Meg Speak

Enjoy!!!

I hate Chris Crocker for several reasons, most of them having to do with him being annoying as hell which is why I am sad to announce that he has inked a deal to have his own tv show. What the hell? If you have seen his videos (a few below so you can witness the insanity yourself) then you know that he is a sometimes cross-dressing sissy who has an unhealthy obsession with Britney Spears, lives with his grandparents, has awful hair, is extremely vain and likes to yell at the camera. I’ve told many people (before learning about his new tv show) that Chris Crocker was either and idiot or a genius. Apparently he is both. Yes, his name is now well known and he was even parodied by Seth Green. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I am only one of many, many people who would like to beat him senseless. Please, let’s pray that his show gets cancelled before I have to endure Chris Crocker commercials. It’s bad enough that several times a day I stumble across his name on various website. Please, I beg of you, don’t let him penetrate my Grey’s Anatomy time.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007, was pretty close to being the worst day of my life. It all started with my Chemistry midterm. I left my house at 7:10 (as I do every morning) to get to my 8 a.m. class super early, only this time things were a little different. There was an accident on the 101 and it took me 40 minutes to go 15 miles. As I’m watching the minutes tick on by I am starting to freak out more and more. At 7:35 the sobbing started as I sat in my car, unmoving, realizing I would be late to my first midterm.

Here is where I need to insert a little info about me:

I graduated in ’04 deciding that I wanted to be a forensic pathologist. I took a semester of necessary classes (along with working a job at a dental office) and slowly realized that perhaps it forensic psychology wasn’t for me. My second semester of college I took a stupid class like Archeological Anthropology and realized I had no idea what I wanted to do in life. So, of course, I quit school and went to work at a law firm as a receptionist and then as a file clerk – Full time. I tried to go to school while working, but it was near impossible to find classes that worked around my schedule, so I took Spanish and that’s about it. Two years later I quit my job to go back to school full time. I moved to Santa Barbara and decided that Nursing is what I will do with my life. Or at least, that’s what I think I’ll do. I’m 21; I’m not supposed to know what I want to be.

Moving On:

I am back at school and a lot is riding on me doing well. Nursing school is very difficult to get into (300 apply, 30 get in) so I know I need to not only ace my classes, but I need to wow them as well. So here I am, my first midterm (that counted) and I was going to miss it. I’m sobbing in between leaving a panicked message on my professor’s voicemail and talking to my mom. At 7:50 I pulled into my school’s parking lot. Somehow in ten minutes I found a spot, hiked my ass up the huge hill that leads to the classes and skirted into the classroom at 7:59. I was sweaty, out of breath and more than stressed out, but I made it. Let’s just hope I didn’t fail it.

So my day started quite stressfully and it never really let up. I was supposed to tutor my first English class (that’s right, class, not individual) and I had 3 hours to fill out necessary paperwork, watch 2.5 hours of training videos, fill out a response packet and find my class. Needless to say, I was a whirlwind across both campuses (2 campuses attached by a bridge) but I made it to my tutoring session in time. Here’s when things got a little sketch.

You know those movies where all the riffraff kids of the school are kept in a dingy looking classroom in the basement of the school and some noble teacher tries to change their lives forever? (Think: Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit, Take the Lead, Freedom Writers, etc.) Exactly like that. My school is amazingly beautiful. It’s located right on the beach, the weather is perfect and all the classrooms are well lit, ventilated and have either a view of the beach or of the gorgeous campus. Not this classroom. This classroom was in the basement of the Drama building.  There were no windows and no clocks; just cinderblock walls and poor lighting. This place looked like a prison, and the kids definitely looked like inmates.

There were only a few girls in the classroom, but all of the looked cracked out with stringy hair, emaciated bodies, dark circles under their eyes and pale, crusty looking skin. Most of the guys in the class were large tattooed black men. I have absolutely nothing against black men, I actually quite enjoy them (hint hint wink wink) but these gentlemen were like the ones you would find in the prison yard bench pressing the other inmates. And let me tell you, these kids did not want to be there. Then again, after five minutes or so, neither did I.

I walked around and asked if anyone needed help and after being ignored and then laughed at, I went about the task of editing their essays. Holy Shit. I have never in my life seen essays like these. The grammar was horrible, the tenses were all screwy, slang and profanity was everywhere and in general, they were just bad. Below is an excerpt from one of the essays:

“Then I heard a bitch ass knock on my door like one of my ladies was comin over to deliver some ass and my little head got excited thinking it is my baby mom and so I opened the door to find the five-0.”

What? And this was one of the better essays. I am seriously scared. This person was talking about how he was this drug dealer and was arrested on kidnapping suspicion, etc. Now he’s a great guy, a father and grandfather, but let me tell you something; he scares the shit out of me.

Best part: They original teacher went missing. No one knows where she is.

So I leave my tutoring session feeling rejected, defeated and a little sad. I really wanted to help these people, but they definitely didn’t want my help. Oh well, off to my first Hospice patient’s house!!!

I get there and the wife of my patient lets me in and walks me to a back room where the husband (an older man suffering from prostate cancer) is in a hospital bed. The three of us chat for 30 minutes or so and then the wife kicks me out. What? I’m supposed to be here for 2 hours. I was sweet, smart, funny and pretty much everything you would want from a volunteer, but 30 minutes in the wife escorts me to the door. I let her know that I am there for her just as much as I am for her husband and that she can call me anytime she needs to get out to spend sometime alone or go grocery shopping or if she just needed a hand. She laughed at me. Seriously, no joke, the old bitch laughed in my face and then told me that she has hired help from 9 a.m. – 3 p.m. to do that and I was “just not needed”. WTF? She requested a volunteer and now she is telling me that I am not needed. She then goes on to say that she would prefer a male volunteer as a female one would “not be appropriate”. Okay, fine, but why not say that before you waste 30 minutes of my time, or better yet, why didn’t you just request a male volunteer? Why tell Hospice any type of volunteer would be fine?  I HATE PEOPLE!!!!

So I went home feeling rejected and realized I ended my day just as I had started it; sobbing in my car. I came home and slept for 13 hours and then woke up to start all over again at my 8 a.m. class.

I’m never going to try to help people again.

New thing I'm going to start doing. "Weekly 7" featuring 7 pictures from my Funny Photo folder on my comp. Hear that insane giggle? That's me enjoying these pictures.

I’m a peruser of Digg.com and somehow I came across this woman’s blog on there. Let me tell you; comic gold. The author’s name is Crystal and she blogs about her life, marriage and kids, but not in a mommy type of way. More like the kind of talk you share with your friends over whisky and KFC. I love her. I’ve read every one of her posts, and I absolutely adore that she is a booby female also. The “tig bitties” of the world need to stick together. Crystal “McKnob”, I adore you.

http://boobsinjuriesanddrpepper.blogspot.com/

I sleep weird. If you’ve never shared a bed with me then you are blissfully unaware of my oddities, but there it is; I sleep weird. While I am falling asleep I will periodically make little noises or moans. I have absolutely no control over this and it is embarrassing as hell. For instance, when I was in high school my English teacher told us to sit quietly or nap after we finish our test. I finished quickly, as I always do, and decided to put my head down. Next thing I know I’m making a “mmmm” noise that jolts me awake. I look around and people are staring at me. Quick thinker that I am I decided to fake yawn and stretch and make another “mmmm” this time as a “this stretch feels great” kind of yawn. I’m sure no one was fooled, but I felt a little better about the situation.

Another other oddity is that I like to sleep with limbs in odd positions. For instance, I like to sleep with my feet flat on the bed with my knees in the air. I have no idea why I enjoy this so much, but I do. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that my legs are never straight when I sleep. Nope, they are in the air, curled up by my chest, or Indian style. That’s right; I awoke once to find that my legs were crossed as if I had been sitting Indian style and just decided to lean back. WTF? Who sleeps like this? Oh yes, only me.

So today around 4 p.m. I decide that I am just too sleepy to continue so I retired to the bedroom for a catnap. Matt’s in there working on his computer so he’s talking to me a little bit while I am trying to fall asleep. Apparently, he found the position I got into AFTER I fell asleep hilarious. Do me a favor and lay or your back with your hands behind your head. Okay, now turn to your right side while keeping your hands where they were. There. You have it. I had my right arm on the pillow and my left elbow pointing straight up while my hand rested on my head. Matt particularly finds it funny when I get into the one knee up stance going along with the elbow so that I am completely on my right side with both my left knee and elbow pointing towards the ceiling.

I’m a freak.

Before I moved in with Matt my mother told him about another odd habit I will have. See, I tend to run myself to the point of exhaustion to I will fall asleep anywhere in the house. She cautioned him to not freak out if/when he ever tried to wake me while I’m in this state. Typically I am super easy to wake up. Seriously, all you have to do is say my name quietly one or twice and I am awake. Hell, one time my mother was in the kitchen (on the other end of the house) and she began humming the Good Morning song that she used to sing annoyingly every morning while we ate breakfast. Somehow my bionic sleeping ears pick this up and I jolt awake. WTF? So this is why it is quite surprising to anyone trying to wake me up when I am in my dead-to-the-world exhaustion phases because I don’t really wake up. Instead, I do something kind of creepy. My mother told Matt about the time when I fell asleep on the couch and she tried waking me up so I’d head off to bed. She said my name repeatedly; nothing. She shook me; nothing. Finally she kind of yelled at me/ shook me and I shot up and stared at her. I was completely asleep and dead to the world, but there I was staring at my mom with completely unblinking eyes. She stood there for about a minute while I stared at her and then she started saying firmly “Megan, go to bed” over and over again until I stood up and walked to my room. I have absolutely no recollection of this as I was still asleep, but I’ve got to admit that it’s kind of creepy to have someone shoot up from their sleeping position and just stare at you. Apparently I have zombie in me that only comes out when I am exhausted.

So Matt takes this all to heart and we never speak of it again until several months later. As he tells it, we were both sleeping peacefully when I shot up and just stared out in front of me for about a minute before limply falling back onto my pillow. Who does this?

I’m not promiscuous, not just because of my morals, but because I’m terrified I’d do something to scare the crap out of the person I am sleeping next to or they would laugh at me. Growing up I’d share a bed with friends and every morning we would have a nice laugh over something ridiculous I did in my sleep. Oh, and let’s not even talk about the time I spent as a camp counselor. Humiliation.

You know those people who have a position of power who really shouldn’t have any power whatsoever? Maybe they are a jerk, indifferent, incompetent, not a leader, what have you, but they really shouldn’t be in charge of anyone other than themselves. Well, I am dealing with that person. She is in charge of assigning tutors to teachers at my school. There are several things wrong with her management skills:

1. She doesn’t listen to a thing you say – I told her that I was currently in Chem 101, Math 107 and English 110 with the hopes of being accepted into nursing school in a year. So, she tries to sign me up to be a tutor for 3 different nursing classes until I finally convinced her that I had not taken a single nursing class. She then tries to set me up to tutor classes while I am in class ten seconds after I tell her what times I am in class. Sure, I’ll be in two places at once. Dumbass. Finally she decides I should tutor two English as a Second Language classes. Fine with me, even though they are not even close to when I am on campus, I will work it out.
2. She is impossible to get a hold of and will drop the ball – So I go home with the distinct impression that I will be tutoring for two different ESL classes. I was told I would be contacted in two days. Never happened. I called her numerous times and she FINALLY called me back to tell me there would be two different classes I will be tutoring. One of them starts while I am still in class, but hell, we’ll work it out, and the other is… the class that I am in. What?
3. She is completely unaware of the rules – She tells me to just “show up” to the classes she assigned me. But     possibly I might want to talk to Mrs. H about some paper work. Bah! I have 1 day (during midterms) to watch 4 hours of videos, fill out a bunch of paperwork, and meet with a group of people to get an evaluation as to whether or not I should be a tutor. What? I thought I just had to “show up”. I should be studying for my Chem final, not watching retarded movies about how to properly help people. Ah. Bite me.

I tried to be nice. I bought little sticky traps that were supposed to keep you stuck in a box where you would not suffer or die, but live happily in one place, unmoving, feasting upon glue and cardboard. It could have been win-win. You would have a gluttonous life and I would not have to be horrified to find 7 of you on the floor in the morning, unmoving, pretending not to be there until I step into the room and all of you scatter. Do you know how frightening that is? When you don't move you look like a smudge, a small shoe scuff or a piece of dirt. We keep the place clean, but with all the ash in the area, it's impossible to be spotless, so you blend in. Screw you silverfish. You did not hold up your end of the deal. I get nice surprises at night when I find you by the bed or in the bathroom and again in the morning when I catch you in the kitchen, bathroom and closet.

It's time for you to die

I found a lovely powder that will poison you and if you do not die from ingestion then you will die from it "drying you out". Boo ya. You touch it and it sucks all the moisture out of your disgusting little body. That's what you get for not cooperating with the female resident who is afraid of all things creepy and crawly, and you are both. You have 5-7 business days (or until it gets here) to clear out before I start the genocide.

Memo to you, Silverfish. This is a Megan residential area now. Please accept this as your official eviction notice.

In my perfect world there would be hard core capital punishment. The kind if punishment that if you were a pedophile (a real pedophile, you know, kiddy picts, molestation, etc. Not accidental pedophiles. They exist, I swear.) you would get your dick cut off and then thrown into a pit with all the other pedophiles and the last one standing gets jail time in our oh so cushy facilities. Cage match meets Battle Royal.

I also believe in gay marriage. Who am I to tell you who you can love? As long as you are consenting adults then do what you like and let God sort it out. (If you are going to tell me that I am a bad Christian because of this then I think you should go look at the part in the Bible where it says not to judge! Why is it all of the hardcore Christians are the most judgemental people around? No wonder people hate Christians! These people represent themselves and total self righteous assholes. Love God, but I hate his fan club. Just a thought.)

I think the age limit for drinking should be set by IQ, same as when you can vote and purchase firearms.

If you rape and kill someone then you should be publicly hanged. I think we should resort back to olden times where I could spit on you and throw stones at you while you are on the way to your death.

If you are an illegal immigrant you have 1 year to get yourself a real job. If you hold that job for 12 months and you haven't broken any laws then you get citizenship. You will forever be taxed like the rest of us. You will need insurance, you will pay rent, you will have all the goods and bads that every American citizen gets. Welcome to America, give us your money because you won't be freeloading anymore.