace, girl!
42. No really I have to slow down I'm dying. 
43. This is much better :) And much more embarrassing. 
44. Who runs for fun???
45. Chemically imbalanced people. That's who. 
46. That little troll Emily would be flying by now. 
47. 26.2?? NEVAR. 
48. Ayyyyooo that guy is hot. 
49. Run faster so it will look like you are a natural.
50. Really Meg? Wow. 
51. If you're idea of looking cute is galloping at full speed like a rabid horse then...God help us all.
52. He didn't even look. 
53. He probably was blinded by my neon bra, that's why.
54. What the F am I almost done??
55. UGHHHHHH I'm not even half way. 
56. Ya know, running through Little Italy has been your best idea yet, Meg. 
57. Congratulations. Really nice. 
58. Is that the delicious smell of fresh calzones coming out of oven?  You bet it is.
59. You're a psychopath.
60. Or is it sociopath??
61. Whatever, I'm probably both.
62. Either way, you've done this to yourself. 
63. AH god. Help me. My legs feel like sandbags. 
64. Sandbags that were left out in the rain, maybe, and are 10x heavier than they were before...
65. Nothing better than chafing thighs in the 100 degree heat, am I right ladies??
66. Is it socially acceptable for me to puke on the side of this Day Care Center? 
67. No no...you can't do that. 
68. There are children outside.
69. What the...
70. How the hell did "Dear John" get on this playlist?!?
71. Come on Tay. Don't do this to me now girl!! 
72. That's more like it Iggy..."I'M SO FANCY...YOU ALREADY KNOW"
73. More like I'm So Sweaty.
74. And everyone definitely knows. 
75. I applied deoderant, right??
76. NOPE. 
77. Hashtag - WINNING. 
78. Hashtag - STINKY
79. How do Kenyans run so fast...especially in heat like this??
80. Witchcraft, probably. 
81. I need water.
82. What is that......
83. What is.....
84. CRAAAAAMPPPPP!!!
85. AH JESUS I forgot to stretch.
86. F you Charley and your F-ing Horses, too!!!!
87. I'm never running again. 
88. And so it was written....And so it shall be done. 
89. Or in this case, not done.
90. YAAAAASSSS. I CAN SEE THE HOUSE. 
91. Just a little....bit.....longer. 
92. Don't you F with me now Ricky Martin!!! You can live your vida loca elsewhere.
93. I really need to reevaluate this playlist.
94. AWWWW YEAH GIRL. YEAH. YOU DID IT. 
95. Time to unwind.
96. I'm so thirsty. 
97. What's in the fridge? Gatorade? Water? 
98. Oh....a can of Miller Light and a block of Colby Jack Cheese. 
99. I'm going nowhere in life. 
100. As long as I don't have to run there....

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The Laundromat from Hell

For the past 24 years I have had the luxury of always having a laundry machine on site where I lived. This year as I moved into my new apartment, I had to sacrifice on site laundry for open windows, lots of kitchen space, a great location, and the assurance of a rodent/termite free apartment (Here's lookin' at you 2333 Larkins....)

As I know nothing about laundromats, I thought a good start would be going to one that was close by and had received good reviews for cleanliness, number of washers/dryers, etc. I'll start off this horror story by saying that the laundromat's location was something you would see in the opening of a CSI episode. I made the mistake of going after work so it was getting dark. Naturally this was the perfect time for all of the sketchy clientele to come out and wash their, what I can only assume were, blood stained garments. Some people were sleeping, some had beady eyes that watched you the moment you walked in, and others were trying to dig quarters out of the gumball machine.

I will be the first to admit that when I walked in I looked like a spoiled punk who had never gone to a laundromat before. I COULD have fit in given that I looked completely disheveled but the junkie using his own saliva for soap took the cake.

Again, because I know nothing about laundromats, I did not know what the cost of washing and drying a load of laundry was. I took $5 thinking this was enough. Unfortunately $5 barely got me a wash for one load and I had two. The only other money I had was a $20 bill that I would have to take to the change machine. This was a huge mistake. Apparently the maximum quarter capacity in the change holder cup is $10, so you can only imagine that after I entered the $20 bill quarters came flinging out and spilling all over the floor as if I had just hit the jackpot.

The kids in the joint thought this was great as they quickly scrambled to pick them all up ("FREE MONEY" they thought until I had to ask for it back. I got blank stares back as if they were saying "FINDERS KEEPERS" and then I gave a glare back as if to say "IN YOUR DREAMS" and then they forked over the quarters and I really did ruin their gumball dreams forever).

Not surprisingly I had an empty sandwich bag in my purse which I used to hold all of the coins. I squinted and mumbled as I tried to read the directions on how to do laundry. This really made me look ridiculous because come on, I KNOW HOW TO READ. Somehow I managed to look poor and illiterate while simultaneously looking like a spoiled white girl who was the Grinch Who Stole Children's Gumball Money.

Things really started to liven up when the boys doing laundry next to me started talking about how they wanted to die and, no matter how they went, they wanted their bodies to become fertilizer so that in their next life they could come back as a marijuana plant....

Luckily I was able to finish and fold my laundry without getting shot, stabbed, licked, spit on, etc. so overall I think my first laundromat experience was a win-win. After I confirmed that I was alive to the outside world, I received three emails from my dad with links to purchase portable clothes washing machines, because who wouldn't want to explain THIS to guests who come over to the house.

"Whatcha doin there, Meghan??"

"Oh just churning my laundry. Go on and play Scrabble without me, I've got to empty my EZYWASH." 

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The Art/Struggle of "Getting Ready"

I don't know about you, but when I make plans to go out I have a 'getting ready' process that seems to actually last longer than whatever event or activity it is I'm getting ready for. I got a taste of this reality as I absurdly spent 1.5 - 2 hours getting ready for a night of bar hopping for the 4th of July. I wish I could use the holiday as an excuse but unfortunately this seems to be my day-to-day routine. Let's just call this process The Conversion.

Step 1: Showering

If you've mustered up the energy to shower this morning, congratulations. Some people don't even make it this far. I usually sleep as long as possible and have approximately 4 alarms that go off in the morning to wake me up; it's my way of tricking myself into believing that I can snooze for a little while longer. The 4th and final alarm is essentially a warning that if I don't get up now I'm going to look like the girl from The Grudge.
 
Once you make it into the bathroom and turn on the shower it's a sick game of figuring out exactly where the handle should be so that the temperature is just right. For me there are two temperatures - Insanely hot like the pits of Mordor (I can hear Gandalf yelling "YOU SHALL NOT SHOWER...") or numbingly ice cold where you'd give Jack and Rose a run for their money on who's going to get hypothermia first after getting in the water.                           

Now that you've made it into the shower, you choose among your selection of shampoo and conditioner bottles and pray for the best. It really is frustrating to me that there is an overwhelming variety of hair products - there are options for thick hair, thin hair, damaged hair, fine hair, frizzy hair, etc. I'm convinced they all do the same thing so I don't follow the labels but I AM expecting that these products will make me feel as exotic as the names sound. Have you ever been in the "hair" aisle and looked at some of the names on these things?? With scents like Cucumber Bali Bamboo and Tahitian Spring Floral Surprise Delight I have high expectations that I will come out of the shower with my hair glistening like those Garnier models on TV. (Disclaimer: I never come out of the shower looking like the Garnier models on TV). God forbid you get shampoo in your eyes. Then your whole shower experience is ruined and your cursing Loreal and yourself for not buying the kid's "tear-free" version like you knew you should have.

For kids, my ass.

If you have chosen to be brave and/or a normal lady, you will spend the next 10 minutes shaving and scouting every inch of your body to make sure you didn't miss a spot. Of course there are the times you accidentally cut yourself and you naively think "Oh it's just a nick" and you carry about your business until all of a sudden it's the red sea at the bottom of your tub and you're reacting as if you've just been sliced by a murderer.
                                          



Step 2: Brushing teeth

We've already touched on the overwhelming number of products in the hygiene section so we don't need to go into detail about the plethora of toothpaste brands and varieties available. And don't even get me started on floss and mouth wash. What's up with people calling it "oral rinse?" It's mouthwash. Calling it oral rinse just makes it sound dirty. MOUTH WASH is a necessary evil because it leaves you with a fresh minty taste but also makes your mouth feel like it's on fire and your eyes start to water and bleed but it's the price you pay for good breath. But let's be honest, no one has this type of daily dental hygiene and if you say you do you're lying.


Step 3: Choosing an outfit 

In brevity, I need to be submitted to a Lifetime or TLC show like What Not To Wear. You would think that I could part with my XS track shirt from 4th grade and that I wouldn't need someone to tell me NOT to wear the shirt with the marinara stain on it, but I do. Sadly, very sadly, I do. When not one but two people over the course of your life have asked if Helen Keller is your personal stylist, it's time to buy that In Style magazine at the checkout. 188 style secrets? That seems like a lot but okay.   Hot Trends I need to know? I guess I DO need to know since wearing sweatpants anywhere outside of your house is apparently frowned upon. For your viewing pleasure, here's a pic of me killing it in college:

Fresh to Death

 Step 4: Makeup

The most dreaded part of my routine. If you thought wardrobe was my handicap, think again. I don't know things. As a matter of fact, I know nothing when it comes to beauty secrets and shortcuts and I'm ALL about shortcuts. I've had to rely on my roommates for answers like "What's contouring?" and "What's that eye thingy where you use it on your eyelashes and it makes them look longer? -- Oh an eyelash curler? That makes sense.

Maybe she's born with it? CERTAINLY NOT. Maybe it's Maybelline?? You bet it is.

For those of you who know me I have two signature looks:

1) Girl who used a little bit of makeup and attempted a "sweet and subtle" look but still miraculously looks like the girl from The Grudge.


2) Girl who went balls to the walls on her makeup pallet and looks like an extra from Coyote Ugly or Rocky Horror.

Any girl who has experienced the horror of sweating off their makeup knows exactly what I'm talking about. You think your face is melting off but it's just your Honey Brown shade of foundation that didn't match your skintone to begin with. And for anyone that says, "Then just don't wear any makeup" you can go to H. We all know that's unrealistic and definitely not how I'll meet my future husband, Mr. Eric Bana.  For your viewing pleasure, here's a pic of me in college when I had strong bronzer game. Fortunately I had friends that got me through this tough time in my life, and for anyone interested, Bronzer-Holics Anonymous meetings are Wednesday's at 7pm in the YMCA basement. 

Flat Hair Don't Care

However long and intricate your "getting ready" process may last, we can all go to sleep at night knowing that it was likely in pursuit of your best appearance possible. For all we know, your "best" may be a pair of yoga pants with a hole in the crotch and an over sized Tshirt that has the ICEE bear holding a slurpee on it. Obviously "makeup need not apply" is suitable for this look. We can only pray that all other outfit options have been exhausted at this point and you're only wearing this particular outfit to your local laundromat. Or you know...an outdoor concert where you'll be seen by thousands of people.

Friends don't let friends wear horrible outfits alone.

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The Power of Three

They say that good things come in threes. Today was a true testament of that as the following three things happened to liven up this otherwise dull Monday morning:

1) I saw that Bon Iver premiered a song that was written for Zach Braff's new film "Wish I Was Here." I have since listened to said song approximately 14 times in a row because I am slightly compulsive. Check it out: Bon Iver - Heavenly Father

2) I was emailed this morning about free nachos in Customer Service and proceeded to eat my fill and simultaneously redefine the term "ladylike."

3) At approximately 3pm I was in need of a snack. I realized I had not one but TWO string cheese packets in my office fridge, stopped dead in my tracks, let out a not-so-silent "AWWW YEAH" accompanied by a half-powered arm thrust and retrieved my snack in glory.


UNFORTUNATELY....

Bad things also come in threes. Today was a true testament of that as the following three things happened which killed the mood of this otherwise decent Monday:

1) A coworker's grandchild was in the office this morning. Truly a cute child. I keep saying "child" because I think we can all guess what mistake I made.

Me: Ohhh she's so cute. What's her name?
Coworker: Well he's a boy so....

Not only did I not know the gender of the child, but I did not know the gender of a TODDLER child. Don't let me out in public anymore. It would have been one thing if I left it at "Ohhh she's so cute" because perhaps my coworker would have thought I said "HE" but I was 100% committed and asked the girl's name which it turns out is Jamal.

2) For what I can only assume was the grander portion of the morning my zipper was down and I was flaunting some seriously attractive underoos*

(*I was not flaunting some seriously attractive underoos.)

3) Imagine yourself in a situation where you are bored to death and you let out an exasperated "Ughhhh kill me." Now imagine yourself on a nearly 2 hour conference call where you thought you were muted and you let out an exasperated "Ughhhh kill me."

Insert silence on the other end of the line here.

"What's that Meghan??"
"Oh...uhm. SORRY. I just spilled......something. On myself. It's okay....I'm okay...."

SOLID RECOVERY.

Tomorrow I am hoping for the power of four - no children in the office, free buffalo chicken pizza, successful cable installation, and a date turned love affair turned marriage with Eric Bana.

Or like...world peace or something.

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Lord of the Flies

It was a bittersweet feeling as I finally moved out of the Jane St. residence last night. I recounted happy memories of Friendsgiving, St. Patrick's Day, and the general flopping around on the couch -  eating Chinese food and watching Game of Thrones every Sunday night with my roommates. 

I was having a pleasant "moving out" experience -- I only had a few more things to pack up and Nicole had done 98% of the cleaning (what a trooper). All I had to do was clean the kitchen. 

I walked through the dining room and heard a buzz. A fly circled around me and then disappeared. 

A surveyor. He was out collecting intel for the rest of his "fly friends." I knew we shouldn't have left the windows open to air out the house....

I entered the kitchen and into an ambush. A full fledged war, if you will, was waged on my head. Forget what you learned in your high school Freshman English class. This experience gave new meaning to Lord of the Flies. There had to be at least ten flies, if not more, and their mission was clear: 

THIS IS OUR HOUSE NOW. GET OUT, GIRL. 

Now I don't take so kindly to threats. So I did what anyone else would do...I devised a counter attack plan. I had to take into consideration a few things:

Fly advantages: 

- They can fly 

- They are tiny enough to hide where you can't find them

- I don't have great hand-eye coordination

Meghan advantages: 

- Pissed off and determined to kill ALL of these MF-ing flies 

A quick trip to Rite Aid and I was back with my weapon of choice: Raid. If this truly was Lord of the Flies then the can of Raid was my conch and I was calling all these flies out to 'come get some.'  

Perhaps it was the cloud of fumes in the house, but I became concerned for my own well being when I caught myself "trash talking" these flies.

 "Oh you want to fly away? HELL NAW (sprays Raid everywhere)"

"I will kill you. I will kill you DEAD."

I told Nicole that if I ever write a review for a product it will be Raid. It killed ALL of the flies and had a somewhat Tropical scent so it was a win-win. I also only had 4 nosebleeds throughout the night. 

If that wasn't enough excitement for one day, I met my neighbors for the first time as I was carrying boxes up and down the stairs and, consequently, sweating profusely. You know when you look deranged and desperately hope that no one sees you? It was like that only worse because my palms were sweaty when I shook hands with them AND the old Tshirt I was wearing had stains all over it. Apparently I wasn't completely repulsive to them, however, because they left this outside of my door this morning :) 

Making friends in my fly-free home is a good start to the weekend.

M

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"The Move" - Target Tribulations and Other Grievances

I recently moved to a new apartment, my first solo apartment ever, and I've had mixed feelings about it. After having recently binge-watched the first three seasons of Sex and The City, living alone like Carrie and company seemed very appealing and glamorous (Reality check #1: this is Shadyside and not New York City).

I was pretty excited to decorate my own place. Excited until I was in Target and suddenly became overwhelmed about which shower curtain to purchase. I spent almost THREE hours in Target perusing "stuff" that I wasn't even sure I wanted, let alone needed.

That's the great thing about Target; they have practically everything you could ever want. In lots of sizes. And in lots of colors. Only 95% of the time you leave the store with buyer's remorse and now you're taking out a loan to pay off all of the junk you just bought. (Reality check #2: I guess I didn't really NEED that singing loofah).

I was physically and emotionally exhausted as I pushed my cart through the aisles. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel - I was almost ready to check out (pun intended). All I had to do was return a Kitchen Mat that I had deemed unworthy.

BUT WAIT - no trip out in public is complete without something totally bizarre happening (In my family we like to call this the Earnest Curse).

A 'couple' passed me with their cart but turned around to ask me a question. Being the upstanding citizen that I am, I was ready to assist. The conversation went a little something like this:

Woman: Excuse me, may I ask you a question?
Me (startled): Sure, what's up??
Woman: We often like to ask this question as we're shopping around....
Me (thinking): Ooooohhhh good maybe they'll give me coupons!

Woman:  Have you ever heard of the female form of God?
Me (thinking): This is definitely not about coupons... 

I said I hadn't but knew immediately that this was a huge mistake since I practically just invited them to tell me more.

I wanted these people to leave me alone and go away. Far away. I could see the woman pulling out one of those pamphlets that essentially tell you to repent or you will burn in hell for eternity. (Reality Check #3: I would rather burn in hell for eternity than continue this conversation).

The woman continued to ask me if I was religious. I'm not and normally would have responded with my default curse of "Jesus Christ..." but figured that would only complicate the situation.

All I could think about were the refrigerated items in my cart and how my string cheese was likely being crushed by my 2 pound bag of Sweedish Fish.

I kindly declined the reading material and practically tripped over myself as I jogged to the check out lanes. I made it home safely and hung up my new shower curtain in peace.

Although I've only been in my new apartment for two days, I'm becoming more cognizant of the Pros/Cons of living alone.

Con: I didn't get to come home and vent on the couch to my roommates about my heinous shopping experience. 

Pro: While furnishing the apartment I didn't have to act embarrassed and skip over "Sk8r Boi" when it came on my playlist. I sang it out loud for all to hear. OH I SANG IT ALRIGHT. 

All of this aside, I'm excited to start a new chapter in my life and am looking forward to sharing the experience with all of you. Stay tuned for pictures of my new place!

M

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That Awkward Moment

Every single person has experienced an awkward moment in their life. Unfortunately, some people experience them more often than others. We like to call this group of unfortunate souls, "The Damned" - You know if you're a member or not by the sheer amount of absurdity and mortification that you have experienced in your life.

Ladies & Gentlemen, my life is defined by awkward moments. If you have followed me on social media you are witness to some of the stories that I have shared in the past. In fact, I usually start out each day wondering what is going to happen to me and when, and praying to god/the universe/Tom Cruise that whatever it is won't happen in too crowded of a place or in front of an extremely good looking guy (because you know, my chances to start off with were already about 20:80).

On a scale of 1-5 which measures the intensity and level of humiliation, I can assure you I've experienced it all.There have been Level 2 awkward moments -- actually being attracted to Ron Swanson, being seen violently licking the lid of my pudding cup, or moments that I generally like to refer to as 'Classic Meg':

Me: "Hey you look really sharp today, what's the occasion?" 

Coworker: "Oh...just going to my grandmother's funeral."

Not surprisingly, there have also been a number of Level 5 awkward moments that I've headlined for myself such as:

- Girl Locks Herself In Portapotty For 20 Minutes: Soccer Game Goes On Without Her
- Failed Attempt to Save Cute Stranger From Mall Kiosk Vultures Makes Girl Look Deranged
- Janitor Mistakes Girl's Post-Enchillada Gas For Toxic Chemical Outburst

I anticipate that some day all of these headlines will become chapter titles for my autobiography, "Mo' Naps Mo' Snacks." Trademark pending.

Although I'll be honest, I think my favorite awkward moment to date is simply known as "Bathroom Ballads," the terribly true story of a girl who innocently had a song stuck in her head and was caught singing said song (Pinocchio's "I've Got No Strings To Hold Me Down") to herself in a goofy voice in the bathroom. 

In my defense I thought I was alone. It was only when I heard another toilet flush that I knew this wasn't the case. I proceeded to meet the other bathroom goer at the sinks where she proceeded to tell me I had a "unique" singing voice. I can only imagine that this woman had probably been hiding in the stall sending an SOS text to her entire contacts list assuming a predator was in the bathroom. 

This is my life. Why I let myself do these things, I have no idea. All I know is that there is no shortage of awkwardness here and that there will be many more moments to share with you in the future. Stay tuned. 

In the meanwhile, I would LOVE to hear your embarrassing and/or awkward moments. If you're brave enough, leave a comment! 

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An Introduction.

Future Meg, 

It is the summer of 2014. All of your friends have abandoned you for far more interesting cities, career pursuits, etc. and you're living in Pittsburgh alone. You're 24 years old, you have a somewhat decent job, and you're eating vanilla frosting for dinner...with your finger. 

Now that everyone has been brought up to speed - Welcome. You will soon understand that I have an extraordinary amount of free time on my hands now so I figured I would make the most of it. God knows I wont be working out, and I cant afford drinking every night, so blogging seemed like the second best alternative.

You can look forward to my reviews, rants, and ramblings on a variety of topics. It will be like BuzzFeed, only with less quizzes on which boyband you should actually be in.

...... *Nsync obviously.

I hope you will be entertained.

M

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