Blogaversaary--- Holiday Edition Part 1

This and the next Blogaversary! will focus of the Holidays. But other than that, I believe you know the drill by now. Enjoy. Or Not. Whatever.

1. More than anything growing up, but especially during the holidays, I wanted to live on the east coast. It represented everything about the holidays that I wanted to be apart of… the Macy’s parade, the giant Christmas tree. I think Home Alone 2 heavily influenced me in this desire, but it still stands.
2. I love holiday music my two favorites are “Christmas Eve Sarajevo,” by the Transberian Orchestra and “All I want for Christmas” by Mariah (Pre-Black.) By the way at our house the latter is blared and there is a dance routine!
3. I have only had a boyfriend during Christmas once in my life. The guys I dated off and on, we were always off during the holidays…(which may or may not have been their plan!) Someday, I plan on doing all the romantic stuff you see in movies during the holidays though. It will probably be an unmittigated diaster, nonetheless, it will happen.
4. I already have a semi-list of traditions I want to do with my family when I have one. But the one that my mom and I always do is buy toys and clothes for children on the Christmas Angel List you find in the mall. This has been going on for as long as I can remember, mostly because I think when I was little my mom wanted me to always remember that I wasn’t on that tree. And then when I was older because it is really fun. I recommend you all do it.
5. I despise Eggnog. For real, how is raw egg and rum a good drink, however, ever freaking year, I attempt to try it in order to really get the holiday spirit. My friend always attempts to get me to try a new type of eggnog. And every year like clockwork: I grab my small mug. Take a sip. And realize it was a bad bad plan. Nevertheless, she tarries on, determined to find some sort of eggnog I will drink. This year, my roomie is shoveling the Puerto Rican Eggnog. Uh, whilst, the Puerto Ricans have done many things right, my roomie, Jennifer Lopez, etc, eggnog will NEVER be their strong suite.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING ALL.

Casa de Meh!

We here at Meh (we in this case being the royal we, with occassional help from the roomie) enjoy a great many things. Like cupcakes... yummy gooey frosting, a miniture peice of happiness you need not slice, nor dirty any silverware over. And The Simpsons. And earings. And stilleto heels. And fantastic hair. And the game I wish. And Party Panties. And really really great kisses. And Tom Brady. In fact, we here at Casa de Meh, are certain that Brady and really great kisses belong together!

We also despise a great many things, for example VPL,really drunk girls, Kevin Federline, Mariah Carey-Post Black, Whitney Houston-Post Crack, department stores and of course, most tv shows on CBS.

But now, NOW, we have a new thing to embrace for the sake of procrastination and deep rooted discussion. The List.

Yes, this week has been a time of High Fidelitying up with Top 5 or Top 10 EVERYTHING.

Thus far... We have ranked top 5 kisses. Top 10 Worst Songs Ever. And we are gearing up to work with JM on making a list of the Top 10 Best Songs EVER. I may give out these lists for a later date. With the names of all the top 5 kiss partners changed. This list thing has revolutionized my work schedule... and provided deep thought IM's like...

"If we put the Macarena on there, we are obligated to put that Tootsie roll Song" and
"I disagree that Celine Dion should be shot for that Titanic mess... blame Dicaprio"
and of course
"I want it that way... which way are they talking about"

It's so simple, it's freaking complex. Further thoughts on life by me.

The big secret is finally out, boys... and you have one of your own to blame, my friend J let it slip out via a long email. In this email he informed me thatI am high maintenance and .....DRUMROLL PLEASE.... the more a girl flat out ignores a boy, the more he wants her. See. That is the exact opposite of how rational women react... the more we like you the more we actually pay attention to you. This clearly creates an unbalence in the universe of dating.

I was glad I recieved this revelation. Now I know what to do with the next boy I like... ignore the heck out of him.

For years now, I have heard nothing from every guy I know but, "whaaaaaaaaaa... I don't want a chick who is into games, and drama" This revelation today gave me my Baby Oprah AHA moment... yes you do.... you totally do. This is like the chick who states "I hate drama, I am so not into drama." Boys, as soon as any girl states this in a random conversation with you... you can rest assured, she probably is the drama that she hates so much. Drama queens hate drama because it takes away from their star times. Men who say "I hate games," are totally the guys who play them... they only hate them because if they notice games being played, the other player is probably better at it than they are.

In other news, I have been dubbed High Maintenance, by some of my college friends re:my college guy friends. How is it that years have passed by and I never knew this about me. Now before anyone gets the wrong impression, I am not HM in that, buy me, buy me kind of way... nor am I high maintenance in the you can't have any other friends but me way... so I guess I am HM in that I require some sort of time... time calling, time spending etc. Now, they still love me, but apparently I am totally not that girlfriend that you don't call for weeks on end and then finally do call and everything is super yay cool. To which my response is "Yes, fine... hello I AM A CHICK"

For Real, I don't give a Crap.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to say all this to the actual person. But in the spirit of changing the world one crazed person at a time.

I present, an open letter to the random dude who asked me out today:

First, spare me your bromidic, juvenille musings on the following: how you know directors, producers and other famous people, how you could totally get me a job in movies, and how you're working for xyz company now, but really you have connections and could be a president, partner, ruler of the world, if you just made a few phone calls. Honestly, I could give a crap about who you know, who you think you know or who you wish you knew when you dreamed up whatever B.S you thought would get me to find you attractive and consent to a date. Yes, I am that bitchy.

Second, throwing a resume at me, doesn't make me want to date you either. I don't care you where you went to school, or what your GPA was when you were there, I do care that you have shown up in my office theoretically, to discuss your "doctoral thesis" and instead spent quality time (that would be my quality time) telling me all about how you have so many "ladies" after you and how you're so "pressed" by all the many many people that want you to run their companies for them. I don't find the use of slang during a business meeting to be attractive; you know what I do find atractive, men who use the English language well.

Lastly, I'm not sure you know this about me, but let me take a moment to clarify things. When you keep "accidentally" running into me , I am more likely to want to punch you, and less likely to want to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with you. Also, you trying to bond with me over how "brothers and sisters" like us can't get ahead, is inane at best and racist at worst. My friends, ahem... that would be all the people I would rather be talking to you than you, and my co-workers are lovely people, who have been nothing but supportive of me and my career. Me answering a phone at my office does not equal a violation of civil rights and it certianly doesn't make Martin Luther King Jr. roll over in his grave,people accusing other people of racism for no reason, probably does. You are not my brother, I am not your sister, and if I was I probably would spend a great deal of time explaining how you should, ENUNCIATE.

Thanks for taking up 2 hours of my day random man, allowing me the great pleasure of having to stay at work to finish the projects I could have been doing had you not wasted my time.

Best,
Me

Beware of the Ghosts of Dating Past

Nothing like seeing at least 3 ex-boyfriends in one location to make you wanna either cry, scream or runaway in terror.

Okay for starters, I am not one of those girls who is super-best friends with any of my ex’s with the exception of one, who the blog knows as The Ex (And You are my favorite of all, Love), but that is the exception not really the rule for me. When I break up, I break the heck up… none of this get back together break up crap.

Now that I am 26, uh…yuck 26! I have learned there are fundamental truths about me that probably drove my ex-boyfriends nuts. One of which is, I am a big time person, which means I probably invite you to too many things and will call anyone I want whenever I have something to say….totally against all sorts of dating/being friends with boys rules, For me, I know you like me based on how much time you are willing to spend with me. Now in my youth, it had to be face time, now that I am older, I realize the talk time, IM, and email time a guy spends with you should also be counted as love… because for the most part, they could take or leave talking any which way but in person. I know Jase and J, and The Ex love me because even if they are busy, they usually respond to email and IM’s…. thanks guys! You know you are close friends when you are being annoying and still know with absolute certainty that your friends aren’t going to hold it against you the next day.

But back in my youth, I needed a ton of face time, which I guess was part of the insanity of dating me… that is why re-seeing an ex-boyfriend is always nerve racking, you pretty much know that they are wondering how you’ve changed in the last few years…and your just hoping they don’t remember all the times you were slightly insane (personal favorite, at age 20, I totally didn’t understand why my boyfriend wanted to hang out with his guy friends… I thought if he loved me he should want to spend ALL his time with me… bwaaaaaahahaha, no wonder he got frustrated, since we have mutual friends, it is possible you could read this… I am sorry for the craaaaaazy) and instead remember how you always made their favorite meal really really well.

The cardinal rule of re-seeing your ex-boyfriends for me is to always make sure you look, freaking AMAZING and are breezy and AWESOME. Never pick a fight, never be anything other than the cool chick your friends clearly recognize, and most definitely no discussion of why’d we break up. When you are about to meet up with 5 ex’s 2 of whom broke your heart and the other 2 whose heart you smashed, and one mutual break-up these things have to be taken to heart. But seeing all those boys who have in some ways shaped who I am, it is not easy. Especially since I often feel as though I should apologize for I dunno, me age 18 – 22, (see above apology). Really the only good that has ever come from those years is the fact I am much better at identifying crazzzzzzy for my friends. I wonder if boys have the same issue when they run into their ex’s. Anyways, I survived running into all those ex-boyfriends; one of them said, I have gotten much cooler now that I have calmed the hell down (HA, I have always been into boys who call it like they see it) Yep, you guys are pretty cool too. I am glad I dated you, Mr. I hate commitment, Mr. Bad kisser, and Mr. Boring, you guys made me a better person…and in case you found my blog, good luck figuring out which one you were.

Coming Up... the recap of the world's worst game and my time with La Raza

The Long Ride Home

Yesterday JM got a new car. Well a new, not new car, that his friend is having him car-sit for 3 weeks. It is some sort of Porche...I say some sort, because there are many types, but his one is newer and makes growwwwwwwwly noises when it accelerates. As we were driving along in it, down the freeway, with me squeeling and clapping with delight. I discovered something about me:

Sports car going fast = SEXYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

Now this deviates from my previous position of "what the heck are you compensating for, stupid face" reaction to sports cars. I really didn't get the appeal of a tiny tiny car that goes fast. I was always more a sports utility, "hey I'm outdoorsy, sporty, don't mind dirt, can build you something some day I will be a family man" kind of girl. Probably because 90 percent of the men who own sports cars look like absolute underexercised, balding chumps.

But this time, I got to experience the magic, and I did have to let go of a few (not all ) sterotypes, mostly because I love my friend JM and do not think of him as a chump. For example, the reason why the people in sports cars drive the way they do, is because the car requires that ammount of action. To ill-use the sports car is to date a VS model and only see her in sweats (thanks for the comparison J, I am not sure if it is apt, but whatever)

Anyways, JM took me on a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng drive. It was actually quite relaxing; leaving the incessant buzz of the city behind, going somewhere where you can see stars.

I ruthlessly stole this post from my friend lisa.

Wanna see something revealing about me... check out my personality test pig. Morgan, especially you, then go do one yourself.

http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/gallery/large.asp?id=1270175&p=0&hof=1&q=personality+test

Then do it yourself:
http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/index.asp

The Wait is Ovah, Halloween, The Recap, Part Duex

Otherwise known as the one where, I get a hero. So off we wander to the streets of Freaksville. First thing noticeable, is that I am really as naive as Jase says I am, because I had no idea there were that many people waiting to go crazy, just because it was Halloween, I also look like a kindergartener on the street compared to some of the people on the street last night. I really was the most clothed woman on the street. At the point where people were pushing past me and screaming, I kind of started getting worried and scared. I don’t like random people touching or grabbing at me. Thankfully, cue Pre-Black Mariah, I had a hero…. Ben, whenever you read this, thanks for keeping me safe from the masses, you are my favorite fake fighter (I mean Naval??) pilot ever, in all seriousness, you can even keep the position if Brady wears the suit… although admittedly you might have to remind me of this statement should the latter ever occur.

Oh, you say, what kind of danger could you have possibly been in, other than the absolute criminal assault on your ears that was the Kevin Federline concert (more on that later)

Well first off the swarming masses of people cut everyone off, so if you are by yourself ever in a group of 500,000 you get jostled, and shoved out of the way…. But it is worse when the spectacle of people get right in your face and scream “HONEY…HI” add into the fact that there were wobbly drunk drag queens out, with dangerously spiked stilettos, and I am lucky I didn’t wander off to cry in a corner. Surprisingly, I actually had a guy hit on me… one in 500,000; I hope it’s not me. The two best parts of the night though is when a group of men stopped in front of a line of hungry people and stared at Ben, pointing and saying, “he is so hot… so freaking hot,” All while Ben was completely focused on which Tamale he wanted. I think one of them was starting to move forward when I grabbed his hand to intervene and shook my head to indicate he is into girls…. And the group of men CONGRATULATED ME…hee, like I did something really great. I think they wanted to carry him off and name him King of the Party. The other best part of the night is when a large group of Asian women, grabbed the roomie and yelled “hello kitty, I LOVE hello Kitty” and then proceeded to dragout a complete Hello Kitty collection of items, as if she had been waiting all her life just to see Hello Kitty on the street so she could proclaim her fandom. I wonder where the pictures of the roomie are going to show up. Ever think of that, how many people just have pictures of you standing in the background of their picture… there could be hundreds of photos of you all over the world. Actually when you think of that, it is creepy as hell.

Other things of hell, Kevin Federline, RAPPING… ON AN ACTUAL STAGE comes to mind. Look, I know he must be feeling pretty smug as the man who absolutely ruined Britney (you just know somewhere out there, Baby Mama number 1 and Justin Timberlake are sitting together saying “damn dodged a bullet there”) but why he must use his tentative grip on fame to ruin the rap genre makes no sense. He doesn’t seem to comprehend that people LOATHE him…. He comes on stage in a cape, I have no idea what he was supposed to be, the count of bad rap, but as SOON as he appeared. EVERYONE started booing. You know how hard it is to find a judgmental drag queen? Yeah, if you can’t win someone who sports clear plastic 6-inch heels, (clearly not a person of taste on a side note, if you are going to be a drag queen, they do make Jimmy Choo’s in specialty sizes, no need for stripper shoes to join your repertoire) then you can’t you win anyone over.

After all that, we decided to head for home… I think we were thoroughly over stimulated. On the way back, I saw 7 supermans, several slutty fireman (real firemen, those guys pull girls just by standing around), and several rainbow brights… slutty ones of course.

Happy Hallo- I mean—Sluttoween

Call me La Principessa Capitan

Today was family day. And so off I went with my California family for a day at the lake... We drove out 2 hours to a lake nearer to Bakersfield than Los Angeles, but whatever. It was a great day. We got some starbucks, (yum pumpkin spice latte) and drove for hours... and then just hung out.

I went on the Jet Ski and it turns out those things are ADDICTIVE... at first you are going all slow and cautious, trying not to i dunno, flip the dang jet ski ( yes, I know is hard as hell to flip a jet ski, but it feels wobbily) then you are going close to 50 miles per hour, nearly blind (I forgot sunglasses) and positively giddy with excitement. The best part is you are yelling the whole time, and no one hears anything. You can confess your darkest secrets on a jetski and poof they are off in the wind. Then Nick took me in these really scary scary spins and I thought I was going to fly off the jet ski in my jeans and I didn't. I am AWESOME. I am convinced that I need a jetski, it will be my hobby and I can share it with others... now I just need roughly 10,000 dollars to get one. It will be TOTALLY worth it... jet skies are like motorcycles only you know, when you fall off you don't crush all of your inside into mush or become a walking donate your organs ad.

Then we took the speed boat out for wakeboarding. I wish I could wake board. It looks freaking awesome especially when you are doing tricks and stuff. If I was going to take up wake boarding, I would need to develop some sort of coordination, because I am so not even close to being cool and coordinated, I would probably just get dragged behind the boat until someone noticed I was missing. On the way back in I got to drive the speed boat... those things go fast. I might also need a boat. I went super fast and created good waves behind the boat and then I got into a race with some random dudes taking there boat out for a spin... I now know why guys try and beat other guys off the line and what NASCAR is all about, because something about them trying to catch my boat, made me floor it, even though there were Boat Patrol on the lake. I didn't crash, which means I am practically 2 steps from being a Captian... hence the name of this Blog.

All in all a fantabulous day.

Alright, I would give you more details about my speed filled day, but I am going to see Borat.

Stand Alone Unfunny Post.

Writing is my therapy, this type of writing is not typically blog worthy consequently, I will probably never publish another post like this one on the blog again, however, I promised I would for this particular day.

A years worth of Breathing
Letting go of you wrecking me
All you ever were, was a cheap plastic fantasy.
And I'm still Breathing. I know that hurts you more than anything.
I'm betting you think you know me.
Well, I hope tomorrow brings the consequence you never had.
It'll help cleanse yourself of all the lies that run through your head:
You are never gonna be a good man.
A years worth of breathing.
I survived you and me.

The one where Hello Kitty Stops Traffic, and a Fighter Pilot Saves Me

Not Necessarily at the same time. Halloween The Recap Part 1

So... I went out for Halloween this year. I know what you're thinking Morgan, I never go out for Halloween, but never fear my streak of not dressing up continues on... I only ever want to be a fairy princess and I don't think fairy princesses should be slutty, so I am at a distinct Halloween disadvantage, since in about 5 years Halloween will be renamed Slutoween, judging by how the girls went out this year. Sidenote, if your boobs aren't fabulous... you have no business showing them. That is what the miracle of Victoria's Secret is, they give girls whose breasts are substandard, a real nice piece to showcase them in... and image is everything, ladies, everything.

Anyways. So I went to West Hollywood. Where the freaks all come out to play. It was like a bonanza of oddities. Which I could spend time writing about, but Meh... who cares about freaks... when the real drama was ALL in getting to the damned event.

So I get home from a 10-hour workday (in heels) and change into jeans and a t-shirt... and wait for my roommates boyfriend (YAY, they got back together after the Drunk Dial of the weekend before) and Wilson on our way to pick up Benn in Hollywood.
Yeah, none of my friends have any concept of time or something because 6:45 p.m. quickly became 7:15 p.m. by which time my roommate had tried on no less than 3 outfits... So we go to get Benn, and everything is fine. The roomies boyfriend had a joyous reunion with Benn, we think they like each other more than they like hanging out with us, and they ran around like kids looking at all the cool stuff in Benn's office. Boys.

Okay so off we go towards West Hollywood. Wilson behind the wheel. And I love Wilson, but if there is ever EVER to be driving in traffic again... I nominate the roomie to drive. Because the anxietyfest was just a little much to handle. First we were doing psychotic loopy-loops in the middle of roads. The non-christians in the car started praying, and the christians started cursing. It was all very backwards. Everytime we said left, Wilson went right. All leading us up to Hello Kitty's big moment. So we are sitting there, begging Wilson to turn, FOR THE LOVE, TURN!! on to a side street so we could I dunno, not be a dead standstill. And he utterly refused. It was likeing watching the short kid on the top of the high diving board... stuck. We are all begging him... well they are all begging him, I am about to kick him out of the car. When the roomie, climbs over her boyfriend, and goes out the door to stop traffic. (I followed her out of the car, mostly becuase it was hilarious and secondly, to call 911 if someone decided to run her over) The best part was some southern lady yelling... "I like that hello kitty, you go kitty"

GOLD LADIES AND GENTLEMAN GOLD

So we run through the streets to get back to Wilsons car...and we are on this narrow narrow road...yay you think right, easy sailing from there. NO.

Wilson decides to lose his dang mind... and is all "you want aggressive josh!! and starts speeding towards my immeinent death) litterally, we are inches away from parked cars, oh and, CARS COMING TOWARDS US.

Internal Monologue time, imminent death coming, Shanelle's brain:
"dude, if he f*&King kills us, I am going to be pissed, where was all this aggression, WHEN WE CLEARLY HAD THE RIGHT OF WAY TO TURN... crap, crap... I am going to die."

External Dialog: Josh, CALM DOWN... CALM DOWN, it's okay. For FLUCKS SAKE calm down

Finally, 45 minutes later we find parking and begin the long trek to freaksville.

STAY TUNED... Part 2 recaps are coming.