Thursday, October 28, 2010

what the problem is

Stephen told me that extroverts get energy from being around other people while introverts get energy from being alone. Which explains why I get so exhausted at parties. And why I like going to lunch by myself. The thing is, the rest of the world doesn't really see my lonesome dining as awesome. They see it as sad. Accordingly, they treat me weird. Most people pretend I'm invisible. Like the two people in the restaurant, who, I kid you not, were no more than six inches away from me and gave each other a side hug, facing me. I was a part of their hug. They then proceeded to discuss what I have to assume is highly confidential information. I'd make such a great anti-social Private Eye.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

that seems so very mean

I heard a political campaign ad that used the term "Wallstreet pirates." Oh man. I wish there were pirates on Wallstreet (one word or two?). Imagine the New York Stock Exchange. Full of swash-bucklers. That's just what our economy needs.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


Sitting in a grocery cart waiting for her mom to pay, the little girl in the WonderWoman suit bounced anxiously, making her long blonde curls fly everywhere. She's going somewhere awesome. And I'm jealous.

Monday, October 25, 2010

they can't bring me down

Dear Thief who stole my running shoes,
I have leprosy.

Dear Chicken in my soup at lunch,
I'm sorry I didn't eat you. You were really dry. I hate that you died needlessly.

Dear Needlessly,
Are you a real word?

Dear Thai Village,
Thank you for the soup. It was delicious. But next time, please baste the chicken.

Dear Utah,
Thank you for having streets that are possible to navigate without two separate GPS devices.

Dear California,
Be more like Utah (see above.)

Dear Elko, Nevada,
You don't smell great.

Dear Rain,
Really? Three states and fourteen hours? Really?

Dear Fall,
Thank you for finally letting me dress like Paddington Bear again. It's been a long summer.

Dear neighbors who have built a bed and set out food for the stray cats,
This is called perpetuating a problem. But don't listen to me. I let a chicken die needlessly.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010


"911 Dispatch; what is the location of your emergency?"
"Uh, yeah, hi, Center Street in Provo."
"And the nature of your emergency?"
"One of those, um, barrier things tipped over."
"Hold please."
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Highway Patrol."
"Yeah, hey, hi, so one of the barrier thingies tipped over."
"On the freeway?"
"Off ramp or on ramp?"
"Um, the exit..."
"Is anyone injured?"
"Well, no, but you know, someone could be if it's not moved."
"The concrete barrier is destroyed?"
"Oh, no, sorry, not that barrier, the orange thing. You know, like a cone but not."
(Long pause)
"Ma'am what is your name?"
"Meg. Walter."
"And your number?"
"555-555-5555" (I gave them the real one, settle down.)

It's been a while since I've felt that dumb after a phone call. I don't know what the orange things are called. I know that it probably would have been ok if the minor obstruction went unreported. But what if? What if there was a horrible accident cause by the tipped orange not-cone? I couldn't live with that. I get that the dispatcher wasn't super responsive cause he was writing down all the important deets, but how hard would it have been to say "Thanks for being a good citizen!" or "You probably saved a life today!" or "That's ok, most people don't know what the orange thingies are called." Also, my name technically isn't Meg Walter. The government still thinks I'm Meg Morley. So who knows what sort of list I'm on now. Maybe the official "Liar" list that Obama looks over every morning at breakfast. All night I waited for he or maybe Joe Biden to call and say "Meg. Orange thingies tip over all the time. It's not an emergency. One more 911 panic dial and that's it. You'll be Canadian. And it's been five months. Change your name already you dirty liar."

Monday, October 11, 2010

The current zit to face ratio is probably the same as moon to earth. As in, sure it's not the biggest, but people are noticing. And pulling out their telescopes. And waiting for the eclipse. And dearest husband thinks it's soooo funny to tell me there is something on my face. "No, other side. Down a little. To the right. There," while I've ended trying to wipe away the blemish. And speaking of embarrassing appearances, I looked in the bathroom mirror at work and saw lettuce in my hair. This is incredible for two reasons: a) I have very short hair, and b) lunch was hours ago.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

your beauty is beyond compare with flaming locks of auburn hair

The sandwich was what one would expect of a sandwich that costs $2.99. And I wasn't surprised by the first bite of hoagie, turkey and swiss. But with the next bite my hyper-active taste recognition system processed "airplane food" and it was all over from there. With the next bite I started to smell an airplane, and then an airplane bathroom, and then I felt claustrophobic because I always sit in coach, and half sandwich I had to throw it away before reaching for the sick bag in the seat pocket. Mind you, this was all in my head. Sometimes it's really hard to be me.

Also, I was walking in an empty parking lot when a car stopped, waited for me to walk out of a spot, and then pulled in. It was an empty lot. There were spots all around. I don't understand.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

la la la la lola

Stephen is studying super hard for the LSAT. His doing so leaves me lots of free time. Free time in which I catch up on the cleaning, the sophisticated reading, and the prolific writing. Oh no, wait, sorry, that's what I should be doing. What I'm really doing is checking on my Mad Men itunes download. And rearranging my shoes. And laughing at this:

Monday, October 4, 2010


Late one night (or I guess very early one morning) we woke to the sound of yelling. Not normal yelling, insanely loud, profane, livid yelling. It was hard to tell exactly what sort of confontation was taking place, because it was only the one dude yelling, but he did repeat "WAS IT BRADY?" many times. And from there it wasn't too hard to deduce that the second person, the one speaking in a normal, too hard too hear voice had done something naughty with Brady. Well guess who showed up on our wireless network list...that's right. Brady. And he doesn't share, so I'm mad at him too.