I Am The Queen Of Pckrats

It's like 3 am and I am boxing up some old journals to be stored in my parents basement until I can find some efficient way to destroy them. I stumbled across a certifcate I received in the 5th Grade for being a, um, "Star Student." I have no idea what this entailed, but I sure didn't get one in high school. You know, when it actually might have, I don't know, MATTERED.

Anyway, I'm thinking that after I have my corner power-office at the top of some New York office building I should have it professionally framed and I should hang it next to my various degrees from assorted ivy-league universities.

It would be charming. There is a dog in a drum major's outfit marching behind a police dog in apolice car in the border. Also some dogs on a tandem bike. It's pretty classy. Also, I have apparently held onto it since June of 1999. Somehow it escaped the all-encompassing Mom Box of Grade School Treasures.

Speaking of these, I found boxes in our basement from kindergarten through like the third grade. Apparently whenever I finished a year she would tape them shut with packing tape. None of them have ever been opened. I like to imagine the poster-painted pictures of Mommy and Daddy and the clay "dinosaurs' have all melted into some kind of noxious gas and it's just waiting to kill us all.

Image Captions When Doing A Google Images Search for "Koalas" And How I Imagine Them to be Finished

Koalas aren't bears but very realistic and cuddly robots.
Baby koalas produced by artificial flavoring.
Koalas To Gaze Upon and possibly ponder.
Beware of koalas as they are fanged and dangerous.
Koalas live in social groups determined by their salaries, who they know, and where they vacation.
Shy baby koalas live in trees, not basements.
Even Koalas enjoy the beach. Especially shy baby koalas.
A truly wonderful holiday experience at the beach with koalas.
Koalas can't bear being sent to bed with no dessert.
Sleepy Koalas probably shouldn't drive.
Koalas have sharp claws for defense and would probably make terrible pets, especially if you have small children or other pets in your home.
Did you know that koalas live in my dresser?
Three of the eight koalas went on to ivy-league universities to pursue degrees in Law, English, and European Literature.
If it seems I use koalas very much it is probably because they are kind of adorable and furry.
Gum Trees n' Koalas: A Seminar on Tax Laws
Koalas are solitary animals so don't plan on inviting them to your New Year's Eve party unless awkward silence is your type of thing.
Koalas Are Clinically Depressed and should be treated for this crippling disease at once before it becomes something much worse.

Things College Has Already Taught Me

1. From now on, silverware is on your school supply list.
2. PB Teen is not an acceptable website to use when making your shopping lists because that little table? THAT IS FOOD FOR LIKE TEN YEARS. Also: whose dorm has large leaded glass windows that look like something out of a castle?
3. No matter how much you whine, extra-long twin silk sheets are not a necessity.
4. The phrase "But it will remind me of you!" wears out right around the time you use it to try to convince them that you will need a $41 set of silverware.*
5. Googling the phrase "dorm room" at 3 am will only make you more nervous because it will convince you 100% that it will be like living in a closet with a stranger.
6. Your room will looking NOTHING like the dorm room in that one Ikea ad.
7. Probably you do not need to drag along your 6' CD tower. Probably. Since as it is, at home, you are using a total of 6" of it.
8. Also you do not need 8 separate lists with a stunning variety of things on them. Condense!!!

I have exactly 5 days to pack. I have not started yet. Instead, I make lists on the Internet because clearly, it is productive.

*This excuse actually ran out a long time before then, but like that has ever stopped me before.

Dear College:

I realize that my goal of getting a full ride scholarship to Columbia after I am finished with you seems lofty and unlikely, given my cumulative GPA of 2.1 in high school. I get that, okay. But you are not exactly helping me. Everyone says that extracurriculars are important in these kinds of processes. So...when you decided that the only clubs/organizations you would offer would be chess club and billiards club, were you high? I mean there is not even a student newspaper that I can find anywhere. And I do not think that Columbia is going to look t my application and see that I was president of the POOL CLUB and think, Oh, man! Let's definitely offer a scholarship with a value of like a million dollars a year at the most amazing university in the world to this person who can play awesome bar games really well.

At this point, College, I would settle for, like, an embroidery club. At least that is something I would not have to go out of my way to learn and then ultimately fail at.

Megan

Fights!

You'd think, living in a house with two teenage boys, that I would witness a lot of fights. But I don't. So when it happens, instead of charging at them, arms outstretched to wrestle one of them away from the other like my dad does, I flop down in the nearest chair (a safe distance away) and watch and yell things like 'KICK HIM IN THE GROIN!!!"

I get lots of dirty looks from my mom. But it's okay, because it only happens like once every two months.

Hello world!

I am in a fantastic mood today! For no real reason, I guess, considering I encountered no less than three sobbing people at work today. Perhaps it's because all the people I ran into and was forced to make small talk with today made me feel so tall and skinny and svelte and blond and...tanned! If you know me, you know what a magnificent accomplishment making me feel like that is. Because I'm pretty much none of those things, except maybe I'm kind of close to tall.

Anyway, one of these people was one of the, um, cooler girls in my group in middle school, and I always wanted to be so cool like her. And to this day, she looks the exact same, and I can honestly say thank you powers tat be for not making that particular wish come true. If I became a pretentious, upper-middle-class poli-sci major at Loyola University* I would shoot myself in the head. Except that I would be so spineless I would maybe only think about it and maybe think about hiring someone else to do it.

So: to anyone who stumbles across this, have a fantastic day/evening/whatever! I will be making up errands so that I can go sit in Starbucks and enjoy the secret stares from the hot dude I went to high school with!

*If you are a poli-sci major at Loyola, I probably don't hate you. Just, you know, every kid I hated in high school (because they were, um, pretentious, out-spoken, hippy-dippy teenagers) went on into poli-sci programs at pretentious universities across the nation. I am somewhat content with going to a school that is essentially an out-of-state, private community college to get my general transfer degree and then head off to a pretentious university of my very own to get my pretentious English degree so I can one day hope to have the pretentious title of Editor-In-Chief of something or other.**

**I make no excuses for my hypocrisy. I embrace it. As should you. Your own hypocrisy, I mean, not mine. That would be weird.

A Word To the Wise

When you have a custody issue and an elusive lawyer, and you are on the phone with his receptionist, do not EVER, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, begin sobbing into the phone. My first reaction is to hang up on you. Lucky for you, I realize the unprofessionalness of that, and will wait in silence for you to hang up first. There is absolutely nothing I can do to get him on the phone from where he is at his remote, out-of-service cabin, and, quite frankly, I am not even going to try.

...?

Hershey is eating a poptart. Is that weird?

--mk

I think this makes me an adult.

ME: I'll put my tax return money towards it!
RYAN: And how much will that be?
ME: ...Two dollars...BUT THAT'S TWO MORE THAN YOU ARE GETTING.

I filed my tax return today!

--mk

Stupid clock.

My mom got her weird, really old clock fixed. Now, on the hour, it makes
the noise that I imagine a drunk homeless person with a guitar would
make. I guess that means I'd better start going to bed at a normal hour,
its prbably going to scare the crap out of me.
--mk

Colobus Monkeys Are Satan

We went to the zoo today. It was all kinds of fun, wasn't it foot,
remember when you and me and the wheelchair decided to go rolling off
down that slight incline and we almost plowed right through a family of
Chinese tourists? Haha, yeah, and then I grabbed the wheels when I saw
what was going to happen if I didn't slow down and I got friction burns
on my hands and we all left skid marks on the walkway. AWESOME.

And then when Mom parked me right in front of the Colubus Monkey cage.
And wandered off before I could tell her that I have honestly, literally
had nightmares about Colubus monkeys and their weird faces and drapey
fur. They are like weird old ghosts, with hands. Although, the Nightmare
Colubus was the size of a wise old orangutan, and had a much more
similar face to the of the one with the blanket at the zoo. And it
chased me. And by "chased," I mean it floated around behind me making
spider noises. You know the noises spiders make. The weird clicking that
I am SURE I heard that time that big old fat tarantula-sized "house
spider" (that's what it really was, my mom brought it somewhere to ask)
crawled ONTO MY FACE while I was ASLEEP when I was only 8 YEARS OLD and
traumatized me for the REST OF MY LIFE.

Seriously, I love animals, and stuff, but going to the zoo is almost
entirely torture. Especially when those lemurs are making their weird
old bird noises.

That's why I like reptiles. All nice and friendly and silent and, you
know, and then they RIP YOUR HEAD OFF. But only if they are alligators
and crocodiles. And then the Gila monsters, which will POISON YOU TO
DEATH.

I did have one moment of pride, though. I pointed out to both my parents
that the little pile of white stuff? At the front of the cage? That's
Komodo Dragon excrement!!!

Now can you please send me to Purdue so I can be a reptile vet, Dad? A
reptile vet with SOUL??

--mk

Have I mentioned...

Dear Foot:

Recently I have enjoyed sleeping with my window open, because I can fall
asleep listening to Valley Frogs and the occasional coyote/wolf/rabid
dog. However, recently you have been swelling. Swelling inside a cast
that is not very forgiving at all . Between the stitches, muscle damage,
bone grafts, and subsequent bruising, I am awake all night already
without you shoving my tender foot flesh into the weird gauzy sides of
my cast.

I would rather not fall asleep listening to roosters crowing, birds
singing, cows lowing, and morning freeway traffic. It is weird and makes
me all disoriented.

Also: PLEASE stop with the burning and itching. IT IS RIDICULOUS.

Forever yours,
Megan

Ugh.

I'm gonna shoot whoever coined the stupid phrase "handi-capable."

I wonder if there are different classes of handicapped, like amateurs
and pros and things. I don't even qualify, I can't even get up the
stairs or into bed without having to take a breather.

And my leg is GROSS.

--mk

Surgery tomorrow!

Sooo...the first step in this whole surgery thing is finally done with.
A couple weeks ago, at the pre-op, they gave me the whole, you know,
lists and lists of things, what to bring, where to go, who to bring,
what to do before surgery, when to stop eating, etc. The night before
surgery, I was supposed to take a shower and wash with this nasty nasty
stuff called "Hibiclens". And, if you know me, you will know that I have
a violent gag reflex that is generally only triggered by poop and
rubbing alcohol. So, of course, this stuff was bright pink and smelled
like rubbing alcohol. Luckily, I managed to not puke. Somehow. It was
like rubbing alcohol scented cough syrup. EW. EEEEEWWW.

Don't ever get surgery.

--mk

Memo

Dear Flickr:
Before I begin, I want you to know that I delight in you and will most
like pay the exhorbitant fee of $25 just so that I can use you to store
as many photos of random objects as my heart desires.

However.

When I use your delightful search function to look for pictures of soap
bubbles to fight off insomnia induced boredom, I am displeased to find
that most of what you are finding for me...SUCKS. I do not want photos
of children taking bubble baths. I do not find joy in seeing old people
blowing bubbles in a field and laughing, because "OMG I am, like, 40
years old, isn't it hilarious and ironic that I am standing in a field
blowing bubbles with nary a child in sight?!" I am irritated that I am
finding entirely too many pictures of people blowing bubbles with their
gum.

So, Flickr, please step it up. I know there are lots and lots of
pictures of the type I am looking for, so where are they?? The only
reason I have not taken any myself is because by the time I've gotten
bubble soap off my hands to grab my camera, the bubbles have popped. But
if you are well behaved perhaps I will try to take a picture of one of
my glorious steam-filled bubbles so that you can be witness to what a
fabulous and accomplished bubble-blower I am.

--mk

I Hate Kids Movies.

What the heck kinds of names are Pongo and Perdita?? I have never heard
those names before in my life...how ridiculous.

--mk

I went to Pike Place Market today.

Hobo 1: I appreciate it, man.
Hobo 2: No, I appreciate it.
Hobo 1: No! I appreciate it!
Hobo 2: Well, somebody's gotta appreciate it.

I am not sure. One of them was holding a guitar.

--mk

What kind of tip is that?!

When you search for something on Google, a little tip comes up at the
top of your search results. This evening, the tip wassomething like,
"Save time by hitting 'return' instead of 'Search'." I am confused as to
who this tip is supposed to help save time. Like, ancient mummies who
really cannot move their arm from the keyboard to the mouse in under
three minutes? People who manage to misplace their mouse in between
navigating to Google and typing into the search box?

And also, I am curious as to what kinds of things these people are
searching for. I imagine things like "how many breaths can I cut out of
my day to save time" and "how much time does the average person spend
pooping in a day". Possibly even, "what can I do with the extra 2.3
seconds I am about to save by hitting 'return' instead of 'Search'.

Probably the only hit it would turn up is this blog. And, I just spent
a whole, like, ten minutes thumb-typing this, so I am probably not going
to be able to tell you what to do with that WHOLE EXTRA 2 seconds. I am
so sorry.

--mk

Can You Hire Paparazzi?

I think my favorite part of being a celebrity would be all the pictures
on the internet of me staring blankly at the display of packaged salads
and dressings at the grocery store. And, pictures of me spending like 12
minutes digging through my seemingly empty oversized bags trying to find
a set of keys, and when I pull them out and stick them in the lock they
aren't my car keys and they get stuck and I spend another half hour
using every muscle I possess to wrench them out of the lock.
Now do you understand why I might need a bodyguard??

--mk

How...

...did Justin Timberlake make it onto my "gangster" playlist?!

--mk

Why...

...is there confetti in the bread maker?

--mk