Thursday, September 29, 2005


warning: examples and rhetorical questions abound

So I'm pretty sure I've slacked off in the past two days in the blogging world. I am sorry (well, not really...).

It's just that I've had this entry in mind, and I haven't really felt like writing it. And I'm not really feeling it right now, but maybe it will come out less heart-wrenching this way.

Moving to D.C. is a big decision. And with every big decision, there are pros, and cons. Good things, and bad things. Awesome stuff, stinky stuff. You get the point. Moving, while it's going to be fantastic, will definitely have a myriad of drawbacks. I'll go from living in this nice house to a probably less than luxurious apartment. I'll go from driving one of three cool cars to supporting public transportation. I'll go from sitting around all day and doing what I want to actually working and doing stuff that will probably not be fun, at least for some of the time.

All this stuff, no prob. I can deal. I can even deal with eating ramen, "living on dreams and spaghettios." My mom is practically a gourmet cook, but I have fairly cheap tastes. So that will work out.

So why did I almost burst into tears today when adding flour to my cookie dough? Why did I choke back a sob as I was ironing some shirts? Why do I imagine that I'll be crying a bit too much behind closed doors in the week to come?

(and here you're probably sighing, thinking, WE'VE ALREADY COVERED THIS!)

and you're right. We have. But I'm going to go over it again...I'm going to miss my family so much. There's just something about coming home and talking to your parents and getting hugs and kisses and having tea with them every night. There's something about going to the movies with Bub, or just watching some random TV show and laughing about stupid, yet hysterical things (double bladed light saber? or double flavored life saver?). Being home is like having this giant security blanket wrapped around me. And I'm always cold, so I like having blankets.

And that's not even talking about my cousins. There's Caro, who yells my name with glee when she sees me (or even when she doesn't) and likes to play with my sparkly earrings. Or Liam, who is five and told his neighbors that I'm going to work at the White House, controlling the security cameras. And Brendan, who got a sad look and asked his mom if I'd come visit them, or if I'd always be in D.C.

Or the H's, who, when I came to their door yesterday, told me they were watching a movie about Sept. 11 and asked if I was really scared when it happened...and knowing that I'm going to be going back to that city next week. Asking if I really can make it back for the Halloween party, and me having to say that I can't promise anything. And, knowing that I'll be missing them, tried to make me feel good by telling me that they'll definitely come visit.

And I haven't even mentioned my aunts and uncles and grandparents. Everyone telling me they'll miss me and that they'll buy me tons of food and mail it down so I don't starve. A.Anne helping me carry a neighbor's sofa down our long driveway when she has a five year old and a two year old waiting in the car. A. Mary, always there to give me relationship advice and a reassuring talk saying that everything works out in the end. And for the better. And so many others.

Crap. It's like...why am I this way? It's not as though I live in some hicktown that has zero opportunity for growth. I'm 15 minutes from Boston, for goodness sake. It's not as though I have some family pushing me away - they take every opportunity and moment to tell me that they wish I'd stay and that they care about me.

So why am I walking away from this, even for a little while? It comes down to the thought that I know, absolutely, that if I don't do this, I will regret it. I don't want to be here, with my amazing family, and be bitter. They don't deserve that. They deserve someone who is happy and healthy, someone who reciprocates their good cheer. And after I spend time in D.C., I'll be back. It's impossible to be away from this for too long.

I went over my budget last night, and it left me with $200 a month to spare, after all the expenses. Umm, that's not very much at all. But that money is going to go towards priorities. Some people want cool clothes, others want top of the line liquor. Or cheap alcohol and lots of it. Me?

I want cheap roundtrip flights from Washington - Boston.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005




I have a wonderful announcement to make. I, Meghan, am now EMPLOYED!!!!

YES! And it's at the place that I wanted, with all of the women who remind me of my mom's friends, in the old mansion. And it's the job I wanted, as an editorial assistant. I start next Thursday (gulp) and I'm getting...well, not "a lot" of money, but more than they had mentioned in the first round of interviews.

This is insane. Not only will I no longer be able to blog about feeling worthless and unemployed, I also might be able to have some money (probably not for about 2 months, so this will still be going on) to buy those meaningless material things that I love so much.

AND. This is practically the best part. I don't have to apply to any more jobs! Go on any more interviews! Go into my "hire me" spiel.

This change in my employment status may also signify a change in my blogging habits. Well, I don't know what type of internet access I'll have in the next few weeks, but you can bet I'll sneak all the way to CUA's computer lab if that's the only way to blog.

okay. I'm going to leave off here. Getting this job has opened up a lot of emotions and thoughts that I've previously been kinda ignoring...but this isn't the entry for it.


Tuesday, September 27, 2005



Remember how my life was falling apart last night?

It has emerged triumphant, like a phoenix from the ashes. Turns out the advisor wasn't in South America, he was in Chicago, and he's back. And turns out I was being a stupid girl (okay, you're basically always right, mom and dad) and he said he'll give me a great reference.

So I called HR and told her his number the second I got off the phone with him. I was so excited, haha.

Whether or not I get the job, I know now it won't be because I can't find anyone to speak up for me and my experiences. It's out of my hands!

And that's a very nice feeling.

Monday, September 26, 2005



Just because I try to be honest with you guys, I'm going to confess something.

Stuff just totally blew up in my face today and I don't know how it's all going to work out. I often try to play it cool and use humor as my tool to pretend that I'm not hurt or scared...but there's no pretending here.

As mentioned before, I had an interview Friday with a company that I really want to work for. At the meeting that day, the woman said that pending good references, I would get an offer phone call Monday night or Tuesday.

So when my cell phone was ringing with the organization's phone number displayed today at 3:30, I started to feel a little psyched, thinking "is this it?!"

Well, it wasn't. But it's not necessarily the end of the story. It was the HR woman, asking for a reference who was familiar with my work on the paper (I had originally given her three - one from work last year, a professor, and a woman who works in the student programs office). A reasonable request, but one I wasn't too psyched about. The advisor and I, although working together rather closely for three years, never exactly clicked. Even though my parents think it's just me being an emotional girl, I always felt like there was an undercurrent of disdain surging beneath his every word and action towards me. Or maybe not every word, but through a lot of them.

I respect this man a lot, and I felt as though I could never earn his respect in return, regardless of all of the effort and hours I put into the newspaper. That is both a frustrating and disappointing feeling.

So it was with trepidation that I dialed his office number today. I left a stumbling and stuttered message, asking him to be a reference and asking him to call my cell when possible. I also e-mailed him. Knowing that it was last minute, I wracked my mind for other people that I could call. The Provost? The VP of Student Life? I talked with both of them at least twice a month for three years...why the hell not.

After speaking to their respective assistants, I found out that the provost and the VP of StuLife are attending the same meeting, for over a week. In a foreign country.

And then the current EIC IMed me with the glorious news that the advisor is also on a business trip. In South America. Of course.

Facing what seemed like a brick wall, I turned around and e-mailed & called a professor that I've had for three classes, who was a regular source/reader of the newspaper. No response from him yet. I also contacted the person who had basically trained me at the paper and taught me everything I know and had promoted me to the position of news editor my sophomore year. He called me back as soon as possible (thank you!!) and he said he'll be a reference, as good as a 24 year old law student can be. :-)

I feel like crying. Here is this job, so close to my grasp and it's currently sitting out of reach. I've done the work, I've put in the hours, I've made the effort. The HR woman is totally just doing her job, and I understand that - many people out there lie on interviews, and it's her duty to make sure that they make a strong hire.

I'm a strong hire, dammit. If only the people who are authorized to say so were in the country.

But it just seems like everything is going so wrong. I'm praying that tomorrow it will all turn around - I'll hear from the professor, I'll call the HR woman, she'll call the professor and then she'll call me with a smile and be like "When can you start?"

Oh. And not like I believe in this crap, but check out my horoscope from this morning, courtesy of the Boston Globe:

"Nothing will go according to plan. Be prepared to change direction midway. Problems with colleagues will confuse you. A partnership may not turn out as you had hoped."


the blind leading the blind

Lately I've become this blind person helper. I don't know what it is, or why it is, but when I see a blind person it's like I'm drawn to asking if they want help.

I'm not sure when this thing happened, most likely last year when a "seeing impaired" girl moved into a dorm near mine. If I recall correctly, one time I was walking along the sidewalk and I passed her tapping away. I felt a bit guilty prancing along my merry way, jumping over cracks and avoiding deep puddles, so I asked if she wanted help, and she said sure. I swallowed my trepidation and offered her my arm, she took it, and we walked into the pryz together.

Dear Abby's advice was ringing in my ears "Most likely people would like your help, so don't hesitate to offer it."

Since then, being a seeing eye dog has become a fairly regular occurrence, and the good deeds most usually happen on the Metro. Something about someone tumbling off the platform onto the tracks generally shocks me into action and prevents me from looking the other way. During my June trip to DC, I led a man off the bus, down the ramp and to the turnstile. When I was there two weeks ago, I walked with a man named Dan from the red line to the yellow line downstairs. C-note helped out by running ahead and determining if he was waiting for the train that would come on the left or the right side.

Then a few days ago I saw a blind man tapping the gate at the metro gate, while the station manager was sitting in his box 15 feet away, doing the crossword or something. I went up to him all "Can I help you sir?" and he said, "I'm looking for the station manager." So I loudly said "EXCUSE ME?" in the direction of the oblivious worker. The station manager heard me, looked up and started coming over.

I said to the blind man "oh, he was slacking off, reading the paper or something."

and the station manager came over and said to me "I heard that." All nastily. But like, whatever. If you're ignoring your paying customers with disabilities, you deserve to have someone call you on it.

So, after helping one blind person, you feel like a good person. And after helping a second, you're like "okay, I'm doing this because no one else is." But when it becomes a habit? Am I really doing it because I'm nice or is there some other thing motivating me? Friday night I had a semi-deep moment at the Times when a guy I was talking to

*Sidenote. Bub. Just because I was talking to a guy DOES NOT mean that I'm desperate for a relationship. It's calling mingling.*

...said that some people may say that there's no such thing as a selfless act. I have no idea how we got on that topic, but I said that I disagreed and gave an example as a rebuttal. But me helping the blind community of D.C. is possibly indicative of no such thing as a selfless act.

Am I helping these people because I don't want them to die on the tracks? Because I see other people swarming around them on the platform, not even casting a glance?

Or do I do it because it makes me feel useful? Good-hearted? Because I get shot of endorphins when I give someone an arm and lead them through the huddled masses? Do I secretly have a Jesus complex, carrying my candle along the tracks of the Metro?

Okay, so that last sentence is a bit ridiculous. But it would be nice to determine if this was an entirely selfless act...or a secretly selfish one.

Friday, September 23, 2005


Why I love my friends

E, bored at work:

EOBeirne (9:43:03 PM): "Her name was Meghan Joyce. People in the tavern just called her Megs Legs
EOBeirne (9:43:08 PM): she was a reckless one
EOBeirne (9:43:20 PM): liked to flash around images of her skirt in the heads of many men
EOBeirne (9:43:59 PM): her main joint was the Times.. and most of the time she was hanging out by the pool table,
EOBeirne (9:44:13 PM): she always seemed to play a game no man could understand
EOBeirne (9:44:20 PM): with Babe O'Beirne
EOBeirne (9:44:36 PM): but they knew what they were doing. and they did it well,
EOBeirne (9:44:54 PM): hahah Megs Legs makes me think of outlaw names

C-note and I wandered to the Reagan center today to find a quizno's. We walk through security, flashing our licenses (why? why?) and then came out on a balcony, facing an opera and a couple of hundred people wearing black tie sitting at candlelit tables.

We were totally dressed for the occasion.

I was wearing a short sweatshirt skirt (yeah yeah I also wore that last night) and the t-shirt I slept in. C-note was a bit better dressed, in jeans, a red sox shirt, a suit jacket and red converse sneakers. When we told the security guards that we were going to Quizno's, they just laughed at us, then gave us simple directions to follow to get there.

Apparently they were difficult for us, because we couldn't find the stairwell we were supposed to take, so the security guard walked down the hall, put his arm around each of us, and led us to the elusive doorway.

Only C-note and I could inadvertently stumble upon a black tie affair looking like scrubs, ask for a fast food place, and get an escort there.


Lazy Blogger

Not to be down on myself, but I have been a horrible blogger lately. First there was that gaffe in the Sunday posting, and then in my most recent one I took liberties with history and wrote E in when it should have C-note making shadows on the glass in the dorm.

I'm sorry! And I also haven't been doing the daily posting thing either. I guess that's what comes of actually doing work (gasp!) Tuesday I had a cold...which still remains and is a big winner on the interview circuit when I get congested and can't simultaneously breathe and all I would have written was "I feel sick. I HATE THE WORLD!" Wednesday I was busy preparing for my trip. Yes, I was doing work and was being productive. And Thursday I flew down here to D.C.

Speaking of. Because I tend to be overly optimistic and a pushover, this company scheduled an interview for 2:30 on Thursday. I agreed to it. Then did the math and realized that my flight landed at 12:28, the BWI bus came at 1:00 and we'd hit the Metro at 1:39, and then with the two train transfer and traveling practically the length of an entire line, I would make it to the metro stop that I needed to be at 2:12. And the building was a 10 minute walk from the metro.

That was cutting it entirely too close for comfort. Especially for the girl who usually gets to interviews a good 20 minutes early and tries to find some cafe to duck into both to waste time and switch her flipflops for business shoes.

So I got to the AirTran desk at 8:30 and there was a flight that left at nine...two hours earlier than my original panic-inducing departure. I treaded lightly to the woman, saying in a breathless, barely daring-to-wish voice "I was hoping I could get on the 9 o clock flight to Baltimore?" Her face was stern, but I detected a glimmer of gentleness. She typed some keys, frowned a bit, then I heard some printing, and she handed me a boarding pass.

I honestly could have hugged her. Or something. I broke into this huge smile and was like "you just saved me you have no idea thank you SO MUCCCH!!!"

Oh and then on the flight I was a total beast to the guy sitting at the window (I was in the aisle seat). Before we even left the jetway, he breaks out a Maxim and starts flipping through. I look at him, raise my eyebrow and say "Doing a little light reading, huh?"

He laughed. Then put it away a few minutes later. I am so evil.

So I had an interview at this huge company yesterday, they have about 600-700 employees. It was so Firm-like, I felt like Tom Cruise's wife in...The Firm. I took the elevator to the eighth floor, and it opened up to a space-agey new-agey place with white tiled floors and white walls with gold and green fixtures. I looked to my right. A locked door. To my left, a desk in the middle of the white floor with a smiling receptionist sitting behind it. I walked up, introduced myself. She referenced a sheet on her desk with a schedule, and asked me to take a seat.

The seats were next to these conference rooms that had glass walls. I could see a crowd of people wearing nametags surrounding a laptop screen, watching a presentation. It was so commercial-like. I wanted to knock on the glass and be like "What on earth are you doing?"

While waiting for my first interviewer, I people watched. I immediately felt clumsy, because all the girls were walking by with pointy shoes with pointy heels and they all were fairly perfect looking with obviously expensive outfits. They were dressed to impress. The guys were all tall and fairly handsome. Which is usually a draw, but when taken in the context of a white tiled office and perfect girls, it all felt a little too android for comfort.

Another girl was waiting to be interviewed as well. When she got up to hand something to the receptionist, I noticed that she had a big white sticker on the back of her sweater. Clearly she was in the same "coolness group" that I am. I alerted her of her imperfection, and she seemed relieved. In her head she was probably thinking "I may have had a sticker on my back, but at least I'm wearing pointy shoes, you thick-heeled doofus!" StickerGirl's interviewer came and got her, and as the interviewer walked away, I reflected "Is her shirt SEE THROUGH?!" It totally was.

My people finally came...two girls one year out of college. So like, a future me. They spoke eloquently and enthusiastically about the company. Then I met with two other people individually. They were into working there, and were friendly.

But something was missing. (maybe me impressing them? Because I don't think that was happening)

I don't know. I hope I get a job offer from them (I interviewed for two jobs) if only for my own ego one likes to be rejected. And if offered, I'd probably take the job - because no one likes to be poor. But I couldn't help but think that I wouldn't fit in that well. At the very least, I'd have to buy a whole set of pointy-toed uncomfortable shoes. And I'd probably be injected with some computer chip or have ugly black nodes implanted along my spine.

I had another interview today and it's been the most promising one yet. So, they're checking out my references and I should know by late Monday or Tuesday whether or not I've gotten the job. As alien as I felt at The Firm, I felt that much at home at this place. It's in a huge old mansion, and I got to see the ballroom on the second floor after my interview. I walked in and gasped "Oh, it's like the Great Gatsby!"

That, people, is why I haven't been hired. A savvy job hunter would have said something along the lines of "You know, you'd need a room twice this size to hold all of the newpapers I helped put together in college." Or "Gee, this intimidating room reminds me of the time I single-handedly rescued the Great White Shark from the brink of extinction."

The job description includes doing something that I love (writing) and I'd be working with really nice people who remind me of my mom's friends. The people that I met who are (close to) my age that work there are friendly and very unassuming...wearing nice clothes but not looking like they just stepped off the catwalk.

So, we'll see. Fingers crossed and prayers raised on this one.

And I promise to blog more and better in the future!

Tuesday, September 20, 2005


I would post a picture from the Keith Urban concert...but that would be bad

Melia IMed me this morning right after I got up, harassing me about not updating this blog for the working folk. I felt slightly abashed, since here I was just waking up, and she had already been at work for two hours. I told her that I didn't have anything to write about yesterday, and asked her for suggestions for today. She said "our lunch on Friday." That seemed a bit daunting, since it hasn't happened yet, but I decided to go for it. It kind of reminded me of my English class last year, when the teacher chose topics for us to write about. There would be nothing, but with a little thought, a few pages would come out of that germ of an idea.

So here we go.

Melia and I lived in the same dorm freshman year, but we never hung out. She was one of those "fourth floor girls," you know. We were also in the same major, so we kinda ran into each other quite a lot. Seems like we'd become fast friends, right? However. There is drama.

During those early days at CUA, I had a slight crush (Hah who are we kidding?) on a friend freshman year. We had dinner together, went out in the city together, he played guitar while I sat there daydreaming. Perfect, except that it remained a crush. (which in hindsight was a good thing, but I didn't see that then)

One day we were walking by Melia, and he goes "Hey Melia" in this strange, deeper manly voice that I had never heard before coming from him. After about 30 seconds I summoned the courage to ask what I had just realized. "Do you have a crush on her?" I attempted to keep my voice calm, but I'm sure I sounded like a shrew. He looked at me, a bit surprised, and said "Well...I think she's hot. How could you tell?"

I was thinking...shit. She is super pretty. One of my friends has described her as "cute as a button" and that fits perfectly. How can I EVER compare to Melia?!

After that I saw Melia as this girl who the guy I had a crush on liked. She was the enemy! I was jealous! And, me, Ms. Friendly, never made any attempts to strike up conversations with her. Nevermind the fact that the boy left after freshman year to pursue his dreams at a different school (um, if you're reading this, hey Tian!), my initial resentment and jealousy never exactly faded away. And by the time it was gone, it just seemed so damn awkward to go up to her and be like "Hi Melia! I'm Meg! I haven't spoken to you for two years even though we've lived in the same dorm and had a bunch of the same"

Luckily, fates and Facundo intervened. Junior year, Melia joined a group with E and I, and we had a fun afternoon of filming (pardon me, taping) flowers and crazy shadows on the glass display case of Walton hall. And I realized that this girl is not only super pretty and smart, she was also incredibly Nice. A great person.

Then we had photography class together last fall, and it was so much fun being in the darkroom with her, mixing chemicals and cursing the gods of exposure times. I was complaining about the smell, or the paper, or my crappy picture, or something and Melia said,

"Oh Meghan. Don't be so negative."

(waiting a minute to let that hilarious pun sink in)

After that, it was history. We'd chat, laugh about stuff, make plans to run away to London when our hearts were broken. We even went strapless bra shopping together the day before graduation. (okay, that's kinda weird. but it just kinda happened. really.)

And I haven't seen her since that fateful graduation day when my mom took a picture of us with a rose in our mouths. I am so excited to have lunch with her on Friday. And if I get this job, we might be able to have lunch together frequently. We'll both be poor, but we can do the whole "brown bag lunch" thing. Maybe we can pretend we're in the third grade and trade snacks. (for the record, I'm a big fan of fruit rollups.)

So, let this serve as a lesson to all of you out there. DON'T BE A JEALOUS IDIOT LIKE I WAS. I missed out on two years of having a great friend because my little pride was wounded. If only I had been a bigger person and had said hi to Melia one of those random times when we were waiting to cross at Michigan Ave, being hooted at by the locals.

Melia, I'm sorry for being a fool. Thank you for being my friend!

Sunday, September 18, 2005


Second post of the night. wooo!

I just finished "In Her Shoes" by Jennifer Weiner. I loved it. I think it's even knocked Bridget Jones's Diary out of the #1 place in my heart. It's important to state here that I read "Good in Bed" last year, and while I liked it, it didn't knock me off my feet.

"In Her Shoes" left me with a "I just read a really GREAT book" feeling. All excited and emotionally supercharged. I apologize to all of those people that I IMed in a frenzy gushing about it. I also may have e-mailed the author saying that I loved her book. Whoops.

So, being the nerd that I am, I went to JW's fan site, and she has this advice for wannabe writers:

"Read everything. Read fiction and non-fiction, read hot best sellers and the classics you never got around to in college. Read men, read women, read travel guides and Harlequins and epic poetry and cookbooks and cereal boxes, if you're desperate. Get the rhythm of good writing in your ears. Cram your head with characters and stories. Abuse your library privileges. Never stop looking at the world, and never stop reading to find out what sense other people have made of it. If people give you a hard time and tell you to get your nose out of a book, tell them you're working. Tell them it's research. Tell them to pipe down and leave you alone."

Mark my words. Someday I'm going to be a published author.


it's sunday!

I recently changed churches. Now, for some (or um, mostly all) that might not seem like a big deal. But we've been going to the same church since we moved here 19 years ago, we know the pastor, my dad is on the financial council. Two sets of my aunts and uncles go to the same church. So basically, I'm the black sheep. But I'm also the one who is stepping out because she's tired of hearing homilies that she can't relate to. I'm sick of having this interested look on my face while I space out.

On that note, I'm really into this other church, located a town away. First thing going for it is that it has a mass at 5 p.m. I like going later in the day, because then I'm less distracted. This was especially true when I was at school, because early in the morning I'd be worrying about all the stuff I had to do throughout the day - homework, meetings, etc. But it remains true today. 5 o'clock mass and I fit well.

The priest is also hilarious and very open. The first week we went he talked about being bipolar. And I was just stunned by his honesty - a lot of people have trouble sharing personal things to those closest to them, nevermind an entire congregation. But he knew that his experiences would help others. And then the next week...well, I forget what he had talked about, but I had listened the entire time.

Today he was interesting again, talked about God's unconditional love. And he talked about watching Desperate Housewives, and said that he was furious that it's not going to be on tonight because of the Emmy's or something. I felt like standing up, putting my fist in the air and shouting "AMEN!"

But then, as he continued with the main message of things, I started thinking. (and um, here's where I'm trying to remember what he was talking about.) Oh yeah. He talked about a woman's column in the paper, her saying that she prayed for one of her friends who was having a tough time. The woman's friend said to the writer at the end of her tough experience "It was horrible. But I'm okay."

A heartwarming story for sure. But where was God in all this? The lesson? The repenting of sins? Where was the bitter medicine? I was thinking that this is all a little toooo easy. God loves me unconditionally. But don't I have to try my hardest to please Him? Maybe I'm a masochist and I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth.

But I left there feeling like I could do whatever, and that would be A-OK. I think I've said this before, but I strongly disagree* with some of the positions of the Church, primarily on gay marriage and the issue of female priests. But other topics I'm not so sure about, and it leaves me in this uncomfortable gray area.

I have questions, I need guidance. I want to bounce ideas off someone who I have respect for and knows what he is talking about. I don't necessarily want to be told what is right and what is wrong, but rather I'd like to come to certain answers for certain subjects, and certainty only comes through intelligent well-thought out dialogue.

And some of you may be sitting there, scoffing at my questions and uncertainty, feeling that you in fact have everything figured out. That I'm stupid for considering things like religion in my everyday choices. Or you may be thinking that religion is stupid, and you may think that I'm weak.

Well, go ahead and think that. But you're wrong. And if anyone is in the mood for discussing religion in the context of daily life...let me know. I promise it won't be as boring as it sounds.

09/21/2005 NOTE: Patty just pointed out to me that I had said "I strongly agree" when I had meant to say "strongly DISagree." Whoops. For the record, I think gay people should be able to get married, and I think women would make wonderful priests.

Friday, September 16, 2005


where's the rest of it?

Yesterday I had a brief foray into eating healthily. I decided to go on the SpecialK Challenge - which is having 2/3 cup of cereal + 1/2 cup of skim milk + serving of fruit for two meals a day, then having a regular meal. Snacks can be fruit or Special K bars (which aren't all that bad, actually) and fruit. You can also drink normally. This is supposed to go on for two weeks, and at the end you should drop about 5-6 pounds. It's not intended to be a long term fix or diet, but rather motivation for healthier living.

I had noticed it on the back of the box for the past few months, and it had been sticking in the back of my brain as something I should try. The first time I saw it I scoffed "OF course you lose weight. You're starving yourself!" But something about a quick fix caught my lazy eye.

So around 9 a.m., bleary-eyed but enthusiastic, I measured out 2/3rds a cup of cereal. It immediately became clear that I've been having about 6 servings all these years. (For the record, I used 1 % milk, but I never actually drink it, so I figured that was okay.) The bowl took approximately 1 minute to eat - and then I washed off grapes and had a bunch. So far, so good.

And then approximately an hour later I was hungry. I ignored it until 11:30, when I couldn't resist it anymore - so I had a serving of CranRaisins. Not that bad tasting, actually. But not exactly on the filling side.

Then I had my second bowl (or should I say, second measuring cup) of cereal around 12:30, accompanied by a serving of Mott's applesauce. It was tasty, sure. But I was hungry again a half hour later, with dinner a murky oasis that was at least six hours away.

I remained strong. I didn't cheat. Until I was over my cousins' house, and we made cookies. Christmas sugar cookies. Now, for the record, I can make a mean plate of chocolate chip cookies and brownies. But sugar cookie land was somewhere I had never visited - I had warned the kids that it was an experiment, and that the cookies may come out badly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately for my SpecialK Challenge) they came out horribly. BoBerrin said they looked like camel poop, which was an accurate observation. Little P said that he hated them and that they were the worst things he's ever tasted. I thought it was a bit flourey, and if we only had had a mixer, it would have come out better...

at any rate. My "cheating" was a HORRIBLE, tasteless round cookie. So it didn't count. Then I came home for a half hour before I was watching another set of cousins. I had a caramel Nip. It tasted good. And I enjoyed it.

Then I went and babysat until 7:30. I came home ready to eat anything that was thrown in my path, including rotting trash. Luckily none of that was around (because have you SEEN the calorie count in that?!), so I made some tyson's chicken, going all out with two sandwiches. And while I was waiting for the things to cook, I dove into a package of cookies.

I topped off the day by watching Supersize Me for the first time. The movie was really good. People say that watching it makes you not want to eat fast food ever again. Now, it did provide me with a momentary feeling of hesitation while they talked about chicken nuggets, but I do see myself indulging in McDonald's sometime in the future. But combined with my SpecialK attempt, it did kind of act like a nice warning.

From now on, I'm going to eat more healthily. Cut down on the soda, increase on the water. Cut down on the cookies, increase on the grapes and applesauce. And walk more than once a week. I'm not going to pass on a snicker's ice cream bar...but from now on I won't pass on the salad.

Looking back on my day, I noticed that I had been hungry for just about from when I woke up to my regular meal. That had made me irritable. Me being irritable negatively affected the eight cousins that I had watched at various points of the day. It made me go from daydreaming about getting a job to daydreaming about getting a tasty, filling lunch. There's no way in hell I'm doing the starvation diet for two weeks - I don't want to lose weight that bad, I just want to change my eating habits.

Is it possible to learn a lesson in one day? We'll see. I pick things up quickly, I don't need two weeks of punishment.

Thursday, September 15, 2005


My name is Meghan...

and I'm very interested in pop culture.

There, I've said it. For some, that's like posting a big "I'M STUPID" sign on my head. But I believe that intelligence and a love of the insignificant lives of celebrities can happily co-exist.

I was talking to someone at the Times this weekend and this guy asked me about sports and some other topic that I've already forgotten. For both questions, I basically was like "umm... I don't really care." But then I added "But I'm not always apathetic, I do have strong opinions on other matters!"

While driving back from Boston this morning, my mind was wandering back to that statement. What do I have strong opinions about, exactly? I mean, other than the usual questions of abortion, death penalty, McDonald's vs. Burger King. Personally, I think that Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey's marriage is fine. I think that Britney's new baby will grow up to be anything but well-adjusted, and she'll come to her senses soon and Federline will be a learning experience. I think that any pocketbook costing more than $1,000 is a complete waste of money no matter how rich you are, and that really nice clothes don't have labels on them. I can't believe that Angelina Jolie is only 30 and has done all this awesome stuff, and it scares me to think of trying to measure up to that. It seems to me that Mariah Carey has a huge insecurity problem, and I wish she would be happy with herself. I don't think that Gwen Stefani has a good voice. I kinda feel bad for Paris Hilton. And yes, I really do think that Keith Urban is that romantic in real life.

There. Yes, I have thought about all of these things. And I've tried to like politics, to become interested in the lives of the movers and shakers. But ask me who my county reps are (is there such a thing as a county rep?) and I'll have no idea. But I did just spend 10 minutes lying on my bed listening to the radio, where a regular guy from Syracuse talked about driving his Blazer to NYC with...George Clooney and Brad Pitt (!!).

And yes, I realize that ignorance is not very attractive. In fact, it's rather embarrassing. But I can't be a mule in horse's clothing - or rather, an issue of Glamour in Economist covers. The irony in this is that I'm not looking for someone who shares in my joy of pop culture. I want to pair up with someone who can teach me things about the world. But they have to realize that I'm not going to transform into Mary Matalin overnight, or ever. (and see, I only know about her because I think her love story is very fascinating. I don't know if she's the democrat or the republican.)

But just because I'm not into politics, it doesn't mean that I'm a dummy. I don't have that driving force in me, that glint in my eye that shows that I'm going to get to the top, no matter who I step on to get there. Okay, that's vicious. Not all politicians are like that. In fact, when I say that, I'm not even picturing politicians. I picture the interns and other people my age, those who see the golden ox down the road in 20 years and with one look at their charming smiles, you know you can't trust them one bit. These people are the ones who know your name even though you've met once, who commiserate with you but really, they don't care.

That's what turns me off from politics - the fact that you can't tell who the person really is. And one can argue that about pop culture as well. But it always seems like in politics there's a hidden agenda, as opposed to just getting rich and famous and loved by the masses.

Because of that, give me pop culture any day. In the meantime, I'm still attempting to cultivate a love and appreciation for the political world. But next time you see me glancing at a picture on the front page of the Post, you can bet that I'm thinking about what the person is feeling, as opposed to what he or she is really saying. And know that I'll read that article...after I get through with the Style section.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005


taking a chance

Day after day we put our hearts on the line. Sometimes in big matters, sometimes in tiny ones. I went to a job interview last week and after meeting the director, I was pretty excited about the whole thing. She and I got along fairly well, and it seemed positive. I got an e-mail from her today saying that because of monetary reasons, they decided not to hire anyone for the time being.

Getting that e-mail stunk. I had gotten my hopes up - all the while saying "I'm pretty excited, but I don't want to get my hopes up!" - and then it turned into nothing. It even seemed like a step backward, because it was my most promising prospect.

But you know what? Once I finally get a job, all of this pain will make it sweeter because I will know how much it means to me. And not to be all sour grapes, but I don't think this company would have been the greatest place for me. In the end, I have confidence that everything will work out for the best. Sometimes maintaining and remembering that confidence is tough, but it's there, even though it occasionally bobs beneath waves of disappointment.

We also put our hearts on the line in other ways. Sometimes the action seems small to people who aren't in the situation. Getting the guts to text message the guy you like, daring to hope that he might think the same about you, or that he thinks you're worth the .10 it costs to send a reply. Daring to hope that that small action could open the doors to an entire future. Or maybe your step is looking someone in the face and lettings the walls that you've built up over the past few months come crumbling down. Being honest and dropping the brave facade that you've worked so so hard to maintain.

The crumbling of those walls do sometimes invite hurt in. No one likes hurt. But I've made the decision that any good that comes from being vulnerable is worth the pain. And lately, I've found that a lot of good has come from ...not from closing my eyes and jumping in... but from keeping my eyes wide open and taking the steps in front of me. Deliberately choosing to take an emotional risk.

Maybe when the costs start outweighing the benefits, I'll build these walls up again and block off my heart to potential experiences. These walls help me to think that I'm not getting hurt. But really, they're constructed of bitterness, pain, disappointment, and fear. Fear of things not working out. It's just a way of avoiding the hurt, until I'm lying in bed one night, not able to sleep, and finally not able to ignore memories and thoughts running through my head.

But living in those houses of pain, it's not the way to be.

To be honest, what I want to be is the answer to someone's prayers. Is there someone out there right now, looking up at the sky or down at their hands, thinking "If only I could the perfect person for this job?" And I somehow fit the bill. I know I had times when I worked for the paper, and I would just be hoping and praying for someone who could (and would) give the help that I needed. And those people came. They always did.

And I'm not going to reveal the secret wishes of my heart. I'm not even sure what they are. But I know that I'm sitting here, staring straight into my future. I'm scared. But I'm ready.

Sunday, September 11, 2005


not to diss myself but....goodness gracious.


time 1: meet new guy. We're talking about tattoos. He shows me one, and in the darkness I can't tell what it is and it looks really bizarre. I blurt out "what the Hell is that?!" He goes "oh,I got it in dedication of my best friend who DIED IN IRAQ last year.

after further observation, I realized that it was a helmet perched on top of a rifle, with a banner saying 4.22.04. whoops. I hope he's in heaven, laughing his butt off at my stupidity.

time 2: C-note was looking at my text messages b/c E had just texted me, and she turned to me and said "When did I leave in a huff?" Uh. It was then that I realized with alarm that C-note was reading a message from E from early summer, saying that while they were at a concert, C-note had left for a moment kinda angrily. But I had saved it because E had said in the same message that a guy had just proposed to his girlfriend at a keith urban concert, and I just think that is really cool.

so C-note, since you're my loyal fan of this blog and you always read it (You're awesome!), I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. :-(

time 3: E brings two CUA friends back to the apt. I must say, this is after I had gone to sleep on the sofa, E called and asked me to move to her bed. I go there, fall back asleep, E goes downstairs to open the door, then I go back on the sofa to talk to her and the two guys. One I'll call RR comes in, and says "This furniture - " and I cut him off to say "Is the most ugliest thing you've ever seen, right?" and he goes "Maybe. but it's also the exact same pattern, I swear it's really amazing, of all of the sofas in my house."


time 4: E had told one of the guys a little white lie saying that she had gone to the bar with me first, and then had met up at the place they had went. I didn't realize this. So, while talking to the two guys, I was having my own pity party and said "So, then after LW didn't show up (OH YES LW I SAID IT) I decided to walk to the bar... alone (SORRY MOM!). And then I went in - alone." Reallly stressing the alone piece.

E got this Deer in Headlights look, and I didn't know why at the time. It turns out that it ruins her whole "I just happened to run into you!" story.

THIS IS ALL LAST NIGHT! How do I have friends?!?! AHHHHH!!!

Friday, September 09, 2005


Living it up

just to blast any illusions that any of you may still have about how cool I am and about what an exciting life I lead, I would like to prove once and for all that I am certainly as boring as the rest of 'em.

It's Friday night, 8 pm. Supposedly all of the people who are cool are out right now, wearing shimmery clothes and laughing with their friends under bright street lights.

(okay, so those people sound like hookers. but I'm picturing some picture spread in Glamour.)

Me. I'm sitting here, just polished off a bowl of easy mac, WRITING IN MY BLOG, wearing a gym outfit (albeit coordinated). However, I do have big plans for the night. i'm going to paint my nails in a few, then I'll look up a place that I have an interview at monday. Then I'm going to see a scary movie by myself at union station, surrounded by freshmen CUA students, none who will recognize me, thank goodness.

I will then walk back to the apartment, completely paranoid because of the scary movie, and I'll breathe a sigh of relief when I make it to the police station one block from the apartment. Because that's my mental safepoint.

but an hour after that - E comes home from work (why am I complaining? at least I'm not working!) and then we'll go to the Times and work on our pool skills. Which somehow seem to be getting worse with each day that goes by, but that's all in the fun of it.

Now, even though I've admitted all this, for some reason I still feel cool and like a good catch. It's kind of like a realistic preview to when I move down here - this shows that every night is not going to be a Meg-centric party, there are going to be some nights when I feel lonely and very much like the Plan B of people who are out living it up with their Plan As. The key is to recognize these nights when they come, figure out what I want to do, and then do it. Because, honestly. Just because I'm alone does not mean that I should be hiding indoors like a pariah!

Thursday, September 08, 2005


A list, edited version

today I:

*got picked up at a metro station in suburban maryland with E to go to a car dealership. It was supposed to be a shuttle. Instead, it was Cesar, E's future Chilean boyfriend, driving in his own turbo charged sports car. I'm pretty sure he has a crush on E, so I'm pretty sure he wanted to murder me when she climbed into the backseat and forced me to sit in the front.

*while at said Chevrolet dealership, I remarked loudly on the presence of a Ford in the parking lot. I believe I said "UH oh, FORD. what's THAT doing here?" While walking by, my watch happened to hit the side of the car and make a loud noise. Cesar looked back, alarmed.

(after some internet research, I found out later that the dealer owns a pluthora of dealerships...including several Ford ones)

*rode around unauthorized in the "El Zol" radio station Escalade with C-note, handing out plastic keychains to neighborhood kids.

*was caught by a young and attractive police officer singing my heart out to Sara Evans while at a red light. He laughed (good naturedly, not meanly) and smiled.

*walked down the stairs tonight at 8 and a guy who was passing me said either "have a nice day" or "have a nice date." I hope it was the first, because I replied "you too!"

*hung out with my friend Lisa (, who I haven't seen in about 2 years. We were at a bar, and I left early because of an appointment tomorrow morning. While on the metro, I realized, with horror, that I had walked out without paying for my part of the tab.

I think that about sums it all up!

Wednesday, September 07, 2005


REAL WORLD: Meg's daily life

la di dah

yesterday E and I were walking in Silver Spring and we were talking about how life is kinda sketchy right now. I don't have a job, she's not too happy with the way things are going in her world. I started going on about how just like in the beginning months of freshman year, life after college was the same. We didn't have friends, we didn't know what was going on. Then I said, "pretty soon, E, we are going to hit our stride. We are going to just hit it and everything will be smooth."

Then she tripped.

I have to start carrying around a video camera with me.

Yesterday I met up with L.W. and we had chinese food outside in a busy square. He was talking about some girl that he was interested in when this man came up to us holding a bunch of roses. Kind of looking over our heads, he goes "Now look at her, she's so beautiful. She is so beautiful."

At this point, I'm looking over my shoulder trying to find this stunning speciman of a woman that he was going on about.

He's still talking, and saying "Now, I don't know if you're at the beginning of a relationship, the end, or the middle, but she is just so good looking. You should buy her a rose to show how much she means to you."

I then realized that he was talking about me and L.W. And he kept going on and on, waxing poetic about me. I was blushing and feeling kinda foolish. And feeling like an unsuspecting pawn in this man's game! L.W. acts like the gentleman he is, and gets out his wallet and asks for how much he should buy the rose.

Rose Man goes "Now man, I can't make that decision for you. It's however much you think she's worth." So then L.W. says "2 dollars?" while I chime in "10 cents?" and Rose Man all of sudden stops his nice guy routine, makes a don't-mess-with-me face, and says "Hey. 3 dollars."

We left the rose on the bench for anyone who might come along to claim it. Maybe it brightened someone's day?

Today me, E and C-note visited one of our professors from the past two years. I'm totally in love with this guy. Not in an indecent way, but in a "I think he's the greatest in the whole world and my absolute favorite teacher ever" way. Well, he's been really sick. Like, seriously, dangerously ill. When he came to his office, he hugged us and we could feel how thin he's gotten. We talked for about twenty minutes, chatting about jobs, etc. When talking to him, you could tell by the way that he was looking at our faces that he was just so happy to see the three of us sitting in his office, talking and laughing. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but me, E and C-note really know how to light up a room. Something about the way we interact with each other that just works.

Then he had to go to class.

He thanked us profusely for visiting him. But really, it was our pleasure. We had missed him and had been worrying about him. He has been in our thoughts and our prayers. I'm sitting here thinking about him, seeing how his illness has changed his appearance and thinking about how he's still working hard and doing the best he can in everything.

So here's to people who change our lives, who taught us so many things. There are some people that you meet that you feel an instant connection to. They know how to talk so that you want to listen, they know how to make you feel fantastic and worthwhile. And you shouldn't let those people go, no matter where life leads you or no matter how hard it is to keep in touch with them.

because that connection is something that is very, very special.


and then a tangent became a story...

oooh this is a from D.C. post. See, even when I'm on the road and away from home, I'm still (semi-dedicated) to my blog.

on that note, Bub, if you're reading this, please make sure you feed Major Tom!

So, i'm tempted to say that so far things have been uneventful, but that would be a lie. Or a mistruth. The ride down was fantastic. The weather was perfect, and my dad let me borrow his ipod car adapter, so E and I had great music all the way down. I got to make a re-appearance as a DJ, and as E was the only listener, she got unlimited requests. I didn't actually hold up any signs during the trip, but we waved to a few people. I sang to one guy as we zoomed past, and he did this HORRIBLE eyebrow raising move that made me snap out of my whitney houston mode and feel like an utter fool.

but that feeling only lasted for a minute or so.

after arriving in our nation's capital, E and I met up with T and C-note in our favorite bar. Seeing as how it was Labor Day, no one was there since they had already gotten drunk the preceding days and nights. In fact, after a while, it was just me and E shooting pool and playing "All by Myself" on the jukebox.

We ran into a few people from CUA, and it was nice to say hi to them. I felt like a loser because I happened to be wearing a shirt that said "catholic university", and I felt like it may as well have said "can't move on." But it was good that I had least changed out of my running shorts and sneakers and put on some makeup and brushed my hair, that way I looked semi-respectable.

Speaking of running shorts. On the ride down, we stopped at a gas station/dunkin donuts. After I got my bagel, I went to the car and took off most of the cream cheese that had been liberally applied. Then I walked back to the door of the DD to throw away the extra gooey stuff. The gas station attendant, summing up my outfit and longish legs said "Tell me. you run track, don't you." I replied "no, I don't run. anywhere." (which is true. I avoid running as much as possible.) He then said "Basketball, then? Do you play basketball?" Because I felt bad for him and I didn't want to ruin his dream that every girl over 5'8" plays basketball, I said "yeah...I middle school. BUT then I played volleyball in high school" - I said that because I felt like a lazy slug.

And whenever old ladies meet me, often the first thing that they say to me is "wow, you're really tall." or "you're a tall one." or "your parents must be really tall." (for the record, I'm taller than both of them. but I do have lots of tall relatives)

I guess the point of that long torturous tangent is to say that EVEN though I'm tall, I do not play basketball. I'm sorry, but if you're a short skinny male, I don't automatically assume that you are a jockey. And while I appreciate the niceness of strangers and my apparent approachability, it gets a little old insisting to people that I don't play basketball. And I'm not even that tall! (I'm a shade under six feet.) And random people (usually super short women) will sigh and say to me "wow, you're so lucky to be tall" in this envious voice. That makes me want to shake them, because being tall isn't all that's cracked up to be. Even though they've come a long way, pants are often too short. Old Navy ones look ridiculous on me. Almost every store has a petite section, but how many stores have a "long" section? My feet are larger than the average woman's, which means that Steve Madden, Nine West and most department stores don't carry shoes that fit me. And sure, I can see over large crowds (and at my new church, straight to the front of the line to the priest at communion) but at the same time, I rarely feel the feminine feelings of delicacy and daintiness. And guys. Let's not even go there. Many of them don't want to be with a girl who they don't feel manly and huge next to. That's understandable, but it also cuts out a biggg segment of the male population.

So when these short women are sighing and looking at me, I'm secretly sighing and looking at them. What would it be like to be short and cuddly? And to have pants that fit fine, and to have a whole array of shoes available to me? To sit in a movie theatre and not have my knees knock against the seat in front of me? To plop down on guys' laps, feeling as light as a feather?

And while I know that I wouldn't actually trade places with them for anything in the world, it would be nice to live in someone's size 8 shoes, just for a day.

The ultimate irony of all this is that when I meet a tall guy, the first thing I want to say to him is "wow, you're tall" in this awe-struck voice. If I get it, then they must get those comments a thousand times more frequently. I saw a guy in CVS today who had to be close to seven feet tall. I pictured him trying to get into a car, and not being able to fit in anything smaller than an SUV.

When I get this driving urge to talk about someone's height, I understand the gas station attendants and the old women of the world. I know that there's just something about someone taller than you or different from you that just makes you open your mouth and say inane things.

and that's okay.

Thursday, September 01, 2005


not sure I should be admitting this...

but I was totally just reading personal ads on craigslist!!

Whenever I'm bored and reading the paper...usually on a Saturday while I'm eating lunch, I take a look at the personal ads. Not to find someone to date, but rather to kind of see how people describe themselves, what they're looking for in a mate. When I'm feeling particularly ambitious (and simultaneously aimless) I'll pair people up from the different columns. SWM in column five looking for a sensuous older woman? I've found your match in column three!

I've always wondered if they've checked out their fellow posters for a romantic connection before posting their own ad - I guess it would be their homework, romance course # 405. (A tiny) part of me has been tempted to call numbers to alert them to a possible match. I mean, what if their soul mate was looking for someone in the same paper? And they were so close to finding one another? Luckily I've been able to head off that temptation.

So tonight I was kinda bored, and after checking out the jobs that were posted today I decided to see who exactly was posting on the "men seeking women" list.

Oh my goodness. There are some doozies. One that especially....took my breath away, shall we say, was "Married Man looking for Married Woman." The post went on to say that the guy was married, but was looking to have an affair with a married woman. She must be married, so that they'd be equally invested in the "adventure." There was also a treatise written by some guy saying that women claim to want all these things, but when it comes down to it, he's the whole package, but no one dates him and he wants to know WHY NOT?!?!?

I wanted to tell that guy that perhaps he was coming on too strong and too bitter for any sane woman. But he hasn't written to my advice column, so I decided to leave that one be as well. There was another called "Will you be my substitute girlfriend?" Apparently this guy's girlfriend is abroad, and he's looking for someone to hang out with and have witty conversation on the weekends. Which is okay. We all need new friends! But calling her a substitute girlfriend?

Another one was titled "On my own, and a little lost! - 43" 43?! And he can't find his way around. Perhaps he meant that he was lost in the spiritual and emotional sense. Perhaps I'm too literal.

After reflecting on all of this, I've decided that I'm an awful person. These people are putting their hearts on the line, and I'm effectively taking my mom's meat tenderizer and pulverizing their (sometimes) good intentions. And who am I talk?

But there were a few cool people. And I'm going to post one of my favorite ads down below. If you want to date this character, go to craig's list, washington DC version, and he's under Wed. Aug 31.

Good luck everyone in the dating game! and be safe!

Looking for a geek girl - 27
I'm a computer programmer. I'd like to find a female who is also a programmer, be it c++, java,, what have u, let's discuss programming methodologies and how we can shape our world through programming. R u pickin' up what I'm putting down. ok there's gotta be at least one female programmer out there, if so, gimme a holler, cuz I'm dying ta meetchya!


Do You Have Adult ADD?

Next week I'll be in D.C.! E and I are driving down - well, she'll be driving and I'll be in the passenger seat. It's a 10 hour ride minimum...but that's without stops, haha. On that note, if any of you have good ideas for signs that I should make and hold up when we pass cars, let me know!

At any rate. I'll be in D.C. from the night of the 5th - the morning of the 13th. So if any CUA friends are reading this and want to meet up during that time, give me a call! And if anyone wants to do touristy things, but their friends don't want to because they think it's dorky, definitely give me a call. I love that stuff.

All of you might shun me because of what I'm about to say...but I LOVE the new backstreet boys song "Just Want You To Know" - I think I've listened to it about 28 times in the past few days. I love the raw emotion, the feelings expressed, the back beat. If I could date a song, I would date this one.

It would probably end up being a fling, though. There's no way this love affair can last longer than three weeks, if only because of over-exposure. We'll see!

I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT IT'S SEPTEMBER. Holy moly. This summer didn't turn out how I expected...perhaps that's because I was hopelessly naive and optimistic and thought I would have a job by now. But it's been a good one. While I'm writing this, I'm thinking about how I detest "end of summer wrapups" (ugh remember those flashback Saved By the Bell episodes?), but there's room for a little reminiscing. I got to spend a lot of time with my family, I got to visit Washington twice, I also got a lot closer to some people that I had known at CUA, but didn't talk to that much when I was there.

So that's cool.

I'm sorry I haven't had any funny/stupid experiences to relate as of late. So that's made for a pretty boring goo.

but maybe that will change soon.

time to set the table!

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