An open letter to Miley Cyrus

Dear Miley,

Hey girlfriend.  How've you been?  I see you are still making music.  That's nice.  You've always liked the whole music thing, right?  Look, Mile-igator.  We need to talk.  It's just that...I don't know if we can keep doing this.

Don't get me wrong, I've been nothing short of a devoted fan.  In the not so distant past, my favorite TV show was Hannah Montana.  I had a Hannah Montana sleeping bag that lit up whenever it was touched.  I even had socks with your face on them.  Do you understand?  I wore your face on my feet every single day.  So I want you to know that this isn't about your past.  Really.  It's not.

I just think we've gone our separate ways, you know?  You smoke a bong and I'm not even entirely sure what a bong is.  You are really good at hip thrusting and I'm fairly positive that if I ever tried to pull off one of your dance moves, I would injure myself horribly.  You like to wear things that make your boobs look awesome.  I like to wear Star Wars shirts.  Do you see what I'm getting at here?  We're just different people, Mile-inator.

I'm really sorry, honest.  I wanna back you up here, but I don't know where to start.  When you got all naked sexy sheet-tastic for Vanity Fair, I defended you.  I figured that everyone is entitled to their own choices, even a preteen icon.  I still think that, Miley.  I do. 

When you suddenly popped up all over the internet in your underwear, I felt bad for you.  I felt bad that the media would inevitably bombard you with criticism and meanness.  I thought you probably would be really upset.  I was totes on your side, Miles.

And heaven knows that when your new music video came out and I saw you shakin' your thaaaang and crooning about how you simply cannot be tamed, I said, "Wow.  That girl does NOT want to be tamed.  Huh."  I might have shaken my head in disappointment, Miley, but I didn't condemn.  I still don't condemn.  I want you to know that.

Wow.  Is this as hard for you as it is for me?  Because this is really hard for me. 

Now, there's the bong video.  And there's that lap dance you gave your director.  Also, all that sexy-time dancing and sexy-sexy-time outfits.  I'm not really diggin' it, Miley.  Not at all.  But the real truth, the reason that we are totally over, isn't so much about any of that. The real reason is so much deeper.  So much more painful.  It's...well, it's your legs.

CURSE YOU, Miley!  Curse you and your hot, long legs!  Why?!?!  Why must I be tortured with jealousy every time I see them?  They look freaking AWESOME in heels.  They make your skirts and dresses incredible.  I HATE YOUR LEGS.  SO MUCH.  XOMGsfWIEAHOGIWIH!@@!!!!

I'm glad we had this talk.

Love,
Megan

Megan tries to function normally and set up her Christmas present: part one

Today I got a camera for Christmas because sometimes I want to take pictures to show you people what the heck I'm talking about instead of drawing something that we all could have lived without seeing EVERY TIME.  Now I'm going to attempt to set up my camera and make it all operational and stuff.  And because I’m positive that I will either irreparably damage it or some sort of hilarity will ensue, I will be live-blogging the experience!   It will probably be totally boring.


PART ONE: This Is An Ominous Title About A Camera

-I just opened the box.  There are 2,334 parts in here.  Approximately.  Hopefully the instructions say “lose 2,323 of the parts within the first 3 minutes of opening the box.”

-…The camera is wrapped in plastic.  The plastic is much more difficult to open than one would generally expect.  Even for me.

-Okay…so there are two cd’s here…I think one is like a guide?  Yeah?  And there’s a paper guide?  Freak, Nikon.  Way to waste resources.  I’m gonna go with the paper issue because I hate trees and also I will probably ruin the CD.

-Obviously these set up instructions were made with me in mind.  Step one: “Take the camera out of the box.”

-I will now attempt to “attach the camera strap.”  SUCCESS!  I am a camera wizard!!!

-Hmmm.  What does “32MB “ mean?

-I’m supposed to “open the battery chamber” which sounds funny because I distinctly feel like this is the Chamber of Secrets, considering the fact that I cannot locate the battery chamber.  Maybe I have to speak parseltongue.

-Look at that.  The battery chamber is labeled, “battery.”  Weird.

-“Insert the supplied battery”=oh crap.  I lost it.  It is not here, unless it is wire shaped and/or is made out of the User's Manual.  Stupid NIKON!

-Found the battery.  It was in the box.

-Inserting this battery will “damage the camera” if I do it wrong in any way.  Also I must use the edge of the battery to push the orange battery latch in the direction indicated by the arrow and fully insert the battery so that it locks into place…..hahaha my camera is screwed.

-That was easier than expected.  Also, I liked the orange latch.  It was very orange.  CAMERA WIZARD, over here!

-It came with a memory card that is water, temperature, shock and x-ray proof.  At first I was tempted to say, “hey, don’t you think you’re going overboard on the protection factor?” and then I thought about the fact that I own this memory card and suddenly it seems more reasonable.  In fact, they should have also made it impact proof and punch proof, because sometimes I get frustrated and lash out.  Sorry, memory card.

-On the back of the memory card package there is an explanation in Portuguese and I was all, “HEY I SPEAK THAT LANGUAGE, YES, SKILL TIME!” but then I remembered that I didn’t even understand the English version.  Oh.  Right.

-…I have to get scissors to open this stupid thing?  Whatever.  I don’t mind doing all the work.  Also I didn’t even just cut myself with the scissors which is a minor miracle because I have sustained two cuts on the knuckle of my left ring finger so far today in different present-opening incidents.  One involved a swiss army knife.  Poor left ring finger. 

-It says to close the door of the battery chamber, but the door doesn’t close.  It just swings out on its stupid little springs.  STOP LYING TO ME, USER’S MANUAL.

-Oh.  There’s a button for that.  It occurs to me at this point that many may suspect that my inadequacy is feigned.  Au contraire.  I really am this inadequate.  So take that.

-“Use the supplied Charging AC Adapter EH-68P and USB Cable UC-E6 to charge the supplied Rechargeable Li-ion Battery EN-EL 10 while it is in the camera.”  Oh.  Okay, I’ll do that.

-Hahahaha my battery is named “Li-ion.”  I bet it has a stutter.  My poor, challenged battery.

-Now I’m supposed to stick a plug adapter onto the Charging AC Adapter, which is inexplicably capitalized.

-The instructions say that if I am in Argentina, the plug adapter is not supplied.  Why?  I’M A PERSON TOO, NIKON.  Not that I’m in Argentina, but what if I were?  WHAT IF I WERE.

-Hmm.  All these plastic wrapped parts appear to be about the same.  Hmmmmmmm.  Hmmmmmmmmm.  I wonder if there was no snow outside this Christmas because the Universe was giving me a gift.  Maybe it wants to be friends.


-No, don't be stupid, self.

-Now, I can’t be positive because I’m an idiot, but I think I’m missing a piece.  Maybe Santa bought me this camera in Argentina.  I knew this would come up.

-Did I just have a stroke?  Where is that dumb plug adapter?  I CHECKED THE BOX.  DON’T TELL ME TO CHECK THE BOX.  IT’S NOT IN THERE.

-I did NOT lose it.  I know I didn’t lose it because just because ALRIGHT?!?!

-I can only conclude that my camera was purchased in Argentina.  The Argentina instructions say to move on.  Does this mean that I’m a citizen now?  Do I have to learn Spanish?

-So…out of this pile of wires I now need to locate the wire that will connect my half-formed chargy thingy to the camera part of the camera via a little hole in the camera thing.  WIZARD!

-Why is one wire connected to yellow and white things?  Do they plug into the TV?  Are they for the Nintendo 64?  I’m so confused.  NIKON YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE.

-Why is everything labeled with numbers and random letters, by the way?  Instead of telling me to connect “EH-68P and USB Cable UC-E6” to “Li-ion Battery EN-EL 10” it should just tell me to connect Ralph the Dragon, Jermaine Stevens, and Martin Van Buren.  I would totally remember that and I would also probably grow more attached to my camera and also people would relate to Nikon’s cameras better and sales would boom.  Everyone wins.  Nikon should hire me.

-Ha!  I totes connected this all up.  Probably with the wrong wire.  Whatever.  I have one word: WIZARD!

-Huh.  The manual says that I need to charge the battery for three hours.  Well the way I see it I have three options: 1. Stay up for three hours and then probably three more as I attempt to figure the rest of this crap out, 2. Go to sleep and finish this tomorrow in a part two installment, 3. Wait for the Nikon fairy to come and charge my battery for me.  I choose option 2.  WIZARD!

-I don't really even remember what the context is for "WIZARD!" anymore.

Finals and why they are ruining everything for the world

Hi.  Normally I would try to post.  Really.  But there's this thing about college and it's called Finals Week and it wears a pointy hat and cackles darkly at every college student in the world.  For the time being, Finals Week is my master.  That means that I have nothing for you.  Except apologies and this drawing of The Muffin of Shame.

I still feel like I haven't really made it up to you.  What can I do?  Hire a monkey to love you forever?  Summon a rainbow to follow you wherever your darling feet trod? Tap dance with feeling?  I just don't know.

How about another drawing?

YAY!!!!

Anyway, I should be back to posting ridiculous rants about crap that no one cares about soon enough.  Please love me in my absence.  It makes me feel like a real woman.

...Clearly I need more sleep.


Comment that I completely relate with: "Finals are the devil's quizzes. Just like stairs are the devil's hills." -Nadia Murti

I am going to be killed by a pile of snow. Probably very soon.

Congratulations, my friends.  Since you read my blog, you are about to be treated to 4 months of me whining about the snow and how horrible it is and how much I hate it and how it is an attempt by the Universe to kill me.  Which it is.  I KNOW IT.

Here in Utah, Winter can last for half of the year.  HALF OF THE YEAR.  If the year has two parts, Winter is one of those parts.  I know, I know.  "MEGAN TRY LIVING IN MONTANA, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT COLD IS!!!"  Yes I do.  I don't live in Montana because if I did I would be dead.  And that's where my logic ends.

Anyway, it was snowing for a while up at campus.  Then, miraculously, it stopped!  I have been known to weep bitterly when I see the first snowfall of the year (hint:every single year) so when it stopped it felt like Christmas had come early and I was already enjoying the unicorn that I KNOW is waiting for me under the tree.  (I shook the present that looked like a book.  It sounded like a unicorn, or a book.  I'm betting it's a unicorn, though.  A unicorn with a monocle that will breathe glitter into my oatmeal.  I don't like oatmeal, but if I did, my unicorn would breathe glitter into it, cause he's a nice guy like that.)

Over the next few days, all of the snow melted because the sun was being awesome.  However, a few days before, some boys had made a snowman.  A big, huge snowman.  I took pleasure in watching this snowman die tragically.  Is that cruel?  I don't know.  I just know that, "DIE, Frosty, DIE!!" has become my new mantra.

Soon, all the snow had disappeared except for a big pile of half-melted snow where the snowman used to be:

It won't go away.  And it's mocking me.  And it hates me.  It's like the Universe just wants to make sure that I know that the battle isn't over.  Normally I would say "bring it on, UNIVERSE!" but now I'm scared that a slush pile monster is going to devour me when I least expect it.

Awesome.


Truest comment: "I think anyone who says they like/love Winter, doesn't really know what they mean by that. Winter is cold, dark, wet, lifeless and cruel. What they like is hot chocolate, cuddling cause "It'll make us warmer" skiing, snowboarding, getting WARM by the fire and the fact that Christmas must be getting close. You only like the snow if you're wearing five hoodies and A coat that's so thick you can't bend your arms. Too often do we misinterpret what it is we actually want."-leaflock

...Should I be upset?

I received this comment from "anonymous" today (I edited the bad word.  WHOOO for pretension!):

"F*** you and everyone who comments on this. Your blogs are pretentious and, although it is clear you are joking, it is not funny in the least. You have a very immature sense of humor and I despise you more than anybody could despise anything. Ever."


My initial response was disbelief, as I wondered why, in the same sentence, anonymous insults both me and him/herself...cause...you know...he/she commented on "this."

Then I laughed.

Anonymous, do you really despise me more than anything ever?  Wanna know things that I despise?
1. Genocide
2. Domestic abuse
3. Being chased by geese
4. Murder
5. Road maps
6. Any maps
7. Murder again

This clearly calls for another award.

 Anonymous, don't feel bad.  I made one for you too:

I will literally give you that hug.  No, really.  I'm being serious.  Why don't you email me and we'll talk it out, huh?  Then there can be rainbows and butterflies and we can all learn to respect each other and enjoy each other and have enough decency not to despise/insult total strangers just because some people don't like unicorns jokes and others do. 

Differences, kids.  They make us special.


P.S. Just so we're all clear, insulting me is just fine.  But your comments will be marked as spam and I might write an immature and pretentious post about it.  "But Megan, FREE SPEECH!  You just don't want to deal with anyone who disagrees!"

Um, duh.  This is MY blog.  Free speech doesn't apply so much.  Why would I let anyone say icky things about me and my readers?  It's insulting to the very concepts of acceptance and free speech.  If you want to disagree with me respectfully, knock yourself out.  Otherwise, let me reiterate a point: IT'S MY BLOG, I DO WHAT I WANT!  HAHAHA!

Excerpts from my journal part 1

Before I started blogging regularly, I kept a journal.  But not a real journal, per se, more like a book consisting of every stray, unintelligible, crazy, erratic, nonsensical thought that ever bounced around in my brain.  In school, if I didn't have my journal I would FREAK OUT because WHERE WILL I WRITE ABOUT THE COMPARATIVE QUALITIES OF K$SHA AND LADY GAGAWHEREIASKYOU!?!?!?!?  Once, I forgot it and spent all of my theater class filling up an entire white erase board with the random mind-spewage that could not be contained.  My friend Amber took pictures.  I'll ask for them.  THEN YOU WILL SEE HOW WEIRD I REALLY AM.

But you're about to anyway:

March 31, 2010

-You know how sometimes you have those days when you wake up and you're all, "um, I don't want to go to U.S. government," so you go back to bed and wake up half an hour later and think, "I don't really want to go to biology," so you go back to sleep but then you realize you forgot to call Morgan, so you do and then she laughs at you for being so lame, and you laugh too, and then you go back to bed, and later you wake up and finally shower, but all you really feel like doing is acting out a zombie apocalypse on facebook?  Yeah.  I'm having one of those days.

Friday, April 23, 2010

-I assume that you make socially awkward comments because you're obsessed with me.
-No matter how many times I tell myself I'm not going to spill, I always spill.


May 3, 2010

-Fruit salad:  Banana is the gross, awkward second cousin that you include so that he doesn't feel bad, but you feel bad, cause he smells.  Pineapple is the really loud, fat, obnoxious aunt.  You're trying to enjoy raspberry or make out with your boyfriend strawberry, and Aunt Pineapple comes up to you and starts laughing really loudly and yelling about childbirth and how her bunions hurt.  So yeah.  Fruit salad is like an awkward family reunion.  You could say that.

-K$sha VERSUS Lady Gaga:

Okay, first of all, K$sha spells her name like an idiot.

1. Dinner with Kesha would probably end like this: "Kesha...here, I'll take you home, put down the vodka...Hey put your shirt back on!  Oh...wow you sure can vomit." 
Lady Gaga would probably talk about interesting things like...well I don't know.  Maybe I'll just talk about Lady Gaga herself.

2. Kesha would probably win in a fight, assuming she wasn't drunk.
Lady Gaga could outdance Kesha any day of the week.  And she'd probably drive drunk Kesha home.

3. A drunk Kesha video game would be so awesome.
A Lady Gaga video game would probably just be a lot of hip thrusting.

4. "Your Love is My Drug" is kind of catchy.
Lady Gaga has about 100,025 zillion dollars worth of better songs, in comparison.

5. I wouldn't want to meet Kesha.  I just want to shamefully listen to one or two of her jams where no one will find out.
Meeting Lady Gaga would be scary.  But awesome.

May 4, 2010
-Apparently, it's Ke-dollarsign-ha.  Not K-dollarsign-sha.  So Ke$ha.  Not K$sha....Whatever.  She spells it like an idiot.  I don't feel bad.  YOU DON'T OWN ME, K$SHA!

May 8, 2010
-Would the world be better, worse, or neutral if I never cleaned my room?

May 10, 2010
-This is just like the time I asked--nay, DEMANDED that my mother extend my curfew.  In that this also did not go well.

-And at this point I'm all, whatever.  Just give me the freakin' alkaseltzer.

-I'm not sure how alkaseltzer would help in this situation, but it sounds up to the task.

-I realize that my desk wold be more functional if I cleaned it.  But when crap covers every surface in my room--well, that really speaks to me.

-Tyler just informed me that "crap" is a swear word in England.  It feels like my birthday.

May 16, 2010

-You lack life-blood.

May 25 (ish. ?) 2010

-Yeah, who needs to keep track of the days?  Not me.  That's who.

May 28, 2010

-Sometimes I accidentally make things awkward without noticing.

-Actually, the most awkward thing about me is probably how often I talk about being awkward.

-...Does anyone want to elope?




As you can see, my entries don't follow any sort of linear, cohesive train of thought.  They consist of a lot of one-liners that confuse me when I go back and read them.

One day I will include more entries complete with the illustrations straight from the journal.   Also, assuming no one is so freaked out at my insanity, I will publish MOAR ENTRIEEEZZZ!

Actually, I probably will anyway, whether you're freaked out or not.

Feel accomplished the easy way!

Some people are just really good at stuff, you know?  They walk into a room and they're all, "Oh hey.  I won an award for having the sexiest hair in the Western hemisphere.  Also, I got an A in every class ever and am excused from all schooling for forever.  And this morning I burped and twelve people were cured of infectious diseases.  What's up with you?"  It's at this point that I need something better to say than, "Um.  I drew bears for seven hours last night."

Not everyone can be Superman/Dan Bergstein/Harry Potter, right?  Some of us just don't win things (I may or may not be talking specifically about myself).  That is why I have decided to do us all a favor.  Below you will find some very stylish awards that you are free to stick anywhere.  Print 'em out, add 'em to your blog/facebook, run around with them taped all over your body screaming, "I IS WINNER FOR REALLLLZ!!!"  Your call.

 

 

 

 Way to go, champ.   You deserve this.  

Also, I deserve this.  Wanna know how often I win?  Never.  Except that one time when I was a kid and I entered my name into a Radio Disney drawing at the grocery store and I won tickets to see a Jesse McCartney concert because the Radio Disney guys had to give them away before five and only two other kids entered the drawing.  Yeah.  That was awesome.

Updated: Many of you know that I heart The Bloggess more than I heart...a lot of things.  I don't know I can't come up with a comparison.  SUE ME....Please don't though.

Anyway, I was browsing through her blog archives today and stumbled upon this.  Which probably means we have some sort of psychic connection or that I stalk her in my sleep without knowing about it and it kind of freaks me out that we both made awards about bears and unicorns and they both were in the same line of thought which makes me think that maybe I am more like Jenny than I thought and that makes me get excited-faced.  Except her awards are INFINITELY better because she does this crap for a living.  That's excellence.  Anyway, I feel the need to award myself this: