Exes and Miss America

Today was quite possibly one of the weirdest days ever. My day started by me getting grilled in my land use class. It sucked, but fortunately I had done all of the reading. Then I get an email from my mom about a woman who sits behind her and my dad every Sunday in church. Yesterday they were talking to her about me and how I am in law school etc. She is a partner at a pretty big firm in the area, and tells my parents to have me get in touch with her about a summer job. My mom sends me the contact info, and I actually have an interview with the firm this Friday. I go to send her an email and figure it would be a good idea to tell her the name of the person interviewing me, so I sign into my law school account, and lo and behold, this woman is actually the one interviewing me. Good luck for me? Too good to be true...

Later in the day, I went to my mom's office to pick some stuff up and quickly see a doctor about my tonsils, where it was decided that they are indeed infected again and I have to start taking medicine once again. At least I'll be getting them out eventually; these ones are seriously defective... did the good luck really wear off so fast? On my way out of the hospital, I am chatting it up with this middle-aged woman who loves me and works at the front desk, and who walks up but Miss America. I swear. She even let the receptionist try her crown on and I took a picture of the two of them. She was nice and pretty, but skinny as hell. I wanted to buy her a Big Mac - there's even a McDonald's right in the hospital. (What cheers sick kids up better than a Happy Meal anyway?...well other than a visit from Miss America).

So after my little Miss America run-in, I get a phone call from my ex-boyfriend. For those of you who don't know about this comical situation, the last time we spoke was months ago, and it was anything but amicable. He called me a bitch who dressed like a snob; I laughed at his insecure new girlfriend (dubbed Fatty McSweatpants, and yes I know that is mean), told him dumping him was the best decision I ever made, and to have a nice life. Obviously, I was shocked to see he was calling. For some reason, I got this bad feeling like something was really wrong and actually answered the call. He said "Hi Meg, I know we haven't talked in a while, but I was just wondering if I could have my water filter back". We used to hike together often, and I do still have his water filter along with some other hiking equipment which he did not ask for back. I answered him mostly with one word responses, telling him I don't live at home but I could get it to him eventually and then hung up. I can't believe he called me to ask for a $50 water filter back. Quite possibly the most pathetic excuse to talk to someone ever, unless you value clean water above your dignity. If he was hoping for a real conversation, he was looking in the wrong place - snobby bitches don't do ex-boyfriends. The good ole you-have-my-water-filter trick? He honestly thought I would fall for that? What's next? The Trojan horse? I bet Miss America would fall for it though; too bad she's way too pretty for Mr. Water Filter

Irresponsible Is So Hot Right Now

Yesterday my roommate, some friends and I decided happy hour would be a good way to celebrate finishing the first two days of the school year and the fact that the morning after pill is now available over the counter (joking). Usually whenever drinking commences at 5, I'm in for a sloppy night. However, other than being unduly rude to one of my friends, from what I remember I was relatively under control - key phrase "from what I remember". I wake up to my roommate handing me her cell phone at 7am with my mom on the other end of it. Apparently I left my cell phone and my roommate left her wallet in the back of the cab. The cab driver was being nice in trying to find the owner and called "home" in my cell phone, waking my parents up in the middle of the night. The cab driver proceeded to tell my mom that we were really drunk. So my mom starts the day thinking her daughter is a lush, then goes to work where she finds out that I missed a meeting earlier in the week with HR for my part time job there and I overdrew from my bank account and am in need of cash immediately... clearly I am extremely responsible as well as a model daughter. The cabbie eventually drove to our building and dropped our stuff off leaving me with the parting words, "You are a beautiful girl. You shouldn't drink so much. You did not look nearly as beautiful last night." Good to know I am not such an attractive drunk - certainly one reason to take it easy on the booze. Tomorrow my mom is taking me to buy a new suit and some things I still need for my apartment (which she has to pay for because I have no money), so I am prepared to be lectured about balancing check books and the dangers of binge drinking allllll day. Sweet.

China

I’m talking about the plates, not the place. I hate it. (I have not yet been to the place, but I am thinking I wouldn't like it very much either). Seriously if I am ever First Lady I am going to pick Fiestaware as my “china” for the White House. What is the point of eating off of such expensive plates? My mom uses them maybe twice a year, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the rest of the time a few of them are on display in the china closet and the rest are stacked away in these expensive little containers designed specifically for people like my mom who never use their damn china. When, well I guess I should say if, I get married, someone please slap me if I start talking about this china mumbo-jumbo. Just give me the $175 a place setting; I can borrow my mom’s china if the Queen ever comes to visit, otherwise the 50 cent Ikea shit’ll do just fine for me.

Things I Learned on Vacation:

1. South Jersey has a whole lot more white trash in the summertime.
2. I hate camoflauge/pink/any-color-other-than-Phillies'-colors Phillies hats
3. Sometimes you gotta just smile and take it - like when my sister-in-law bought my dog and hers best friend charms for their collars. (I've been getting good at this one since the bridesmaid's dresses)
4. I am perversely obsessed with watching those evangelists on TV - it's like a trainwreck. And honestly, how fascinating that with one touch someone can be cured of cancer of the breasts, lungs, and spine...
5. I am better at drawing with my eyes closed than with them open. (learned via a mean game of Cranium)
6. Certain medicines make you more sensitive to the sun, like say the one I am taking. I feel like everyone else in the world already knew this one...
7. Ocean kayaking is a lot harder than it looks, and I have the bruises to prove it.
8. I really should stop hooking up with Dave's friends.
9. When gambling, quit while you're ahead.. or at least stop drinking.
10. I despise squirrels. Despise.

Tattoo Taboo

Most of you probably know that I have a tattoo on my ribcage. My parents, however, are not privy to this information. In fact, you all would have gotten the chance to experience an Irish wake if my parents knew about my tattoo. So here's the dilemma, tomorrow I am going down the shore with my family for the week and only own two-piece bathing suits. I have been pretty sick of recent, and haven't had much time to shop. This afternoon I remembered the seriousness of the situation, and just went out bathing suit shopping. Well, for future reference, NEVER wait until mid-August to go bathing suit shopping. The choices blow, especially when you are already as limited as I am (i.e. must cover my ribcage and still not look like a grandma bathing suit). I joked that I was going to buy a one-piece with the U shaped back and a skirt, but have decided that 23 is about 20 years too soon for such a fashion statement. I did end up buying a bathing suit, it is a two-piece, with the top a little longer than a normal one, it covers the tattoo by mere millimeters, and it is hideous. Seriously, it is the ugliest bathing suit I have ever bought, but my options were severely restricted, and I am leaving tomorrow! So if I do see any of you down the shore, please try and refrain from making fun of my ugly ass bathing suit. Hopefully, I'll have time to get another one when I am down there, and hopefully my parents won't be wondering why I suddenly got so modest in my choice of swimwear...

Gym Teachers

Congrats to my younger brother for getting his first real job today, well if you count being a gym teacher (yes, I am fully aware that "physical education teacher" is the preferred nomenclature amongst these professionals) as a "real job". My other brothers and I chipped in to get him something special. I wanted to get him a track suit with his initials embroidered on it, but we opted for the silver plated whistle with his initials engraved on it. The whistle came in a fancy little box with a protective cover for when he's not using it - straight up gangsta. School starts in a couple weeks, so before then he needs to buy a pair of those hot coaching shorts, start referring to run of the mill gym equipment in the grandiose "apparatus", review the rules of crab soccer and pickleball, and think up some inappropriate comments to make the high school girls uncomfortable. So little brother, best of luck and godspeed. Don't worry, I'll take the Maryland bar exam just in case you run into any "problems" down there requiring legal assistance.

Peanuts

Remember the voices of the grown-ups in the Peanuts movies? That is exactly what I have sounded like for the past couple days. My two deaf cousins make more audible sentences than I do. The good news is 1. I am not allergic to bars, and 2. the pain medicine is awesome. The bad news is I probably have to get my tonsils taken out. My ENT is a family friend and a great doctor, but he works out of a hospital in ghetto North Philly. The waiting room is worse than the DMV - all kinds of characters. Today entailed a woman who felt the need to spit every couple of minutes right on to the floor, a middle-aged crack addict who didn't seem so happy to be there, a really really overweight woman with no teeth, some dude with a huge tumor on his neck who couldn't answer a single one of the (not-very-pleasant) receptionist's questions, and then me with my retarded voice. Overall, not such a great trip to the hospital. At one point I had at least 3 different people's fingers in my mouth at the same time. I am glad my tonsils are such a spectacle, guess there aren't too many cadavors with tonsillitis for these guys to check out (slightly reassuring). I am back on the roids and antibiotics in addition to the narcotics, but this time I'm definitely not going to booze too - I'll stick with Jello and chicken broth for now.

Allergic to Bars

So my throat hurts and my tonsils are swollen AGAIN. My mom has been trying to convince me all day that I'm allergic to bars. While I'm most assuredly allergic to bad pick up lines (e.g. "what were you studying earlier?" likely because I was wearing glasses, "are we getting naked tonight?", "you feel nice" accompanied by an ass grab), I am not allergic to bars. I love them too much. I love watching guys hit on girls way out of their league (and no, I don't mean eMolloy and Little Google). I love casually flirting with bartenders to get free drinks/faster service. I love watching unattractive drunk girls try and look sexy by dancing with each other. I love taking jagerbombs. I love getting to be a smart ass and have other people find it charming (only seems to work in bars/with drunk people). But most of all, I just love drinking and hanging out with my friends in bars, so it would be a cruel cruel world if I really were allergic to them. I'm going to the doctor Monday -keep your fingers crossed for me.

Meathead

A couple of weeks ago I hung out with a guy I thought I might be interested in. Here are 10 of the reasons I'll never hang out with him again:

1) He chewed gum really loudly (annoying)
2) He goes tanning (meathead)
3) I bought him a drink and he didn't buy me one (cheap)
4) He didn't have anything funny to say (boring)
5) He barely talked to my friends (rude)
6) He's a pirates fan (didn't know they had any)
7) He likes hockey better than basketball (only ok in canada)
8) He wears a class ring (douchebag)
9) He only had mardi gras beads on his walls (creepy)
10) He is a girl about clothes (again, meathead)

Salvation

My soul is in need of salvation these days. I don't do a whole lot wrong per se; I just don't do a whole lot right. I used to go to church every Sunday. I'm Catholic but don't agree with a lot of the church's views. Regardless, there is something comforting to me about the ancientness of the mass, imagining my great-great grandmother performing the same rituals. This past Palm Sunday, which by the way is the longest mass of the year because the entire Passion of the Christ is recited at mass (the story detailing Jesus' last days), I go to mass alone hungover as hell. The church is packed. I sit between a really old dude and a young family, and I reeked of booze. Every time we stood up I felt like I was going to pass out. Then the Passion starts. No joke, we get to the part where the crowd shouts “Crucify him!” and I have to get up and run out of church to go puke up the jager shots I took the night before. I did grab a palm on the way out to prove to my parents I really went to church, but it doesn't matter - I'm going to hell.