america’s street poo

Today was my first day coming into work at 8 a.m. Being that I used to have trouble getting to elementary school on time – I think it’s safe to say that I’m not a morning person.

My sleepy eyes got me through the commute, got me into the parking structure, and drug my lazy feet up the stairs to the street. As I got to the top of the first flight of basement stairs – I saw something recognizable.

But it seemed out of place.

It was feces. Human feces. In a nice little pile.

[EVERYONE SHOULD BE HAPPY I DIDN'T TAKE A PICTURE. BECAUSE I CONTEMPLATED IT.]

And instead of being concerned about where it came from [we are downtown, after all.  And the homeless love pooping in public.] – I am incredibly concerned as to where it will go.

Who picks up the human poo on sidewalks across this great nation? Do they have to wear a hazmat suit?

I am tempted to call our campus maintenance office and inquire.

you want what to do what to your what!?

Today, while on a frantic walk to lower my blood pressure (which failed because I was, in fact, frantic) – I heard a student on campus say with great pride: “that class can lick my left nut.”

I’m an analyzer. It’s a problem. A problem that gives me heart pain and high blood pressure.

So, of course, I attempt to analyze this statement.

A class is not a person or a thing with a tongue – how can it lick your nut?

And why your left one!? WHAT did your left nut do to deserve that?

And WHY would you want something you despise to lick your left nut?

Wouldn’t you want something attractive and rad to suck on your ball?

Now, I’m sitting in my office, still frantic. And thinking about balls.

i spenda the monies

I thought that because I’m finally a card-carrying adult, I would be better with money. And I am good. At spending it, that is.

I started to get nervous with all the news coverage about people going broke and living in boxes. So, with this economic crisis upon us, I decided to look more seriously at recent examples of my over-spending.

Example: Instead of purchasing a jacket at Target the other day, I found a nearly EXACT replica for $100 more at Nordstrom. I liked the way it fit. Back off.

Example: I grocery shop at places like Whole Foods (or as I like to call it – Whole Paycheck), buying organic celery that I never fucking eat, because it sits behind the PBR in my fridge [hey - at least my beer is cheap!].

Example: After being economical and buying a cute new comforter cover at IKEA for a great price, I drug Nathalie to BigBoxTechStore so I could purchase season 3 of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia on DVD … as well as the entire Sarah Silverman Project. Because I ‘deserve’ it.

This term in my graduate program, I am taking a budget & financial planning course. I started to look at the book in the hopes that it would inspire me – but it had lots 0f numbers and graphs and letters. No pictures.

I put it down.

I thought the internet would help me — but when I was searching for single girls & budgeting – all I found were sites for single mothers and planning ‘omg, the best bachelorette party evarrrr you guys!’

So, I looked for single dudes & budgets — and I found some good stuff! Like ‘The Bachelor Guy‘ – whose site includes ads with half naked chicks. Score!

But I think it’s crap that you can’t find sites like this for ladies like myself – with big pockets and their own lives.

So, once I get the hang of this saving & frugal thing – I’m starting my own site.

Because, dammit!, a girl needs to know how to save up for her right hand ring

old job – why must you haunt me?!

Today, while attempting to purchase a delicious Subway sandwich, I was struck with the realization that I can never get away from ‘old job‘ and the people that despise me.

As if being in the same city isn’t bad enough, old job was on the same stupid campus I’m on every day of my god forsaken life. I try to stay away from places that their office frequents (I miss you Seattle’s Best & Pizzicato), so as to avoid awkward run-ins.

But today, standing in the Subway line, there he was — an ex-coworker buying a ham and cheese sandwich on white bread[boring asshole]. I started to panic and then told myself, “Meg, it’s okay, he won’t see you.”

I turned behind me to hide my face, and there she was — an ex-coworker who I used to be friends with. Even more awkward. I was trapped. My delicious roasted chicken on wheat was just within my grasp.

I contemplated running.

But, I held my ground.

I don’t think asshole guy recognized me because my hair has changed. But I know she did. I know she did because she looked at me with an awkward smile that looked like she wanted to say hi. But instead, she looked away.

And the intense guilt I’ve had about the entire old job situation came back. And I got sad. But I kicked my own ass – because I needed it.

So I walked back to this office full of people who love me. I am eating said delicious sandwich and listening to my co-worker regale us with the story of her crappy date last night.

And I realize that I will run into people from old job. And that is okay. Because I’m the shit humble and successful without that on my resume.

Also, I get paid more here. A lot more. So, I got that goin’ for me.

And finally – please go read my BFF Intern Nathalie’s new blog here. It is witty and offensive – just like her

staying positive

I have what some call “bronchitis” — I call it “birth control”

I was supposed to have a date tonight. Instead, I will be at Intern Nathalie’s house doing laundry.

Why, you ask? Because I sound like Bea Arthur after smoking a pack of cigarettes.

Also, because of said illness, my eyes are bloodshot. My nose is plugged up. I can’t hear. And my face/neck is swollen [don't worry - it's not meningitis - I checked].

Who wants to make out with this?

Answer: Nobody I want to make out with.

Also, thanks to the new smoking ban in PDX, I haven’t been able to secretly smoke in dingy bars and on side streets where nobody I know will see me.

Instead, I have been huddling outside my apartment, and behind my office building, smoking American Spirits and crying because the cold air + bronchitis make a deadly combination in my chest cavity.

Obviously, I have been smoking less. Which saves money. But then I spend that money on booze. So, it’s more like redistribution of funds.

So, I suppose it’s good that I am deathly ill. It gives my mouth a break, and I don’t have to put my make-up and push-up bra on every day in the hopes of attracting my future ex-husband.

But don’t you worry, kids — once this sickness gets kicked – I’m back on the prowl. And by prowl – I mean, I’ll be bangin’ and smokin’ again. Duh.

Haha … I kid, I kid.

No smokin’.