Monday, July 26, 2010

tell each other fairytales

Kamas City's Fiesta Days Demolition Derby. 3 cars rolled. 1 bloody, broken nose. 1 fire. So awesome.
I also learned to shoot a bb gun.
And I just ate beef jerkey for lunch.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


Please note: I am not pregnant. The following is nothing more than an indication of how ill prepared we would be to have a child.

I had a dream that some one gave us (The Walters) a new baby. I can't remember if it was a tester baby, or if we were tending, or really how we got the baby (which, according to Inception, is only logical). But anyway, I was going grocery shopping with the infant and it would not sit right in the shopping cart. I realize now that this was no fault of its (gender unknown), being but a week old, and yet I was so annoyed with thisu child's lack of abilty to balance while sitting, toppling over far too often for my tolerance limit.

Meanwhile, Stephen dreamed that I was pregnant, so we rushed to the hospital because apparently in Stephen's dream world gestation is about 30 seconds. I gave birth to a baby the size of a sea monkey ( his words), and then like those crazy foam toys you put in the bathtub, the baby expanded exponentially to the size of a standard new human, and said in a Brittish accent "It was rather hot in there." We named him Scott.

I would suspect these to be visions of things to come, execpt last night I dreamt of finding the ebola virus in space.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

knife fight

If one nips caramel is thirty calories, how many is too many?
If I was actually upset when Frank left the Bachelorette, how concerned should I be?
If a train moving at 70 miles an hour reaches the station at 2:51 pm and a train heading in the opposite direction arrives at 2:52, what are the chances that both whistles will blow outside my window? Likely, as it turns out.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

my name is

When I don't eat, I'm downright fussy.
This morning I had nothing more than a handful of sugar babies and a diet coke. And life was really hard. My coworker said he didn't like Modern Family. I decided to never speak to him again. I stared blankly at the error message on my computer screen, and felt tears welling. I wandered the streets aimlessly, knowing that I needed food but feeling too melancholy to want to eat anything. A car's engine roared as I tried to hear my phone converstation and I yelled "Yargh!" at the inconsiderate driver. No joke. I wound up at the grocery store, probably out of habit, bought some almonds, because they were there, made my purchase and walked out. As I chewed and swallowed one nut after the other, it was the like the rain clouds parting and the sun shining through on my previously dark and dreary day.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

hey, you, get off of my cloud

The entertainment industry has ruined me.
There was a report of the Mafia's growth through all of Italy. Am I concerned for the well-being of the Italians? No. I'm craving cannoli and doing Marlin Brando impressions.
Another report, this of George Steinbrenner's death. Am I greiving for his family? No. I'm thinking about that time George Castanza decides to act on the opposite of all his instincts and lands a job with the Yankees.
A final report of drug violence in Mexico. That's right, My Little Buttercup runs through my head.

Monday, July 12, 2010

have you seen her dressed in blue?

We may not ever be allowed back in an Urban Outfitter. But it's not our fault. The clothing gods must have determined that the Walters are simply not cool enough to set foot in hipsterville. It started while we were paying, and a frantic worker ran up to us holding a number of detached tags and asked, "Do you know anything about these?" I told him they were on the floor of the dressing room, because they were. He seemed unconvinced, but since we were in fact paying, he let us go with a glare. Slightly humiliated, we headed for the exit. But the doors beeped. Another disgruntled employee met us were we stood still, terriffied. She checked the receipt, found the magnet still on a shirt, had it removed, and we were on our way once more. But no. The doors beeped again. Stephen walked through. He was fine. I walked through. Not fine. we tried scanning my bag. It was fine. I walked through alone. Not fine. We checked everything I was wearing. There was nothing to set it off. Just me. Either I'm super magnetic and need to start captilizing on my powers by wearing a full body suit and changing my name no Meg the Magnetic, or it's a sign that I really do not belong in trendy threads.

Friday, July 9, 2010

one two jurassic crew

Is there anything more terrifying than driving behind a trailer full of port-a-potties loosely bound with rope? No. There isn't.
Speaking of...
Yesterday morning I was rushing to groom and get to work on time. I couldn't find my hair brush. It's not a large apartment. It usually takes ten seconds to find something. But the brush was no where I would have expected it to be, and with five minutes left before the essential departure time, I was panicked. Then to my relief I found it. In the bathroom trash. I assumed I had placed it there by mistake, and the bathroom trash is never gross, so I fished it out, brushed my hair and ran out the door.
Then I was talking to Stephen at lunch, because we're precious like that, and mid-sentence he stopped and said "Meg, did you use the hairbrush?". I said of course, and then he laughed. And then he laughed more. And then he said "It was in the trash." Turns out it was placed there by him. Turns out there was a reason the handle was wet. Turns out the shelf where the hairbrush sits is too close to the toilet.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Have you ever seen an In-n-Out employee not smiling? I haven't. And it's starting to make me nervous. We frequent that fine establishment more often than we should. And everytime we're met by at least three cheery employees. And they're not just holding a pleasant face. Not just looking pleased. No. They're flashing big toothy grins. When's the last time you had a toothy grin all day at work? What's going on in that kitchen of theirs? It has to be an occult brainwashing or drugs. Maybe both. Also, how often do they wash they're uniforms? Once every half hour? Because they're spotless. They work with fast food and they're white uniforms are without a single smudge. Does this not freak you out? Who are these superhumans? And why are they making hamburgers?

Sunday, July 4, 2010


Friday, July 2, 2010

gothic castle

Last night I woke up to the sound of a child crying. A child crying in our parking lot. And then it screeched. And then it hissed. And then I realized it wasn't a child. It was cats. Really loud cats. Cats that were either killing each other (which wouldn't be the worst thing) or making new cats (which would be the worst thing). I wasn't sure whether to cry, throw rocks, or laugh, so I laughed. That woke Stephen up. And in a dazed voice he said "Stupid Soviet cats."

In other news, we broke 30,000 hits. So I made us a cake.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

You want lobster. I'm thinking Burger King.

Stephen is looking more and more like Jeremiah Johnson everyday.