Tuesday, February 28, 2006



It will be the most fun in the world. (as I-66 keels over and dies because I'm participating in another trend.) I've played in four pickup games. Out of all of those games, I got home once, got on base two other times, and caught maybe two balls. But they still let me play.


It's $47, the season runs from March 19 - July, with games on Sunday afternoons. Drinking and debauchery after at the Ugly Mug (in Eastern Market).

TEAM NAME: Cack'n'Ballaz. (shirt color is yellow)
We're a new team. Only 12 people. We need some more, otherwise we'll have to forfeit frequently. And that would be very embarrassing, as well as no fun.

The people are super nice - they know all of our names, and are very welcoming. Even understanding when someone like me changes teams not once, but two times.

Please. Give it a thought. And this is an open invitation - CUAers, buddies, random blog people.


Saturday, February 25, 2006



I-66 left a comment on last night's mini-post asking (in horror, I believe) if I really have Uggs.

I have to confess that I do, and they are a recent purchase at that. I went to some outlets with my mom this weekend, and we found them on a table. So Soft. My Size. And $35. Begging to be tried on. I took them for a turn around the shop, and all the old ladies (probably plants) cooed over them.

To me, buying Uggs presented a serious dilemma. I HATE CONFORMING TO TRENDS. So much that I'll avoid certain things if they're trendy, and I become devastated if something I love becomes trendy, e.g., long skirts. I don't want to follow the crowd. I mean, I'm not going to make waves against it (I don't have oversized sunglasses burning parties or anything), but I don't want to buy something just because all of the "cool people" are doing it. (and in that vein, I had/have similar feelings about blogging. Everyone is doing it. Does it make it better that I had one after freshman yesr of college for about eight months?)

and if these Uggs had presented themselves to me six months ago, I probably would not have bought them. But I justified my purchase in several ways:

1) They're purple.
Everyone knows that the cool Uggs are tan and black. Purple is bargain basement fodder. Therefore, by wearing them, I am nonconforming in my conformity.

2) They were $35.
When I got home and showed them to my adorable fashion plate 12-year-old cousin, she ecstatically exclaimed that her friend Lauren just got the same pair. Only...she paid $160. I stuck it to the man!

3) Uggs have jumped the shark.
They really are no longer the epitome of cool. Really, only the untrendy or diehard fans are sporting them now. An indication of this is when you find pairs in an outlet frequented by housewives and grandmas, on the hunt for gardening clogs and miracle cloths.

So, yeah. It wasn't easy. I even called my younger brother (who scorns all that is cool) to see if it would be horrible for me to make the purchase, but I could tell he wasn't in the mood for discussion, since he said "Meghan. Just BUY them."

I proudly sport them, but hopefully with an air of irony. They're rather ugly (who am I kidding? They're full-out hideous), and they strongly resemble moon boots. But they're warm. And as a girl who is always cold, that is an invaluable commodity.

And I wore them to the bar, with a jean skirt. Would a trendsetter do that? I don't think so. Not on a Saturday night, anyhow.

Coming up in days to come: to tan or not to tan?

and PS - I brought my laptop to the Geek Squad at Best Buy, and I'm being charged $60 in order for them to figure out if something is wrong, and if so, what it is. A tad excessive, if you ask me. I turned it on before I left, to prove to myself that it's broken. It is. I bring it to the store, flirt with the guy who was working (he's either 19 or 24. C-note and I didn't quite catch that), and then when I go to turn the laptop on, the stupid thing works. Perfectly fine. When filling out the computer form, the guy said "Now, what should I say the problem is, since it seems to be working fine?" I responded "Hypochondria and a desperate need for attention." Sigh.

Friday, February 24, 2006


a teaser

Tonight I'm playing "at what point does the Times not let me in, due to dress code reasons"

I'm sporting - my gray Fordham t-shirt (yay Tans!), a short jean skirt, and...

my new purple uggs, which strongly resemble moon boots.

Let's see how this night plays out.


Wake, Unplugged

Faithful readers, you guys are fantastic.

So Friday afternoon, on the way from the airport to our destination, my mom, grandparents, and I stop at Applebees. My mom gets up from the table to wash her hands. I'm perusing the menu, mentally weighing the hefty decision of "oriental chicken wrap vs orange chicken" when my Grandmother casually says, "Oh, by the way, we decided that if they want someone to speak from the family, it's going to be you."

I chuckle - oh, those grandparents! - and my Grandfather pipes in "oh, no, really. We're going to put that communications degree to good use."

My mom comes back just in time for me to continue to pretend that that didn't just happen (it seems like "pretending something didn't happen" is becoming a pattern in my life), we ordered food, and everything went on as normal. I got the oriental chicken wrap, by the way, and it was extremely tasty. In fact, I wish I had one right now.

Fast forward a couple of hours. We're at the convent, in the wake room. My great aunt is lying there...so weird. I look at the body - at her - and work hard to suppress the "run away as fast as you can" response that is swiftly rising in my belly. Too disconcerted to say a prayer, I go through the cross motions at the casket, try to look appropriately pious, and turn to make a beeline for the back row. Too late, my eyes connect with my Grandpa, in the front row, and he pats the seat next to him.

I sit down, and realize that me and Great Aunt Mary are basically chillaxing together. Lovely. Then he leans in to me, and whispers conspiratorially, "We told them that you would be speaking." Guess it wasn't a joke afterall.

I look back to my mom, in a panic, and mouth (actually, I say) "Are you Freaking Kidding Me?!!" She comes up next to me and whispers in my ear stuff about how my aunt was so holy and she was always thinking about us, and we knew that she was praying for us, yada yada yada. I think she was frightened for me. I mean, you guys prettty much know me. The possibilities for sticking my foot in my mouth up there were endless.

The wake goes by waaaay too fast, in my opinion. I personally believe my aunt deserves ten readings. And stuff to talk about was spinning through my head like that crazy wheel on the Price is Right. Too soon, it's time for the family members to "have the opportunity to share some stories." My grandparents, as one, turn and look at me, expectantly.

Now, I don't know what your grandparents are like, but mine are formidable. My Grandma is probably 5'8", and my Grandpa is over 6 feet. They're not cute. My Grandma would be highly offended if you called her cute. These are not people that you mess with, or turn down a request. My grandparents don't take BS.

I casually bolt to the podium on the stage, and try to casually look at the casket as if I'm checking out the view. I take a look around - there are scores of nuns, sitting with their hands folded in their laps. There are my aunts and uncles, looking at me and praising the Lord that I was up there, and not them. So all in all, a good, receptive, easy audience.

And good thing, because what followed was truly cringe-worthy. I honestly think I blacked out in order to keep from dying from embarrassment when trying to remember.

A few key phrases (picture me saying it with a smile on my face and a perceptible quiver - from adrenaline - in my voice):

"Umm..Well...this is my first wake. So please bear with me, and I hope you'll forgive me if I do horribly."

"My Great Aunt Mary....she truly was a great person."

"When I visited my aunt, she was absolutely horrified to find that I don't cook. So, if anyone has any good recipes to pass along, I'd love to share the results with you."

"A lot of people my age think that the elderly aren't cool. But you guys are totally amazing. My aunt, she was really into technology and into learning about new things...like my cell phone."

Yes, I know. I really said all of those things. And to answer the question that someone has asked me, yes, this is on a tape somewhere. But my friends. There was a saving grace. Something in there that made everyone look beyond my well-meaning, yet pathetic, blunders.

I. told. The Nail Polish story! And I got rollicking laughter!! I brought the house down at a wake!

That story saved my eulogy.

There are tons more memories from this weekend - seeing my aunts and uncles in the parking lots and giving them hugs and kisses, having a five foot nun wrap her coat around me while we were freezing at the cemetery ("They were looking at you with hungry eyes, Meghan" - my mom. "Tell them you like boys!" - my mom's sister.), my Uncle Tom almost tripping into the grave when carrying out his pallbearer duties, my grandmother's other sister pulling the cross and rosary beads out of my Great Aunt Mary's hand in order to take a closer look at it. The horror!!

(Since I had wheeled that great aunt to the casket, I was wondering whether I'd be considered an accessory to robbing from the dead. Luckily she put everything back, and I didn't have to wade through that moral quandary.)

I'm going to miss her. And there's the honest feeling of knowing that I wasn't the greatest niece. (and don't all of you go saying I was a great niece. for real.) But I remember the amount of pain that was in her voice when she spoke of finding out about her brother's death. It was as if it had been the previous week, not 70 years before. And I felt the sadness in her voice when we talked about her mother. I think that she's with them now.

"So um...my aunt was totally awesome. And she's watching over us right now, with a big smile on her face. At least, I hope!Thanks!"

Friday, February 17, 2006



This week I'm sticking to the brevity theme, I suppose.

Last night my laptop exploded in my lap...well. I wasn't even using it, and the screen turned a lovely cream color, with thin red and blue vertical stripes. What would be an adorable shirt was a horrifying look for my computer. I tried to turn it back on, etc etc. This morning it turned on, only to look all static-y and matrix-like. And it just did that a minute ago. So, my solution at the moment is to pretend that nothing is wrong and that it will go away, but if anyone has any actual real ideas, they would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and it had passed its virus scan on Monday with flying colors, so I don't think that's it.

All of that is to say that I'm on C-note's computer. Thanks girl!

I called my dad this morning to say happy birthday, he responded with the news that my great aunt passed away yesterday. Saddened and shocked, I managed to compartmentalize until I talked to my mom on the phone 15 minutes later. I was in my office, struggling to not cry - you know how it is when you know that if you say one thing, just open your mouth, it will all come out? So I went into the bathroom, finished the conversation, and gathered myself. Tried to smooth my hair (that was due to the humidity and my poor brushing skills, however), splashed my face with water, and attempted to will the redness out of my eyes.

I was supposed to fly home tomorrow, to go skiing in NH with my family - but instead, half of my family is coming down here. My grandparents are flying up, my mom down, six of my aunts and uncles are making the eight hour drive tonight. So, instead of flying from Dulles tomorrow morning...I'm going to BWI tomorrow afternoon to meet with my mom and grandparents, then we're going to drive to undisclosed-to-blog-world location. Saturday night I'm flying home with my mom, Sunday we're driving to NH, Tuesday we're driving back home, Wednesday I'm flying back here.

Just cause I know all of you are fascinated by my wherebouts.

I read this a couple of weeks ago, I forget where:

"When an old person dies, a library burns."

Tuesday, February 14, 2006


Love, Sweet Love

About to go out with C-note and E. Look out, World! (or, you know, the bar)

Why I love DC:

A homeless man worked tirelessly to boost my ego today as I walked in and out of CVS. My favorite lines: "Oh!! You're so gorgeous, you gave me whiplash!" and "Don't go breaking any hearts tonight!"

Oh, homeless people. You will always have a big place in my heart.

On my way back from work, the Metro driver was calling his speeding locomotive "The Love Train." As in "This is The Love Train, pulling into Metro Center, in the direction of Glenmont. Happy Valentine's Day, and have a wonderful night." "All Aboard the Love Train!"

The love train! How can I not love the Metro, with employees like that?

Love Actually...IS all around. You don't need a man to see it, open your eyes and notice it in your friends. And if you don't have any close friends...look at the people around, carrying the flowers. Smiling at little kids carrying balloons that say "Be Mine."

I'm not bitter this year. It's fantastic. Happy St. Valentine's Day! <3

Monday, February 13, 2006



The essence of a person, those things that you don't know, but want to find out when you're attracted to someone, want to get to know him. Things like...his last name. Seeing where he lives. His email address. You know, basic stalking stuff. Things that aren't important to the masses, but suddenly become important to you because it's someone you care about, and you're collecting his information like beanie babies.

Or other things that are intangible. Favorite foods, the way that he smells, the color of his eyes in sunlight, and the color when it's dark. What he dreams about at night. What he's afraid of. The butterflies that alight when you hear his name. The way that you can't help but turn after you separate, to get one last look.

If someone is so wonderful to you, but you don't want to know those things...does that mean the spark won't come? That it won't ignite? Or is it just taking its time?


What on Earth?

Last night I woke up at 4 a.m. to find that I had put my clock radio under my pillow and had been sleeping on it.

Apparently it had been bothering me, because now my neck hurts. Weird.

Saturday, February 11, 2006


an attempt at brevity

A short post, for those of you who like your meg goo in tiny bits.

C-note is the parallel parking queen.

I had Ben's Chili Bowl last night - good, but um...nothing to write home about.

I watched the Olympics tonight. I'm the obnoxious type of person who says stuff like "oh, that's pathetic, you FAT COW!" Not meaning any of it, of course.

Right now I'm reading "Honeymoon with my Brother" by Franz Wisner, and it has honestly become my favorite book. I'm going to be sad when it ends, but I can't put it down. Some pages I read a couple of times, for the sheer joy of it.

It's about a guy who is dumped by his fiancee five days before his wedding. Since all of his friends have already made arrangements, they still come for the weekend, and he has a big party. His younger bro then goes on the honeymoon with him, where they then decide to quit their jobs and go on a long trip around the world. Like, two years long. So good. So funny. So randomly insightful.

JC - YOU HAVE TO READ IT. Even though I don't really know you and your bro, it reminds me so much of you two. It's like an extended/cohesive version of clarkbar.

I went to Facundo's movie showing today. At the end, people got up and talked. This woman held up a card that she was going to give to Facundo, but never did.

On the card, it said, "Life is short, but it is wide."

Friday, February 10, 2006


A Cast of Characters

So tonight my friends and I went to this bar that we recently started patronizing. Kinda a lot. So much so that I haven't been to The Times in....*pregnant pause*....almost TWO weeks. I know.

On the drive back (I was DD, though the girls were 98 % sober) we were talking about the merits of this new-to-us place. First, it's nicely shaped. The main floor is rambling, with widely accessible bars. There's a bit of room to dance, and that space is also the "mingling space." In addition to the two bars, there is a back room that's pretty huge, and seems to be empty most of the time. Also, there is a top floor, and that seems to be empty most of the time too. This area has another bar, and a little sitting/dancing area. There is also the main staircase, which we can use to make an entrance over and over again throughout the night.

So it has a nice floorplan, and there are spots to hide away and talk with friends (newfound or otherwise) outside of the blast of the speakers. So it has that going for it.

Secondly (and this is actually the main reason we like it, I think), it seems as though the guys there are oddly receptive to us. The guys there want to talk to us, and get in good conversations. They want to dance with us, but they're not all uber-sketchy. There is a bit of an older crowd, so - now, this is a generalization, so it's not entirely correct - it has a bit more of a mature feel to it.

Or maybe they're more drunk, I don't know. But they're super friendly.

I interacted with a couple of random people tonight:

Sharon: a guy from Sharon, Massachusetts. Was on our welcoming committee, and introduced us to his friends. Was disappointed when we invariably ran away.

"Old guy looking at us": This guy was watching the three of us while we were dancing, and we could tell he was going to make a move. We just weren't sure how. It became apparent when he came up to me, put his hand on my back, and asked for my advice about something. Me, give advice? Hi, I moonlighted as a columnist during the summer. The dilemma? His friend's new girlfriend found a shoebox of memorabilia from the friend's last relationship in friend's closet. Was she psycho for being antsy about it? We definitely did not think so. I advised the friend (who did not seem to want our advice) to talk to his girlfriend and ask her what would make her feel comfortable. Because the important thing was making the person you care about comfortable. We escaped when C-note and E said "Well! We gotta go check out guys now!"

DOD: This guy approached me about my Syracuse hat, and we talked for a bit. He mentioned a girlfriend. Good to know, and I went on my merry way to get some water. Where I met...

England: Still in school, at AU. Short and sporting a leather coat. Kept mentioning that he went to London for a semester. Clearly kind of uneasy in the bar setting. I think he had come alone, and we waved to each other several times across the room.

After dancing with friends, laughing at the moon, DOD approached me again, and I eventually pointedly asked about his girlfriend. He informed me that, actually, she's just this girl that he's been dating, but they're not officially together. Apparently she really likes him, but he's not feeling it. She's a sweet girl, and she's growing on him, but he's not sure if he should feel a spark without trying. We then chatted about his job, and traveling. He went to Greece for a year, I went to Italy for a week. Common Ground! When I left, I asked him to be kind to the girl.

Danced a bit more with the girls and DV - they all always makes me laugh when dancing - and then a really drunk guy came up to me. I'll call him -

Tall: Was obsessed with the fact that I'm tall. Asked me questions like "Do you ever sit down to try to hide your height?" "Do you find that a lot of guys want to date you because you're tall?" He also said stuff like "I wish I were sober, because usually I'm witty. I'm trying to pull it together." The line of the night was "I can't take it, your jeans and your pointy shoes and curves."

And I'd to point out right here, for all of you, especially for my baby bro, that I was not dressed revealingly. Jeans, kind of rounded toe flats, a long sleeved t-shirt with a collar to my neck, and my green blazer.

Tall was in love with me. Tall was very drunk. I got Tall's number, since he was taking 20 minutes to get to the point of asking for mine (for real) and I felt like cutting to the chase. Will I call Tall? I don't know. The reason he was out getting drunk was because a "semi-girlfriend from work" decided that she didn't want to be his semi-girlfriend anymore. And all of his male work friends didn't understand that getting drunk wasn't the answer. Hmm.

Do I have rebound written all over me? Because that's what it feels like lately.

I also briefly danced with this huge dude, who was like "let's bump and grind!" or something, and I told him that I didn't do that, not with people I don't know. So he held my hand and we did some dancing, leaving room for the Holy Spirit, and he said that he could tell that I felt it in my soul. hahaha.

Now, that was just me. Imagine all the attention hotties C-note and E got!

We love this place. (and did I mention that if you bring your own cup on Thursdays, you get beer for a dollar? Up to 64 ounces.) The only catch? The bartenders are kind of jerky. Think Gotti Bros. attitude. If only I could take Wallace with me from The Times.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006


coming up later tonight...

An interactive entry!

Vocab words for making up sentences!

(I'm way too excited about this)

Monday, February 06, 2006


Hospital Topics

Sunday E drove me to Baltimore to visit my sick great aunt, who had been in the hospital for almost a week. The day before the trip I stopped by Union Station and searched the mall for random stuff that would possibly appeal to an 84 year old nun. I settled on body lotion from the Body Shop (although her skin is super soft anyhow...), a card with a Scripture quote on it and some heart and sun stickers, and a really soft stuffed elephant.

We got turned around only a couple of times on the drive, and found the hospital a bit through trial and error. We walked in, I gave my aunt's name, we got our flimsy purple construction paper passes and we proceeded directly to the cafeteria. Hey, we figured we wouldn't be any good to my aunt if we were hungry! Once again, we were foiled by the Christian ideals of Chick-Fil-A...why does it seem like we only try to go to that place on Sundays?

Much like when we were driving, it took us a couple of tries to find the right elevator. We got in, pressed 5, got out. Entered the hallway, lined with doors, rooms full of the ill and infirm. Those white floors always seem so strange and sterile, and I felt an urge to just turn and run. Better to pretend that my great aunt is fine, instead of suffering and scared.

We go in, and she had been sleeping. I had that initial moment of "is that her? I think so...is it? I Think so..." She opened her eyes, looked at me in shock, and said my name with such happiness and disbelief. She was surprised to see me, even though I had promised the day before that I would come up, no matter what. She told me that she had called my grandma and asked her to pass along to my mom that she was getting discharged, so that I shouldn't come - but my mother thinks that my aunt had just dreamed that.

I saw a seat next to the bed - it kind of resembled a walker - and I settled down. E pulled up a little armchair, resembling the chairs that schools stock in their freshman dorms. We talked about DC, and where E and I live and work, we babbled about C-note, talked about how we cook dinner about once a week. I showed her my magazines, with my name in them. She took the elephant, and fell in love.

We talked about her mom dying, and about her brother Arthur dying in WWII at the age of 18. Just as I was inwardly pondering the health ramifications of depressing memories on the old, E chimed in with a comment of "oooh I love your medal! Where did you get it?" It was perfect, because my aunt told a story which was obviously dear to her, about a sister being woken by an angel to visit the Virgin Mary in a chapel.

We then talked about her care at the hospital, and she said that she had been bedridden for almost the week, and doesn't even get to get up to shower or go to the bathroom, she just uses the "commode" and pointed to me.

It was then that I realized that I had been sitting on the toilet the entire time, not some crazy chair with weird metal arm supports.

I showed her my cell phone, and she was amazed by it. We talked about how she was one of the first ones in her neighborhood to have a phone, and it was a party line, and one of those black boxes on the wall, with a horn and an operator. Unlike her nosy great niece, she said that she would never listen in. And she couldn't believe that my camera didn't need film. She wasn't like some stereotypical old person, afraid of technology - she was excited by it, and wanted to learn more.

At one point, I asked if I could paint her nails, and she wanted me to, but was afraid of what the other sisters would think. A modern woman complete with bravado and insecurities, I said, "Oh, who cares!...what would they think?" And she replied,

"Meghan. Daughters of Charity do NOT paint their nails."

E and I gave my aunt some space in the middle, so that she could eat her lunch in peace. In the hall, we spoke with Sister Joan, a volunteer who roams the halls, with a look of purpose and a word for everything. We also met a suspicious woman who is "a problem" who was accompanied by a "man who wasn't her husband." (Scandal!)

Leaving my aunt was horribly difficult. I felt as though I was abandoning her. She thanked us 100 times over for visiting, and said that it meant so much. I promised to come visit her when she's back at her regular hospital, only a two hour drive away. She called my Grandmother before we were two steps out the door, who then called my mom. I simultaneously won the Niece of the Year, Granddaughter of the Year and Daughter of the Year awards for just three hours of my time.

I don't deserve it.

Friday, February 03, 2006


It's friday!

and there are infinite possibilities for fun.

I'm having fun daydreaming about what to do after work (not that I've left my apartment yet to go there, but that's a small issue).

okay, definitely the bookstore, to buy Cathedral by Ken Follett. And Verizon, to pay my cell bill, haha.

but then what? Should I go out to dinner? Or the movies? Is there anything special going on at the museums?


Wednesday, February 01, 2006


Facundo Memorial Service/Screening of his movie

Holla peeps

Remembrance/Showing of Facundo's film at Gallaudet Saturday, Feb 11th. Be there, or be square. Or you know, the equivalent of a camera person operating without a tripod, on top of not white balancing.

for more info, go to facundo's blog. http://www.facundofriends.blogspot.com

I've been thinking about him a lot - in the past week, especially. Looking through my inbox the other day, I found an email from him from this past summer, after he had been called as a reference. Here it is:

got the call
did my best
i am confident it will work!




No! Bad! No!

okay. My workplace gets a Washington Post, for the use of the people who work in the building. It is placed in the lunchroom, a communal area.

Someone keeps stealing the Style section, and it's REALLY PISSING ME OFF. That is the best section...it has the comics, Ask Amy (and occasionally Carolyn), John Kelly's Washington, and all the fun fashion/flighty articles. It's a nice lunch time read.

Or rather, I gather it would be, if the person would not steal it for just one day. And when I say "the person," I'm being nice, since we all know who it is that takes it. It's an old lady.

Since I'm all about activism lately, I'm thinking of taking the bull by the horns and remedying the situation.

option #1: going the post-it/passive aggressive route, and leaving a message on the paper in the morning when I go to drop off my lunch. Something along the lines of "I hate you, die stupid old lady." Or, "The Style section lights up my life. Please keep it here."

option #2: go the "Getting it did" route, by emailing "All@workplace.org" asking that the paper is left in the lunchroom. I don't have the authority to do this...but why the hell not? They can't stop me.

option #3: complaining to the HR lady. Then, much like I would with option #2, I run the risk of looking petty. Or you know, showing my true petty colors.

option #4: when I get there in the morning, taking a few minutes to photocopy the Style section, and then putting it on the table, and labeling it "The Style Section for THE REST OF US."

option #5: I could always hide the Style section in a cabinet, and whip it out around noon when I grace everyone with my presence. (but that would make me just as bad as the thief).

Bub just told me some of his ideas....
bub: And I say you staple the style section to the rest of the paper in the morning
bub: or no, glue it
bub: so that they can't remove it
bub: or
bub: write on the cover "don't even think about it buddy"

I wish I had my partner in vengeful crime here with me to take action! For past adventures, reference "the pickup car on the side of the road" incident, August 11 and 12.

I'll do something tomorrow. I'm thinking photocopying, if I get to work early enough. I'll keep you posted, and possibly with pictures.

by the way, I just spilled pepsi on my keyboard. sigh.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?