may contain trace quantities of nuts

Channeling my mother 7/17/2007

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Eddie Izzard on the C of E 1/24/2007

This one is just for Melinda, for whom I promised to find it.

But the rest of you should watch it too.

a public service bulletin 11/20/2006

People, I think we all understand, are pretty stupid. However, there appears to be something about the presence of a visibly pregnant woman that renders them even more impeded. This past weekend, I attended a party that truly illustrated how stupid people can be. I won’t be going to any more parties until after this kid is born. But, since I’m really a giver by nature, I thought I’d write up a little guide of Things Not to Say to a Pregnant Woman. I’m not saying anyone here is stupid. But, you know. Just in case.

Greetings
Do not spy me and yell from across the room to me “HEY FAT LADY!” as you come to greet me. I will probably not have a nice reaction. If you find yourself about to do this, stop for a second and think. Ask yourself the following question: “In my limited experience, has there ever been a time in my life when I would have embraced being called ‘fat lady’/'Fat Man’? No? Then the object of your greeting probably feels similarly. If you greet someone like this, be prepared for them to snarl the greeting back at you. Or some variant like “Baldy,” “Stinky,” or “Old Snaggletooth.”

Similarly, do not screech “OHMYGODYOU’REHUGE” at me. Seriously, it’s not news to me. I’m aware of how big I am. I’m aware of it when I take a shower, I’m aware of it when I try to roll over in the middle of the night, I’m aware of it when i have to ask my husband to help me trim a toenail and I’m aware of it when it takes me three tries to work up the momentum to get up off the sofa. I’m not likely to say “Really?? Holy shit I just thought I was drying my clothes on a waaaay too high heat setting!”

Introductions
When someone introduces me to you, don’t say first thing “Ohhhh, you’re the pregnant lady.” It should be obvious why this is bad practice, but just in case it’s not, I’ll clarify: It is generally rude to identify people by their medical conditions. It would probably be tacky to declare “Oh hey, you’re the guy with the benign tumor!” or “Oh hey, there Mr. Psoriasis!” Seriously, as I mentioned above, it totally has not escaped my notice that I’m knocked up, and you’re really not accomplishing a whole hell of a lot in reminding me.

Proxemics Violations
Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t reach out and start feeling all over my stomach. It’s still my stomach. If you want to paw me you should really have my permission, don’t you think? Unless we’ve established prior to my pregnancy that such an interaction would be tolerated, you really ought to keep your mitts off my person.

Socially, it’s about as fun to have someone grabbing my belly to try to “feel the baby” (which, shouldn’t you have my permission to go feeling my kid, while I’m thinking about it?) as it is to have the hosts’ dog coming at your crotch with the big, wet nose, and honestly should probably be dealt with the same way. From now on, when I see the hand approaching, I’m going to slap it and yell “OFF!” Hopefully that will do the trick.

Conversation
While I’m sure your sister/wife/mother/friend/buddy’s girlfriend really truly was in labor for ninety-five hours, I’m probably not going to have the same experience. Don’t you worry, though, I have thought very thorougly about giving birth and I’m sufficiently alarmed by the prospect to satisfy The Public’s need to ensure that every pregnant women it encounters is scared shitless. In fact, you might be surprised to know, most of us have. I know that hearing a secondhand anecdote through your aunt Vi of how your cousin in Bethesda fared in the delivery room makes you a certified expert, and I really don’t mean to disrespect your credentials. Rest assured, I’m scared of the whole thing. You do not need to explicitly ask me. As in: “Aren’t you scared? Isn’t it scary?

Finally, lest anyone accuse me of having pregnancy-induced hyper-sensitivity, I ask you. Am I really that sensitive? Would you have groped me, called me a fatass and engaged in lurid Schadenfreude before I’d gotten pregnant? No? You would have treated me like any other normal, default human being and assumed it’s rude to 1. comment on size or 2. grab body parts? Then maybe you’re the jackass.

Oh, and maybe you’ve put on a few yourself, bub.

heart of darkness 11/17/2006

an old snippet from an IM conversation with mr. smush:

(16:35:28) usrlocalsbin: he reads physics books and goes to like civil war re-enactments
(16:35:44) usrlocalsbin: but he has a great attitude and isnt like painfully nerdy
(16:35:44) mushusmush: … he’s a civil war re-enactor??
(16:36:36) usrlocalsbin: maybe
(16:36:38) usrlocalsbin: i adlibbed that one
(16:36:56) mushusmush: would you stop telling people that other people are civil war re-enactors?
(16:37:01) usrlocalsbin: LOL
(16:37:01) mushusmush: im getting sick of falling for that one.
(16:37:29) mushusmush: now i’m going to have to hold my breath and pretend im dead tonight to pay you back
(16:37:46) usrlocalsbin: great
(16:37:49) usrlocalsbin: just fucking great
(16:37:52) usrlocalsbin: i love that trick btw
(16:38:06) mushusmush: am i the only sick fucker who thinks that’s a funny thing to do?
(16:39:21) mushusmush: i bet you im not.

nomifest! 11/3/2006

since it’s friday, and i think im getting sick, and i have to go visit my parents tomorrow and like no one is in the office today anyway, i decided it was time for a little shot of klaus. so here it is. don’t say i never did anything for you, phil.

we’re all so empowerful now.

Whereas early feminists campaigned tirelessly for improved health care and safe, legal access to abortion, often against a backdrop of public indifference or hostility, today’s feminist asserts control over her biological destiny by wearing a baby-doll T-shirt with the word “Hoochie” spelled in glitter.

oh onion, how you make me laugh and weep at the same time.

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/38558

adventures in gestating 11/2/2006

little homey has a favorite position. it is not a favorite for me, but he certainly seems to like it. it involves jamming a little foot forward against the waist of my jeans. if i press in at the spot, i can feel the outline of a little foot. it’s very strange.

he also gets hiccups a lot. he must get that from me.

what a weird little kid.

you can suck it, babycenter 10/17/2006

so, today babycenter sends me some email about “make sure you’re eating right while you’re pregnant!.” so i think, you know, it’s probably not a bad idea to check in and make sure im not like totally forgetting something and starving the little guy of some vitally important nutreint. the email links me to this.

2-4 servings of fruit a day, 3-5 servings of veg a day, 2-3 servings of meat/beans/protein a day, 2-3 servings of dairy a day, 6-11 servings of bread/cereal/grains a day. jeez. that’s a lot to keep track of. but don’t worry, pregnant lady (for worrying is now what you do best, we know), we have included a tremendously helpful sample menu.

i’ll paste the sample menu here so you don’t have to scroll to find it, because that’s how much i love you. discussion/evisceration to follow immediately.

See a sample menu for a pregnant woman
Here’s an example of a daily menu from the USDA (with a few extra snack suggestions to boost your calcium intake):

Breakfast:
1/4 cantaloupe
2 whole-wheat pancakes with blueberry sauce
1 cup skim milk

Lunch:
Chili-stuffed baked potato topped with low-fat, low-sodium cheddar cheese
1 cup spinach-orange salad
6 wheat crackers
1 cup skim milk

Dinner:
Apricot-glazed chicken, 1 breast half
3/4 cup rice-pasta pilaf
1 cup tossed salad w/ reduced-calorie Italian dressing
2 small hard rolls
1/2 cup vanilla ice milk

Snacks:
6 oz nonfat plain yogurt
1/2 cup fat-free cottage cheese
1/2 medium apple
1 large soft pretzel

are you fucking KIDDING ME?! HALF A FUCKING APPLE?! SIX GODDAMN CRACKERS?! first of all, let’s get one thing clear up front: i. do not. count. crackers.

this is the kind of shit that really chaps my ass. lemme break it down for you. i’m pregnant. i’m gonna get huge. fuck all that demi moore ‘pregnant is hawt’ bullshit. what the fuck is wrong with this fucking society that you have to worry about being fuckable EVEN AT EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT? fuck that. pregnant is NOT hot if you’re the person doing the heavy lifting. it’s only hawt if you’re some jackass privelliged nitwit who wants it to be all beautiful and miraculous because that turns you on, as long as you never have to ponder how the sausage actually gets made, so to speak. and nothing makes a person ponder and have opinions like a woman who has ‘let herself go.’

pregnancy is uncomfortable, undignified and unpleasant for the most part. it has its moments, don’t get me wrong, but physically? it fucking blows, and anyone who tells you otherwise is either in denial or a complete jerk.

every time i check one of those ‘development updates’ for the kid (you can find one for every week of development) there’s always some shit at the end tacked on about how much weight *I* should have gained (read: not gained) by now, and offers helpful links to articles happy to tell me what my fat ass is doing wrong (hint: i eat the whole apple).

oh my fucking god, you can kiss my expanding ass. im creating another human being. if i’ve gained an extra five pounds and it bothers you, it’s really your fucking problem, isn’t it? don’t fucking tell me to eat half a cup of cottage cheese and make sure my dressing is always reduced-calorie and my milk is always skim and i don’t eat TOO MUCH GODDAMN APPLE because i might get fat. what, is the kid going to be born with an extra foot and brain damage because i ate too many oreos? no, of course not. this is all cosmetic bullshit. this is all about keeping pregnant women attractive. one article on “nutrition” i read at least had the cojones to be up-front about their weight-gain concerns for me by adding “remember, any extra weight you pick up is going to be that much more for you to lose after you have the baby!”

seriously. babycenter can suck it.

Why Did I Major in German Studies at College? 9/1/2006

Tell me this is not a nation in need of study. And stick the clip out until at least 2:50 for full effect.

you’re going to hell. 7/18/2006

why are you going to hell? because there’s no room in heaven for people like you. jesus doesn’t want to hang out with the kind of jackass who would steal the pregnant woman’s yogurt.

oh, sure, you didn’t know it was mine, it didn’t say “MEGAN” on it in huge sharpie letters, so i mean, honestly it could have been anyone’s, right? and sure, you didn’t know i’m pregnant and feeling simultaneously so ravenous i could eat human organs and so nauseated i don’t think i could eat even another saltine without horking on my shoes.

but you know what i *can* eat? i can eat nancy’s lowfat yogurt. it goes down and stays down and i don’t feel quite as green once it gets there. and it is only that brand of yogurt that can achieve that for me. and i can only find it at whole foods, which is a 20 minute walk for my pregnant, nauseated, exhausted ass.

also, i’m a pro-choice feminist and all, but i’m not going to balk at calling my little hitch-hiker a “baby” so that you can feel even worse because you’re not just stealing yogurt from me, but you’re also stealing it from my poor, helpless, developing angel-baby. how can angel-baby grow his/her precious little wings if you keep stealing my yogurt? think about that.

man, you’re such an asshole. seriously. jesus wants no part of your shit.

Birds 7/6/2006

whoa, you guys. 5/19/2006

i seriously just blew the biggest snot ever.

it was so great.

< something deep about life > 5/10/2006

i’ve had a very bad day. scratch that, i’ve had a very bad month. long story short, i *may* have Marfan syndrome, which is a big bummer for a lot of reasons, most of them involving cardiologists. today during my echo cardiogram, i got the shit scared out of me by the technicians.

first 8 minutes of test:
*dead silence of two technicians staring intently at a monitor i could not see*
then:
tech 1: “NICE!”
tech 2: “WOW!”

remaining 8 minutes:
*dead silence of two technicians staring intently at a monitor i could not see*

then, tech 1 tells me that if i haven’t done so already, i should schedule an appointment with my doctor so he can go over the results with me, tells me to “enjoy this great weather!” and pops out the door. without ever even aknowledging that i was the person in the room who had been doing all that nice, wow stuff they were looking at, and WHAT THE FUCK WAS IT ??

but then later today, someone i was talking to mentioned pedro the lion, and it made me think about how joe played ‘control’ almost constantly in his car when we were first dating, and it made me want to listen to a few songs, which turned out to be a good idea. because, even though the songs are miserable and about dying and cheating it still gives me nice strong echoes of the way i felt that spring when i was going through the very sweet insanity of falling in love with the most incredible person i will ever meet and i still felt semi-young, semi-beautiful and semi-immortal.

and i guess it all comes down to being able to take the good with the bad and being okay with not being in control of everything.

i’ll let you know if i ever manage to do that.

god damn you, california flora 5/8/2006

i’ve never had allergies like this in my life.

my eyes have been itching for two and a half weeks now. and i mean the kind of itching where you start rubbing your eyes and it feels so fucking good that it has to be the human equivalent of the dog’s itchy spot where his leg just loses it and everyone giggles, only im scratching at my eyes. and that’s just not cute, it’s disgusting. once i get started with the rubbing of the eyes i have to engage willpower to make myself stop. i have to tell myself that as glorious as this feels right at this moment, the second i stop, my eyes are going to be six hundred times itchier, and feel like they each have about a pound of sand in them.

i wake up sneezing at three in the morning. seriously. i wake up out of a sound sleep in a heavy sneezing fit. my throat itches constantly. today, eating a veggie burger, my tongue fell casualty to this hell on earth while doing double duty, managing the chewing and also scratching the roof of my mouth/back of my throat. it seemed to be working fairly well until i nearly bit off the entire right side of said tongue.

fortunately, no one could tell that the tears gushing out of my eyes were due to my inability to feed myself, seeing as everyone’s grown so accustomed to my eyes seeping and leaking all over me all the time. the sleeves of my shirts are permanently damp from all the eyeball mopping i have to do with them.

oh im seriously not looking good these days.

every morning, i plaster my hair down to my head because stray hairs could tickle my face and start off an itching fit that would ultimately have me going home early. then, i put in anti-histamine eyedrops, which sting, and make my eyes water. then i put in rewetting drops to soothe the sting. then i dry my eyes off for the first of what will be approximately seven thousand, nine hundred and sixty three times that day. after that i put heavy-duty moisturizer around my poor eyes because my eylelids and corners are chapped. yes, my eyes are chapped.

oh have i mentioned that allergies exacerbate eczema? no? well after i soothe my chapped eyes, i get to blob cortizone creme all over my hideously discolored and swollen face to at least try to get me to stop tearing it open in places.

i’ve become that sickly kid with the inhalers and the eyedrops and the pills and ointments and salves who sneezes and drips and coughs and can’t go outside and be healthy and robust because s/he is allergic to bright sunny spring days. this is my punishment for torturing that kid. wherever you are, werner krebs, i apologize to you for making fun of your allergies and sickliness. im not apologizing for making fun of your name, though, because i mean, come on. even by german standards, that shit’s just fucked up.

to make it all worse, there’s nothing i can do about it. in the past two weeks we’ve bought:

1. two boxes of benadryl
2. two boxes of alavert (the only shit left in the store — the shelves looked like people were preparing for a hurricane … if preparing for a hurricaine involved buying huge quantities of anti-histamines)
3. a heeeeyoooouge air-filter that has been set to “turbo” for the last two weeks in the desperate hope it will pull at least some of what’s killing me out of the air
4. a dyson vacuum cleaner, same principle
5. nasal spray
6. about three tubes of blistex
7. a big tube of cortizone creme (with aloe!)

not helping.

nevertheless, we’re considering purchasing one of those crazy-ass swedish beds that people can jump up and down on and not upset your glass of chianti. apparently they don’t have the same dust-mite problem that normal beds do and i’ve decided i just have ALL the allergies. and also? they’re made for ASTRONAUTS and maybe sleeping on something that was made for space will trick me into thinking my bedroom is a desolate place with no particles floating around in it other than quarks, neutrinos, muons and gluons, passing happily between the molecules of my body without ever touching anything, and therefore, completely unable to make me sneeze, itch, water or produce more mucous.

i think i haven’t been this unsexy since i was a ridiculously underweight 12 year old wearing sadistic freaked-out orthodontic shit and bright red sally jessy raphael glasses.

no, actually, i was still hotter then.

my eyeballs just exploded 5/5/2006

is this the honkiest motherfucker on the planet? seriously.

go on. detonate your eyeballs.

Bob is my biggest fan. 5/4/2006

Bianca brought it to my attention today that I have been remiss in checking for comments to approve. Apparently a few people actually read this. Problematically, one of those people is my manager. Hopefully he doesn’t look too close at the timestamps on these posts. Nevertheless, I had not seen the wee handful of comments that, for lack of a better term, i will call ‘legitimate’ posts (meaning: i know the freak who wrote it) because you’ve all been outshone so brightly by Bob, the most whimsical spammer ever. Seeing as there are currently something like 267 comments awaiting moderation, all penned by Bob, I almost ticked the mass delete option and forgot about it, until I figured I had better check for comments from YOU people before doing that. That’s how close we came to never having known Bob.

I think what I like most about Bob is his piquant marriage of both subtle irony and a real art for the absurd. To be sure, he’s posted plenty of “online blackjack - texas holdem - viagra” comments, but every artist has to make a living, right? What I’m going to do is share some of the better ones I’ve run across, ones where Bob really let go of the borgeouis constraints of the spamming medium.

For the bored housewife:

beaded purses — home roulette supply

I seriously have to ask. Home roulette supply? What the fuck is that? Is there some weird, underground suburban black-market roulette scene going on that I’m not aware of?

safe pen-pals — sucking black men — IBS and depression

Could this, perhaps, be semi-autobiographical? They say the best art draws from the artist’s personal experiences.

Or how about

rotating hookas — canopy bed pictures

I admit, this one baffles me. Why would anyone need or want either of those two items? Furthermore, the notion of a rotating hooka kinda just blows my mind.

I think my two favorites, though, are:

professional vacuum cleaners — men sucking

and

winnipeg jobs — nonprofit jobs — job satisfaction — hand jobs

The work of a subtle genius your spam may be, Bob. It’s still not making it into my comments, though.

i’ll get you, my pretty … 4/21/2006

so, our neighbor across the street bought what is to my mind the single most obnoxious fashion accessory available, one of those awful little asshole shitbags masquerading as dogs that people like to call chihuahuas. i have no idea what fugue of insanity one has to fall into to find these things cute, much less how many diesel/turpentine cosmos one has to pound to decide to purchase one, but there must be a bar somewhere. a bar with cots where people drink turpentine all day and they pass out chihuahuas.

anyway, her fucking dog. HER FUCKING DOG. god, i can’t tell what’s worse, chihuahuas or their owners, you know? seriously. which is worse? the creepy-ass bug-eyed shivering, quivering little semi-bald insects for whom the default exhalation of every breath they take in is a high-pitched yarp, or the fucking freaks who find it all endearing, and who naturally think the rest of us do too. she carries it around in a little sack, presumably because she wouldn’t want to over-tire it, lest it not have enough energy for the barking frenzy it will sustain the rest of the fucking day. people, this bitch lets her fucking rat out of the house to run up and down our block and bark at the sidewalk every fucking half hour starting at seriously six am.

SIX IN THE AM.

my husband and i are vegetarians but my cat is not, and im pretty sure, even though she’s declawed (we didn’t do it) and afraid of the vacuum cleaner, that she could kick it’s ass. anyway, i’d probably be willing to bend the dietary rules a little since everyone’s always telling me i don’t get enough protein.

maybe some roast rat is just what i need.

Long Time No See 4/7/2006

ohmygodnowayimsoback!

hello all four of you. i’m dusting the old blog off, so you’ll be able to hopefully tune in for a healthy dose of vitriol when you’re in the mood. i found a bunch of old posts that never got published because i never got around to cleaning up the rough drafts, so i plan on fixing them up and finally kicking them out of the nest, completely dated or not. or at least i think i’ll do that for one of them.

things going the way they are in this fucking insane-assylum of a country i live in, i’ll probably be getting more and more political, so if that’s not your cup of tea, i apologize.

anyway, stick around.

the devil is 5 foot 2 and carries a golf umbrella 4/28/2005

hello my lambs. you’ll all be happy to know that i’ve located a much better coffee supplier. the nearest peet’s was pointed out to me by my manager here at gamesplop, who has taken to putting notices in my code that “Megan is a trekkie,” which i think stretches the truth a bit. yes, hugh (nee ‘third of five’) brought more than a few tears to my eye when he uttered the words in his borgy-voice “they do not wish to be assimilated,” but i’ve never been to a trek convention so i think someone may be getting a tad overzealous in his classifications. i guess we take the good with the bad.

onwards. today it’s drizzling a little. i firmly believe that folks from hereabouts can tell the difference between drizzle and cats-and-dogs, seeing as the local passtime seems to be bitching about rain. why, then, did so many people have their brollies out this morning? not that i have anything against the wussies, i just found it strange.

there was, however, one particular breed of wimp i wanted to have wheeled out and shot, the Short Person With Golf Umbrella. those of you over 5′8 will understand where i’m coming from. i nearly lost more eyes than i have, thanks to the little shits.

… sorry, folks, i got nothing this morning. come back this weekend; the movers are coming tomorrow morning, that should make me pretty disagreeable for a while.

some of us actually do expect the spanish inquisition 4/20/2005

so. they’ve chosen themselves a pope, all those ridiculous old men who like to wear red. they did it behind closed doors, something i find ironic for a group that spends so much of its time forcing its way through other people’s closed doors and decreeing what is and is not to occur there. but if i start listing all the brilliant hypocrasies of the vatican, we’ll be here all day, really. so i’ll just focus on the one or two that really take the cake.

who have they chosen? they’ve chosen cardinal joseph ratzinger, someone the news outlets i’ve found have been falling all over themselves to describe as “an intellectual” and “a philosopher,” apparently because he taught at the university of tübingen. this is an interesting characterization, seeing as most of the shit he’s written has been simply tearing apart other religions for not making any sense, tearing up feminism for destroying the nuclear family and tearing up homosexuality for being a perversion. not exactly what i consider heavy intellectualism coming from a catholic cardinal. i’ve read him described from more than one source as “a controversial choice” because of his views on women and on homosexuality and on the church in general. this is all true. by all accounts he appears to be a complete cromag.

but, lets take a step back folks. lets take a larger look at the room. whats that thing in the middle of it? the huge thing with the trunk that no one is talking about? that would be the years he spent as a nazi, helping germany in its attempt to exterminate the jews, roma and homosexual men. yes, our pope joined up with the hitler jugend when he was 14 and stuck with it until the war ended in 1945. the spin is that he “deserted” the army in 1945 and was “taken capture” by the allies. yes. a very courageous stand to take, deserting after the war had been lost and surrendering to an army you know perfectly well is not going to execute you. but they tell us that it was his time as a nazi soldier that made him realize how important peace is.

to me, his views on women’s place in society and the moral worth of homosexuals seem to be uncomforatbly reminiscent of the opinions of WWII germany, so i’m dubious of how deep an effect the war really had on his moral compass (perhaps that’s unfair, i dont know; i have a hard time being fair when it comes to people who ever wore nazi uniforms, but i would think that seeing what irrational hate and fear of large groups of people can lead to would make one a much more accepting human being). what i find particularly nauseating, however, is that a man who once killed other human beings in military service to nazi germany sees fit to declare that women aren’t good enough for ordination. it would seem all the catholic nuns who were busy risking their lives to hide jewish children while he was off helping his country exterminate their parents are less suitable spiritual guides than he is, regardless of the fact that he lacked the moral courage and, let’s face it, spirit of god enough to resist. likewise, he would tell us that someone like sophie scholl, a girl who was executed for her nazi resistance activities that were largely informed by her faith in god, is similarly an unsuitable moral leader (note that i am in no way suggesting that women were the sole actors for good in that war; i only highlight specific women in this case as women as a group are being judged as unworthy to speak for god). yet he will now be able to literally pontificate on the sanctity of life, this man who fought in service of a group that western history has come to understand as the absolute antithesis of respect for the sanctity of life.

now, i understand that he was basically a kid during his years with the german army (he would have been all of 18 in 1945, i believe), and i’m certainly not intending to compare him to himmler or goebbels or any of the other party glitterati. i understand perfectly well how people in caught up in completely insanse situations can find themselves participating in insane things. however, i am suggesting that a man with such a dirty, dirty smear on his moral record should probably shut his fucking mouth when it comes to the judging the ecclesiastical suitability of other humans who were clearly and obviously being much more influenced by a spirit of god.

i suppose, bottom line, my question is this: if women aren’t fit to be moral and spiritual guides because of our ovaries, shouldn’t we at LEAST expect that god’s representative on earth NOT have ever been a nazi??