Wednesday, August 31, 2011

all my friends were vampires

Yesterday we received roughly 1/5 of our deposit from the Provo apartment management company with the following letter:

"Additional cleaning at new residents request: kitchen cupboards, drwares (their spelling, not mine), sink, floor, behind appliances, oven, shower, tub, sink, medicine cabinet, etc 5 hours at $35 an hour. Total charge against refund: $426.53
Amount of Refund: $73.47"

This is outrageous for many reasons, since we passed our cleaning check, were constantly told how clean our apartment was, scrubbed the sink raw, blah blah blah. But what really gets my goat is that I spent five years and thousands of dollars on a college degree when it turns out that I could be making $35 an hour cleaning medicine cabinets. That's nearly double my current earnings. EDUCATION FAIL.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

baby darlin dollface honey

I could be wrong, but what I've learned from my various interactions with professional animal people is that those who choose to work with animals for a living are usually not great at interacting with humans. For example, yesterday I was buying dog food at Petco and the following conversation ensued:

Me: Do you sell heartworm medication here?

Nice Teenage Boy Cashier: Um, I think it's on aisle 5.

Scary Eavsdropping Dog Trainer: We don't sell it here, but if your dog gets heartworm he will die.

Wow. Super helpful. Thanks.

A few hours later I had another customer service adventure. I was just wrapping up a gift card purchase on when my session timed out. So I called the toll-free hotline and was sorely disappointed when a robot answered. The most horrible kind of robot, a "voice recognition" robot. A voice recognition robot who only sort of understands english. After answering Yes and No to 20,000 questions Ms. Robopoopface asked for my phone number. I recited 555-555-5555 (changed for blog safety, obviously). "Ok," she said, "Did you say 792-583-4639?" Not even close. It was late and I was in one of those moods, so this struck me as the funniest thing I had ever heard. When asked to repeat the number, all I could do was giggle. Then laugh hysterically. Five tries and ten minutes later, I was finally pulled myself together and repeated my number with perfect clarity, and then Ms. Robopoopface determined that my number was not on file and transfered me to a flesh and blood representative, just like always.

Monday, August 29, 2011

certainly certainly

There is no bad part of a banana cream pie. With most food there are good and bad parts. Parts that you seek out, like the mushrooms in an omelette, and parts that you avoid like the bone on a pork chop. But every part of banana cream pie is delicious, and I don't really even like bananas. I do, however, like bananas covered in vanilla pudding and whipped cream placed atop a graham cracker crust. Is it the perfect food? It just may be. Did the two of us eat half a pie in one sitting? I don't want to talk about it.

I had always heard that pregnant women become extra emotional. I thought that meant getting upset really easily. I envisioned myself furiously breaking plates and bawling and making Stephen fear for his life. But it hasn't been like that. Instead, I am moved all the freaking time.  It takes very little to give me goosebumps and misty eyes. So little in fact, that I cried at the end of School of Rock. I cried when I heard Beyonce was pregnant. I cried thinking about the Kennedy assassination. I cried shopping for baby clothes online. I've turned into one of those people that I used to look at in disbelief and ask, "Why are you crying?!" and one one of those people who answers, "Because the cat on the commercial is enjoying his Fancy Feast so much!".

Thursday, August 25, 2011

the gypsy and the hobo

I'm about as good at interior decorating as I am at tap dancing- really really bad. Our apartment is full of bare walls and Target lamps. It wasn't a big deal in Provo because our apartment was the size of a shoe box. But now we're in a grown-up apartment that has some sort of square foot count and it is painfully obvious how little effort I have put into sprucing up the place.  I hung a few frames (crookedly), and haven't even bothered to rehang the ones that have already fallen down. I do, however, have one knick knack displayed in the living room. The wooden giraffe.

I bought him while in Namibia, along with fifty other items I have since lost. But for some reason the giraffe has been with me through probably ten different apartments and is the lone survivor of the college move every semester life. And now it sits proudly, boasting my world travel record, making me feel like I at least tried a little to add color to our humble abode.
Did I write all this just so I would have an excuse to take a picture of the giraffe? Yes. Yes I did.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


Maybe it will help improve my blog's asthetic? We all know that needs to happen.

Ollie, looking deep into your soul.

Stephen, using an ironing board as a shelf.

Me, pregnant!

This post is worth 3,000 words. You're welcome.

runnin' just as fast as we can

I'm embarrassed about yesterday's post. I was really tired, but I really wanted to blog about baby girl. The result was ugly and didn't make a ton of sense, so I've learned my lesson. But yay! Baby girl! I have never in my entire life enjoyed a visit to the Doctor, but I love my prenatal appointments. When Dr. N told me he was going to do an ultrasound, I actually cheered. There's nothing cooler than getting a peek inside my belly and watching the little one move around. And she moves a lot. It was hard to get a picture because she was so wiggly, so I guess she reacts to caffeine the same way I do (I had a diet coke before the appointment). She did pause long enough for Dr. N to determine that yes, she is a she (woot!), and that she's a week older than what was originally predicted (math has always been hard for me). I'm 18 weeks, not 17, and due January 26. I spent many hours after the appointment looking at little dresses and tights and hair accessories online.

I've been watching a lot of Mad Men. One might say I've been watching too much Mad Men. So it's not a surprise that Jon Hamm made an appearance in my dreams. I was watching him perform in a production of Pride and Prejudice. He played the role of Mr. Darcy, because my dream world is a perfect world. The only problem was that whenever he was supposed to say a line, all he said was "Bzzz". Elizabeth would say something Jane Austeny, and then Hamm would respond with "Bzzz". I remember thinking "That's awesome, you go Don Draper!". Then I woke up and Ollie's snoring sounded just like the Jon's Bzzzing.
There is no moral to this story.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

if it makes you feel alright

I wanted a girl. Is it ok to say that?

Monday, August 22, 2011

clap your hands

Longmont is a quiet, sleepy town. Wait. That's how every murder mystery begins. I take it back. Longmont is a crazy place full of mayhem and ruffians, and by ruffians I mean teenage boys in low-ride pants playing hacky sack outside the Safeway. I'll admit, I get nervous walking past their circle of coolness. What if they hack the sack at my head? What if they yell some rude remark, like "Hey! You look pregnant!"? I just don't trust them. But I have to do my grocery shopping, so passing them can't be avoided. The other day I was in an unusually brave mood, and I dared to look over and see what mischief the group was up to. I was delighted to find that they had taken a break from malarchy, and each hooligan held a piece of chocolate cake in one hand, a spoon in the other, and a smile on their face. I would love to know how that came to be. Whose idea was it to take a dessert break? Was it met with resistance or general excitement? Was marijuana involved in the decision? Regardless, I'm happy to know that even those who scare me have a certain sweetness about them, even if it is just a tooth.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

with pizza on a bagel, you can have pizza anytime

Sometimes I sit down to write a blog, but then an hour later I've consumed half a bag of cheetos and laughed at lots of things on the internet, like this:

and still not written a single word.
Oh well.

Friday, August 19, 2011

I can live with that

Every morning I wake up and think "What the H did I eat yesterday? I am soooooo bloated." And then two seconds later I remember that there's another human in my belly. I kind of thought I'd breeze right through pregnancy, probably because my only point of reference was Father of the Bride Part 2 which goes from "yay! pregnant!" to weeks away from delivery. So far my With Child experience has been way way more Juno than Annie Banks Mackenzie, minus the whole "whoops I'm 16 and Michael Cera is the father" business. But even Juno glosses over waking up at 1 am with a burning throat and sprinting to the bathroom to throw up. Did you know heartburn could do that to you? Me neither. And no movie mentions having to have at least three forms of medication on you at all times in case of nausea, heartburn, or headache. I'm essentially a walking pepto bismal ad. So someday when my production company really takes off, I'm going to make a movie titled Pregnancy: The Real Story. Who would buy a ticket to see such a thing? Hard to say. But the public deserves to know the truth! And I suspect teenage abstinence will rise if it's required viewing in high school health class.

To be fair, there is one scene from Baby Mama that accurately reflects my thoughts.

Toxic western medication please!

Thursday, August 18, 2011

attractive group

It's Stephen's birthday...woot! Listen, I love Stephen. That's why I married him. But the dude has his flaws, and today I'm going really focus on one in particular. Stephen is really terrible at celebrating his own birthday. I don't think he understands what birthdays are all about. They're about telling people weeks, if not months before, things that you've really been wanting lately. Stephen refuses to want anything. It's about planning a day entirely focused on you, from breakfast to bed time. Planning who will shower you with gifts and attention when, and deciding that maybe a second day of partying will be necessary. I've asked Stephen all week, "What do you want to do on Thursday?", and everytime he has replied "What's on Thursday." I don't think he's being coy. I think he really forgot about his birthday. Not only that, but he also forget what birthday this is. He legitimately believed he was turning 24. He's been 24 for the past 364 days. He made no demands for a seven-layer cake. He only wants ice cream. And the worst part? I doubt he's even checked facebook today. If there's any day to hit refresh every five minutes, it's your birthday.
I just don't know what to do with him sometimes.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Dear Magic Bullet

You are not as magical as you think you are.

wild side

Guys, I know it's unbecoming to brag, but I just have to share the excitement. I've welcomed a new piece of technology into my life:

It not only makes and recieves calls, but sends text messages as well. Amazing, right? Now I know what you're thinking: "Meg, that phone is so small! Where do you dial?" Well, behold:

No, your eyes do not deceive you. It flips right open. That's right, I've got myself a flip phone. While it may not have an app for Angry Birds, I'm sure I can throw it at birds when I'm angry. And instead of playing Words With Friends, I hope to exchange actual words with friends, that is if I ever bother to add contacts.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

and your bird can sing

Stephen, off to his first day of becoming a lawyer. Yes, that's a Star Wars lunch pale.

And so begins the Great Experiment. Can I, left to my own devices, at home all day, get anything accomplished? Will the bed ever get made, will my hair ever get done, will the dog ever get fed, and will I ever start the actual work from home work I've been talking about for so long? Or will it be nonstop hulu and snacking? I hate goals. They always disappoint me. But maybe they're necessary? Because I think the only way I'll vaccuum is if I make a goal to vaccuum.

Monday, August 15, 2011

as i hit the kill switch

The best inspiration hits in the shower. (Don't worry, this is a kiddy clean post.)
This morning while rinsing I had the best idea for an ironic T-shirt.
Picture this: An illustration of an iron, and next to it, written in super hip typography, "iron-y." Get it? As in an adjective. Not irony, iron-y, as in sharing the same characteristics as an iron. It's ironic, but then again, it's not. When I explained this to Stephen he gave me a blank stare which is never a good sign, but whatever. I need someone to make this shirt for me so it can sit in my closet and never be worn, since I have a hard time wearing clothing with words on it.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

train of thought

It turns out dogs can have bad haircuts too.

Ollie, Ashamed.

Due to our negligence as pet owners and failure to brush our dog three times a day, the groomer at Paws and Claws had to cut off most of Ollie's beard. Schnauzers are not meant to be beardless. He looks wrong. He's gone from Most Adorable Puppy in the World to That Poor Dog. But he doesn't really even look like a dog. He looks more like Kung Fu Panda's dad, who is an animated duck (or maybe goose?).
Although I laugh everytime Ollie looks at me, because he looks just so ridiculous, this fiasco has actually taught me an important lesson.
I'm worried about having an ugly baby. There. I said it. Most babies are super adorable, but we've all seen babies and thought "that's unfortunate." I'm not asking for 48 blog comments telling me how beautiful I am, and how beautiful my spawn will be, because I don't think it has much to do with the parents. I think ugly just happens sometimes. But having a dog who looks like a mutation experiment gone wrong has helped me learn that I am capable of loving unattractive things. I still love my dog. I think I'll probably love my baby regardless. Right? RIGHT?

I googled "how can I get more people to follow my blog?" and the results suggested blogging about a topic I know a great deal about. Then I asked "how can I get more people to follow my blog if my blog isn't really about anything?" and then Google laughed at me. So apparently the only way I'll ever get super rich off this here plot of internets is if I become the world's greatest blogging expert on something. Anything.  My ideas so far are Modern Polka, How to Dress for Mediocrity, and Ramen done Right. What do you suggest?

Friday, August 12, 2011

the four horsemen

Do you ever dream that you're sitting down to a delicious dinner with friends, then you wake up, and then you feel sad that you never got to eat the meal and then embarrassed that you abandoned all your friends without any explanation, then you realize that because you woke up that gathering no longer exists and then you just feel really guilty? No? Just me? Must be the sleep aid I'm taking.

I watched the season premiere of Bachelor Pad, because someone has to, right? I was just really curious to see what it's all about. It did not disappoint. I mean, it was disappointing in the sense that it reflects the current state of our society and consumerism, etc., but shoot if it wasn't entertaining. The producers somehow wrangled eighteen of the stupidest contestants in Bachelor/Bachelorette history to compete in a contest no one understands. You think I'm judging too harshly? Let me back it up. The following conversation actually aired:

Gia: You don't build the emeny, er, enemy a bomb shelter if you have the chance to blow them up.
Jake: Yeah, but how did the Trojans beat the Greeks?
Gia: They left an elephant on their door.

You don't need to know the context of the conversation. It doesn't help clarify, nor does it correct the numerous factual errors.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

a bit too cool

Dear Ikea,
When I ordered a couch a week ago and you told me it wouldn't arrive until August 29, I was upset. I said some things. Things that I now regret. Because when you called yesterday, and asked if you could deliver our furniture today, I remembered why I fell in love with you in the first place. I can never stay mad at you.

Dear Stephen,
Thank you for playing with legos as a child and learning how to assemble things (couches) really well.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011


There was an unfortunate incident. My super intelligent mobile device and my water bottle were sharing space in my handbag. But I guess the water wasn't down with cohabitation. Or maybe my phone smelled and needed a bath. Regardless, the water attacked the phone, and the phone, after a 3 day fight, has finally given up the ghost. So now I'm using Stephen's old Samsung switch blade phone circa 2007. It's not the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It's probably good to not be connected to EVERYTHING ALWAYS. Plus, I'm back to the hilarious days of T9 wherein takes three times as long to text because "don't" is always "foot" "no" is "on", and "Morley" is "fakdj;kj", or whatever. The real downside is that I lost about a million pictures of Ollie, and a large majority of my contacts. Stephen had a few of them already (mutual friends, obvs), but if you and Stephen are not friends, 1. you should be, and 2. I need your number. But don't post it in the comments, because I don't want those creepy Anonymous commenters who post about male enhancement to track you down. Email me your digits. Unless you've been looking for a way to fall out of contact with me. Problem solved for you.

Monday, August 8, 2011

what's my age again?

23 years ago, on August 8, 1988 (that's 8-8-88) at 8:38 in the morning, my baby brother entered the world.  I used to think that as his older sister, I was his natural boss. That he should listen to me in all matters because I was bigger, older, and wiser. But since then I've had to relinquish my reign as Older Sister Ultimate Ruler because he is now taller, funnier and probably wiser than I. I'm happy to do so, cause I think he can handle the world pretty well on his own.

Happy Birthday, NickMo.

Friday, August 5, 2011

you know how it is

Our neighborhood is puppy heaven. We've been here nearly a week. So far I've seen two children, and about ninety-seven dogs. There is one sign that says "Children at Play" and at least fifteen that say "Dogs must be kept on a leash, and waste must be put in the trash." Shouldn't parents be required to pick up their childrens' poop? Why isn't there a sign specifying that? Anyway, it's refreshing having so many dogs around. We are no longer Those People Who Bought a Dog before Children, like we were in Utah. We're just like everyone else who treats their dog as though it were their child. People like me, who take great pride when someone says "what a cute dog" as if I am in any way responsible for his genetics. People like me who talk to their dog as though it has a college professor's understanding of the English language. People like me who have a desktop full of puppy pictures and blog about their dog at least once a month.

Ollie enjoying a lazy afternoon, catching up on The Bachelorette

Will things change when Baby arrives? Probably. Is Ollie in for a rude awakening? I would assume. But it's something all first children go through. And we'll try our best to avoid a Lady and the Tramp type situation. Until January, Ollie is our only child and first love.

Stephen and Ollie relaxing in our only living room furniture until or couch arrives on AUGUST ?! Thanks a lot, Ikea.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

walk away

Pregnancy has in large part turned me into a toddler. I sleep a lot. I have to eat a lot of snacks. Usually those snacks are cheese, hot dogs, and ramen noodles. Not together, but maybe I should give that a try...I complain a lot. If I don't get a nap, I'm downright fussy. How am I supposed to raise a child, if I myself have beome a child?

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

after all, it was you and me

I know, I know, I know. Nobody likes this header. But in order for me to become a LEGIT Blogher blogger, my header needs to be a certain size. And my technological deficiencies just won't allow for a the proper resizing of the old picture. Sorry. Speaking of having the technological capabilities of a monkey, does anyone know how to upload a video from an ipad to blogger? Anyone? Is there anyone out there? Is anyone one word?

Anyway. We made it to Boulder in one piece and a million boxes. I would detail the journey here, but no one likes moving, let alone reading about moving. I will say that our new apartment is very choice. It includes a dishwasher, a bath I'm not afraid to bathe in, a closet bigger than our previous kitchen, and a FIREPLACE. It does not include twenty stray cats, an odor that is impossible to get rid of, or mysterious stains from previous tenants.

Did I cry when my family drove away this morning? Sure. Am I worried that I won't make any Coloradan friends? You betcha. Am I starting to think that working from home will make me a hermit? Yes. Yes I am. But our apartment has a fireplace that I plan to use in August, so all is right in the world.