It's surprising that I don't have more friends than I do.

Sometimes I sit in front of my computer for a while and it makes me say idiotic things.  These things manifest themselves in my Facebook statuses.  Oh, that sounded weird.  Facebook stati?  Statii?  Capitalization, maybe?

Facebook Statii.  Yeah, that looks about right.  Anyway, if you read all of these you will notice that I am a brat and also I think I'm incredibly clever.  Feel free to use any of these Statii, so long as you cite me and send me a royalty check every week or so.  I'm flexible.

Enjoy.  I will write a real post about how I suck at music, complete with fancy drawings. BEGIN!:


-I'm going to steal my neighbor's mail because I'm in a bad mood. But I'm not going to open it, because that would be a felony. Also, I'm going to return it 2-5 minutes later. Ha!

-I really enjoy being an insufferable know it all.

-I like to stand out in the rain. But not because I'm deep, more because I'm an idiot.
  
-Look, I don't judge, but you're entirely wrong. And I'm right. And also you're ugly. And you have weird hair.

-Hey, race car guy, I can hear you driving your race car outside my window in a suburb and I just want you to know that shut up.


-I wish facebook would tell me who is actually online. Or give me a million dollars. I'd be happy with either.
  
-Hey look at my status.
  
-The doctor says I'm going to live. Whatever, doctor. Clearly you've never had a migraine before.
  
-I wonder sometimes if my actions are actually consistent with my personality or if they're just a product of sleep deprivation.

-"Have you ever made anything happen, anything you couldn't explain?" 
"Well, my hair IS quite unruly..."
  
-I've spent the last hour trying to figure out where I can live without dying of poisonous animals. Apparently, no matter where I go I am going to be murdered by demon spiders. Also, Australia is a land of horrors. Never go there.
  
-Happy birthday, George Washington. And Abraham Lincoln. And Walker Texas Ranger. And also America.
  
-"Conceded" and "conceited" are not the same thing. You're welcome.
  
-Who else is going to Kid Cudi? I'm going, because I like to go to concerts when I don't know the words to any of the songs.
  
-A search that found my blog: "People legitimately don't like me" and I'm all OH HONEY. You must be in high school. I'm so sorry.

-"Your cute." 
...My...cute? My...WHAT?!?!

-Rain outside+watching that one scene from the Hunchback of Notre Dame where Esmerelda sings "God Help the Outcasts" in the cathedral=me sobbing uncontrollably. I'm embarrassing to myself.

-"Why aren't you wearing pants?"
"Why ARE you wearing pants?"

-I don't have insomnia, I just don't allow myself to go to sleep because I need to update my status regularly. Otherwise you wouldn't know all the details of my life. You're welcome.

 -My face hurts on the inside.

-...Everyone needs to stop getting engaged without telling me. You may get engaged if I am aware. OTHER THAN THAT, NO. I INSIST ON KNOWING ALL THE INTIMATE DETAILS OF YOUR LIFE.

 -Blogging means that you constantly get spam emails with this in the subject line: "MY HEART CHOOSEN TO BLESS YOU."

-AM I CLOGGING UP YOUR NEWSFEED YET??

-I have done absolutely nothing of any value today. I'm not sure if I'm overtly pleased with myself or if I'm experiencing self-loathing.

-Actually, I think my body is just rebelling. I imagine that it was all, "WTF is this, Megan? Seriously? MORE french fries? What about an apple every once in a while? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT AN APPLE IS? Could you maybe throw a couple vitamins my way occasionally? IDIOT."

-I really don't think I've been up this early since way back when I actually cared about being to time on school. So, like, the first three weeks of senior year.

-By this point I seriously doubt the existence of global warming, but if it will help Summer come any faster I will buy 300 aerosol cans of hairspray and empty them into the atmosphere myself.

-I'm going to go through and systematically like a bunch of three week old statuses. That way I can remind you all just how much of a creeper I really am.

-Sometimes I re-post a status I've already used if I think it needs reiterating.

-Sometimes I re-post a status I've already used if I think it needs reiterating.

-Playing Super Smash 64 with Ryan, who is playing as Captain Falcon.
Me: You are stupid.
Ryan: No, I'm CAPTAIN stupid.

-I love my momma, who happens to be in Hawaii getting tan and swimming with dolphins and, like, whatever else you do in Hawaii. Worship volcanoes? Yeah. My mom is worshiping volcanoes today. Happy Mother's Day!

-"Megan is a really awesome girl. -Aristotle"

-Hey guys. I just wanted to let you know that Osama Bin Laden is dead. You heard it here first.

-It's completely silent in my neighborhood. I don't think my neighbors read my status. I'm going to run up and down the street yelling "USA! USA!" and then set fire to an Osama-shaped pile of leaves. That ought to do it.

-Like my status and I'll tell you absolutely nothing of value. But I might tell you what time it is, so there's that incentive.

-I don't know half of you people.

 

Huh.   That was a lot of Statii.  Oh well, now you all know exactly what kind of a human being I am.  THAT.  I'm THAT kind of human being, guys. I'll post more Statii later.  MORE STATII, YOU SAY?  Yes.  More Statii.

 

Anonymous is back!

I received this LOVELY comment on this post (which I find strangely ironic.  It's like anonymous is going for the gold!)

"dude, f*** this blog. I Mean Everything about This blog sucks Hardcore And Nobody, no One, Likes you."

First of all, why is grammar such a big problem for this person?  It's getting predictable.  I don't know who Nobody is, or who One is, but I'm assuming they are people because I don't know why else they would be capitalized.  Unless this comment is a cleverly worded code.  It's like a game!  An insert-your-own-punctuation-marks-game!

"...dude, f*** this blog.  I.  Mean.  Everything about.  This blog sucks.  Hardcore.  And.  Nobody, no.  One,.  Likes you."

When you read it that way, it's much nicer.

Secondly, people like me.  My mom likes me.  My mom loves me.  So take that, anonymous.  I think we can both agree that you stand CORRECTED, my friend.

I'm assuming this is your response to my offer to hug you.  I'm sorry.  Maybe you don't like close personal contact. I can see that we're going to continue to have problems, you and I.  In the future, please send all complaints to my house handwritten on 4x6 colored cards.  Fuchsia is preferable, but not required.  If you can name all the countries in Africa, you get bonus points.  Can I borrow your pen?  I left mine in the car.

I love you, anonymous.  I love you so much.

This is why teachers never expect much out of me.

I go to Brigham Young University.  College!  I am the most collegial, college-esque, mature, college-er ever.  I go to school like it's my JOB.  I participate in class and I make comments and provoke thought regularly.  Occasionally (read: usually) I say something that makes my teacher make The Face.  You know.  The one where he/she internally debates whether something should be done about my behavior or whether we all should just collectively move on.  Usually it's followed by a head shake and classroom snickers.  Not the candy kind.  The laughing kind.

Below are a few examples of this.  My advice: do not do these things.  Although sometimes it makes your teacher love you.  But usually, no.  No it does not.

Example 1: The Time I Turned In A Two Page Essay About Velociraptors

In my very first college writing class, we were given an assignment to write as many words as we could about a topic.  Any topic.  The teacher actually told us to write about anything.  The only requirements were that we keep completely on topic and be clear about our topic. In addition, she promised a candy prize to the essay writer with the most words.  THIS IS THE FIRST SIGN OF NAIVETY.  Clearly, Prof. Larsen didn't know that I was in her class.  Most kids wrote about their hobbies or dance class or a historical event that would take up a lot of words easy-peasy.  I, however, felt a competitive fire burn in my veins and said to myself, "Hey, I know what will win and also make Professor Larsen love me.  DINOSAURS."

This is the result:

Megan Prietzel

Prof. Larsen

Writing and Rhetoric 150

10/25/10

Velociraptors and Why They are Really Cool But Should be Avoided at all Costs

            Velociraptors were a type of dinosaur that lived during the Cretaceous Period.  Velociraptors lived during the later part of the Cretaceous Period, and they were very, extremely, incredibly awesome.  There were two species of velociraptors that were discovered, but both of them were astonishing, so it doesn’t really matter.  Velociraptors were discovered because they left fossils, probably because when they were dying they were all “We’re really cool and humans need to know about us so we’re going to throw ourselves into mud and wait until it hardens around us so that our majesty can be preserved.”  Velociraptors would do that, because Velociraptors were just good dinosaurs like that.  Velociraptors also were smaller than depicted in Jurassic Park, but that’s okay because they were still super awesome to the infinitieth degree.  They were sometimes as small as a turkey, which probably means they were good at sneaking up on people and killing them, so basically velociraptors were the ninjas of the dinosaur world.  They were the terror of the other dinosaurs, and they would probably have killed the whole world, except they were too noble for that and decided to preserve their dead bones in fossils so that paleontologists could dig them up and stand in awe of their majesty and nobility and magnanimity.  Velociraptors were a species called a dromaeosaurid, and even though spell check says that that is not a word, it totally is, so shut up spell check.  Velociraptors had teeth that were a lot sharper on the back than on the front, and I’ll tell you why.  The reason for this was because Velociraptor teeth were specially designed to catch and hold prey, and the serration on the back of their chompers allowed velociraptors to efficiently kill things.  Velociraptors were killing machines, obviously.  Velociraptors had the serrated teeth because some prey was really fast, and since velociraptors were really fast, they could catch the fast wimpy dinosaurs and then the serration would kill them dead, so no matter how fast they were, they couldn’t escape.  Velociraptors had hands, y’all.  Velociraptors were extremely deadly in part because of their hands which had three insanely killer-ific claws that tore into prey.  Velociraptors used their second claw, which was the largest, to pierce the vital organs of the throats of weakling dinosaurs, including the carotid artery, trachea, and jugular vein, because velociraptors didn’t care if their prey was bleeding all over the place.  The velociraptor would hunt by embedding its claws into the throat of another dinosaur, and then biting the crap out of the rest of the prey’s poor and defenseless body.  Velociraptors also had talons of this sort on their feet, as if they needed any other awesome weapons.  Velociraptors used their feet to deliver fatal blows to lesser dinosaurs, which was every dinosaur besides velociraptors.  Velociraptors also had a long tail that was really good at helping them to balance, allowing velociraptors to run at incredibly fast, neck breaking speeds.  Velociraptors were so freaking awesome, it’s hard to accept.  Velociraptors also had feathers, and some people say that these feathers make velociraptors less awesome.  I would like to point out that velociraptors were actually MORE awesome because of these feathers.  Velociraptors could probably fly, although paleontologists and other science people say that they actually couldn’t and that the feathers were more like a jacket, but I don’t believe them and I’m pretty sure velociraptors could secretly fly AND stay warm at the same time.  Velociraptors could destroy all the scientists in the world if they were still alive, so if I were the scientists, I would go ahead and praise velociraptors as the most awesome ever because the velociraptors will probably figure out a way to time-travel and they will come into our reality and massacre us all in our sleep if we don’t recognize them as supreme overlords, JUST SAYING.  If velociraptors came into the world via time machine, scientists who doubted their abilities would be the first to go.  Velociraptors weren’t very smart, according to paleontologists, but obviously that is not true and the scientists had better shape up, John Travolta style.  Velociraptors will probably be benevolent overlords, but I doubt they will tolerate flagrant disrespect.  Velociraptors were still even more awesome than I have as of yet described, and I will tell you why.  The velociraptor was named for its awesome nature, and the word velociraptor is derived from the latin words “velox” and “raptor” which literally translates to “swift plunderer” or “robber” and that is probably one of the best names ever, even better than Mohawk Joe, which is a very good name.  Velociraptors were so cool that in Mongolia, a fossilized velociraptor was discovered locked in combat with a lone protoceratops, which was another dinosaur that no one has ever heard of because it was not as astonishing as the dreaded velociraptor.  The velociraptor was so incredible, in fact, that Mongolia totally freaked out when the fossilized battle of epic proportions was discovered and the country declared it a national treasure which makes the velociraptor Mongolia’s most precious thing ever. Velociraptors are similar in anatomy to adorable little birds called kiwis, so it’s safe to say that not only were velociraptors wreakers of havoc, but they were adorable wreakers of havoc.  Velociraptors were very cunning, thus supporting my theory that they will soon be here as time traveling mega-predators, so you really ought to learn how to protect yourself, in case they decide to kill you.  If a velociraptor decides to make you dead, you probably don’t stand much of a chance, but if we all band together, there is probably a safe way to defend yourself from velociraptors.  Dying by velociraptor would be extremely painful and agonizing, so it would be a good thing to avoid.  If you don’t want to die by velociraptor, you must master every martial art available.  To avoid getting killed by these agile hunters, one must follow some simple steps.  In order to remember the way to not die, I have created a simple mnemonic in order to make these steps easier to remember.  To not die, remember ROY G BIV, which stands for Run Or Yell Greatly Blue Indigo Violet.  As you can see, not dying is highly dependent on how greatly you can run or yell.  Try really hard not to die, also run and yell as loudly and fast as you possibly can, and then the velociraptors will get bored with your pathetic and feeble attempts at life and will probably return to the Cretaceous period where things are awesome. 

The outcome:  I won the contest.  No one got my Dan Bergstein reference.  I used the word "velociraptor" an obscene amount of times, if that's even possible. My teacher had already awarded the prize to someone else since I was late but I didn't care because my victory was so obvious so she got me another prize.  She appeared confused, but also slightly amused.  Little did she know.  Oh, how little did she know.

Example 2: The Time I Tried To Use Methamphetamine As An Example In A Grammar Lesson.

We were all sitting in Prof. Larsen's class learning about grammar.  That is to say, we were "reviewing" grammar, which meant learning it because we were all really bad at remembering high school.  I'm not quite sure what principle of grammar was being discussed, but the teacher was trying to get us to participate in class by supplying our own sentences to be discussed.

Prof. Larsen: It was a lovely...

Student: Day!

(Grammatical discussion)

Prof Larsen: Unfortunately, it was time...

Student: To go home!

(Grammatical discussion)

Prof. Larsen: She sat quietly...

Student: in church!

(Grammatical discussion)

Prof. Larsen: The air shimmered with...

Me: METH FUMES!!!

(Awkward moment of silence)

The outcome: Grammatical discussion didn't ensue.  Rather, the class burst into laughter and poor Professor Larsen shook her head, wondering what was happening to the rising generation. I didn't MEAN to say it.  IT JUST SEEMED SO REASONABLE AT THE TIME.

Example 3: The Time That This Was Our Final Project

We had to make a video.  About food.  HERE IT IS. (Note that Rae played the role of "prestigious medical expert.")

Outcome: Exactly what you'd expect.  We did not get the A that we so CLEARLY deserved.

I have no words for this.

I wasn't planning on posting today, but...well, you'll see.

Blogger lets me see what people search for in Google when they stumble across my blog.  I was idly checking those stats today.

Really?  Right in between the sexy dream team??

...You guys I have no words.  I can't decide whether this is hilarious or slightly disturbing.  I'm going to go with both.

You guys are just too much.

Sometimes I'm accidently funny without meaning to be. Also, sometimes I spell accidently as "accidentally" because I suck.

Updated:  Apparently it really is spelled "accidentally" and I've been right all along.  So it's kind of like my failure is a success, if you think about it.

I actually was planning on writing a very long illustrated post today, but a friend of mine brought something else to my attention.  Also, I've been working for hours upon hours on a special project for SparkLife, and when you see it you will be all, "THAT took you hours upon hours?" and I will say, "DUDE do you know how long it took me to draw four bears?  DO YOU EVEN KNOW ME?" and then I will indisputably win the argument and you will bask in my glory or whatever.

Anyway, my friend texted me a very long text but mostly what stuck out to me was something that a lot of people have asked me: "How are you so funny?"  He actually worded it differently, but the concept is the same.  And it's a question that a lot of people have emailed me about, and a lot of times they are looking for tips to help them excel at comedy.  So, how am I funny?

Well there's an easy answer to that.  I have no freaking idea.

To be completely honest, I don't think I'm funny at all.  If real life is any indication, I'm just an instigator of awkward conversations.  In actual every day situations my humor falls flat all the time and that's assuming I even know what to talk about to begin with because more than half of my life is spent like this:

Usually when this happens (EVERY DAY) I just run away as quickly as possible and retreat to my dorm room.  I'm still trying to figure out how to be socially acceptable as a human being, but so far most of my attempts at humor and conversation have been so painfully futile, I just don't say anything.  Or I'll go through this really horrible process in which my brain starts grinding against itself and my vocal chords issue forth a horrible buzzing sound.  Inside my head I'm all, "I need to say something.  I'm going to say something about zombies.  But wait!  Previous experience has taught me that talking about zombies is not successful.  What do I talk about, then?  Um, I could talk about how much I hate cheese.  But most people like cheese.  What if he thinks I'm a freak because I don't like cheese?  WHAT DO I DO!?  Oh no.  It's been like 2 minutes.  I should say something.  He's probably offended.  But if I say something now, he'll think I'm an idiot.  Wait, what did he ask me?  I don't know.  Something about zombie cheese.  Ew, gross.  But...in a cool way.  I would totally like zombie cheese.  Not to eat, but just to look at for a minute."  And then by the time I formulate an acceptable answer, my conversational partner is gone and by then my brain is trying to bash it's way out of my idiotic skull anyway so it doesn't really matter.

But here, on the magical world of the internet, I have found that everything is wonderful and full of love and happiness and puppies and puppy-ness.  And videos of cats in boxes!  And EVERYONE likes zombies!  And suddenly, I'm funny.  But I haven't ever been funny before.  That's why I'm at a total loss as to answering your questions, see?  People ask how to be funny or how to make their blogs funny and I'm just all "Uuuuuummmmm......" and then I start giggling nervously and talking about spaceships because I'm scared that my secret will be revealed and everyone will realize that I'm not funny at all.  So here are my comedy tips: 

1.  Be funny.

2.  Don't be not funny.

3.  When in doubt, draw a really terrible picture of yourself.

4.  When that doesn't work, wallow in self-pity.

5.  Mention glitter as often as possible.  Also, think about dinosaurs a lot.

6.  Be mildly offensive.

7.  Draw more things.

8.  Read blogs that you think are funny and try to draw some inspiration.

9.  Be pretentious and immature.

10.  Eat debilitating amounts of junk food.

...And that's about it.  That's all I've got so far.  I'm learning, brothers and sisters.  Thank you for liking me, because I certainly like you back.  Let's be together forever.

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.

Ice factory

Hello there, I'm Megan Prietzel, founder and president of Megan's Crazy Ice Factory.  Do you want a fulfilling job in a booming business market?  Do you like cold beverages?  Do you hate heat stroke?  Then, boy, do I have an offer for you!

Simply come on down to Megan's Crazy Ice Factory and apply for a job today!  Here at Megan's Crazy Ice Factory, we have a variety of FANTASTIC careers for you to choose from.

Ice Magician
Ice Magicians (Patent Pending) are where the "magic" really starts to happen!  (You see what I did there?  Lolz, I'm the funniest boss in the ever.)  As an Ice Magician (Patent Pending) you'll create scrumptious ice cubes using Water (Patent Pending).  It will be your responsibility to pour our (almost) patented Water into special trays.  This is where the whole process begins!

If the end result doesn't taste good, we'll fire and decapitate you!  Haha! 

Water Stirrer
As a Water Stirrer (patent pending) you will hold a large wooden spoon and stir water ALL DAY LONG.  This process ensures that the Water is stirred!

Water Safety Expert
Our factory is absolutely FULL of radiation emitted from our nuclear generator, which I think is leaking.  However, our Water Safety Experts are on the clock 24 hours a day, pouring ammonia and bleach into all of our Water in order to ensure consumer safety!  Water Safety Experts also add lots and lots of different ingredients and flavors to the Water in order to ensure that costumers never ever figure out that they're ingesting chemicals!  LOL!

Elephant Checker
Elephants are not allowed in our Ice Cubes!  Elephant Checkers use state of the art elephant detecting technology to search for and remove any stray elephants from any of our ingredients!  Elephant Checkers also clean the factory, so that we don't have to hire a janitor.

Freezer

Ice Taste Tester
We take quality very seriously here at Megan's Crazy Ice Factory.  That's why we hire fully trained Ice Taste Testers.  As a new recruit, you will attend a fifteen minute training session with me, Megan Prietzel of Megan's Crazy Ice Factory, where I, Megan Prietzel of Megan's Crazy Ice Factory, will instruct you on the fine art of Ice Taste Testing.  After a rigorous but super fun training experience, you will be locked in a room with nothing but a huge freezer and a conveyor belt, which will deliver freshly made Crazy Ice Cubes (patent pending) for you to taste!

Our taste testing motto is, "Once you taste it, you sure can't waste it!" so after determining the Yummy Factor (patent pending) of each individual ice cube, you'll package the delicious chunks of frozen yum and send them to our Quality Assurance Center.

Quality Assurance Center-ist
Quality is important to us here at Megan's Crazy Ice Factory.  That's why we hire dozens and dozens of Quality Assurance Center-ists to lick each and every ice cube at least seven times, checking for taste, smell, color, elephants, and taste.  Also, color.  We check for that too.  At Megan's Crazy Ice Factory, we like to shoot for "Quality" which stands for "Quietly Utilize A Licking Ice Taster, Yes!"  This motto reminds our employees to lick EVERY ice cube until each and every cube is coated in a layer of saliva!

Packaging Drone
As a member of our packaging staff, you (patent pending) will be responsible for (patent pending) stuffing the Crazy Ice Cubes (patent pending) into plastic (patent pending) bags and shipping them to a third world country, where the Cubes will be properly packaged, and then sent back to our factory!

Delivery Expert
You get to drive a truck!  Yaaaay!  Vroom vroom!

Minion
Must come to factory to apply.  Must have little to no tendency for remorse, ability to operate heavy machinery, and knowledge of underground tunnel systems worldwide.




Convinced yet?  As a member of our award wining staff* you will have the opportunity to produce award winning ice** to be distributed to your very own neighborhood market!  All employees receive a benefit package including: ten dollars towards dental insurance each year, 30 minutes of vacation time for every 6 years of work at the factory, an invisible and intangible unicorn, a year's worth of free breathing privileges and oxygen in the factory,  and a 0.00000001% discount on all Crazy Ice products!  Now that's an offer you just can't refuse!


And remember, look for Megan's Crazy Ice at your local grocery store for only $15.99 per cube!

"Only $15.99?!  THAT'S CRAZY!!"

That's not crazy, that's just how we do business here at Megan's Crazy Ice Factory.


*Winner of the Megan Prietzel award for "Awesomest Staff, Like, Ever."
**Winner of the Megan Prietzel award for "THAT'S SOME TASTY ICE."

Pants with a polar bear

There are three easily recognizable classes of pants.

First, comfortable pants.

Comfortable pants are usually sweatpants, but they can also be a pair of old jeans.  They inhibit your movement only minimally.  They allow you to sit without exposing your butt crack.  They feel almost as good as not wearing pants, except nothing feels as good as not wearing pants.  However, if you have to wear pants, comfortable ones are the best option.

Comfortable pants will never let you down, especially when you leave the house wearing them because people will think you are a hobo and will give you leftover sandwiches.

Polar bears are awesome.


The second class of pants are stylish pants.

These pants generally have rips, tears, fading, and other signs of wear.  These damages are intended to make you look attractive.  You may think that these pants will garner you free leftover sandwiches.  You are mistaken.  Stylish pants often have strange and shiny logos emblazoned directly on the butt pockets so that each rump-cheek glistens with rhinestones and advertising.  These pants will, in no particular order: suffocate you, rip in the crotch at any sudden movement, disallow you from running away from pursuers, prove extremely difficult both to insert your body into and to remove from your body, and make bare your butt crack for all the world to see.  They will also situate around your pelvic area in a way that will cause your girth to overflow out of them like a waterfall of fat, no matter how skinny you are.  If you are not skinny, they will eventually cut off your blood circulation, and you will die.

These pants sometimes make you feel sexy fine, but usually they just make your legs go numb.  They are often accessorized with other stylish, similarly impractical items.

The third class: trendy (for some reason) pants.

"Trendy" pants are puzzling in that they are invariably hideous and clearly unfit for anything other than stockpiling extra fabric for sewing together a sail in case of abandonment in an ocean.  The "invariably hideous" factor is key to trendy pants, because whether they be checkered, tie-dyed, a blinding shade of neon, or these monstrosities, this category of pants causes the wearer shame in future years.

Overalls don't count as pants, and polar bears are still awesome.

Greeting cards for people who don't really like greeting cards

I like to look at the greeting cards whenever I go to the store.  Sometimes the cards are funny.  Sometimes they're sweet.  But I often wonder why card makers aren't catering to the greater needs of the people.  The people being me.

Have you ever wanted to say something just right, but you couldn't find a card that could express your feelings accurately?  Well I'm about to solve your problem.

You're welcome.

Suck it, normal cards.

This is why I never reply. Ever. Except for my own amusement.

I don't really like checking my email. I think email is very important, I wouldn't be able to function without it, but I have this problem. It goes like this.

First, I do something. It's always something seemingly harmless. I apply for something important. I email a person who I'd like to talk to. I sign up for the hourly official penguin newsletter. All normal, healthy investments of time. Then, I frolic about, thinking to myself "I can internet! I have this interneting thing in the bag! I'm inter-lectual!" My day continues on as normal. I read a few favorite blogs, I drink a few glasses of water, I try to incorporate the word "perspicacious" into everyday conversation, I make a few awkward and inappropriate comments on various Facebook walls...you know, just stuffz. By the time I go to bed at night I'm thinking "Email, you made my day awesome. I'm going to make an 'I HEART EMAIL' shirt. I'm going to wear it to the mall. Everyone will be jealous. Goodnight, email."

Oh, email. I love you, email.

The next day, I ignore email. It's wrong. It's insensitive. But I don't even think about email. I just look up pictures of cats and eat pizza.

Pretty soon, a few days have passed. I think to myself "I should check that one thing" but I don't actually follow through on that impression. I kind of get sidetracked. Of course, being me, a few more days go by. Suddenly, I haven't checked that email thing in several weeks. All of my important applications, all of my conversations, all of my hourly newsletters...suddenly, they evoke a strange feeling in me. The word "hourly" gives me a weird cringy feeling deep within my being. What made me think I could handle an hourly newsletter? Penguins? What?! I don't even LIKE penguins! They're creepy, and they live in the cold, and nothing should be that adorable!

I get this odd sensation. Not quite guilt. Not quite apprehension. I call it "crap, I bet when I check my email, I'll have things I need to do. THINGS."



Inbox: 256 messages

From: spammyspam@isuck.scam Subject: EARN 328974kajillion dollars!@
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Breeding patterns of penguins
From: personwhoknowsme@yay.com Subject: ...Are you dead? email me back.
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: An Egg-tastic ice-capade!
From: importantcollegestuff@filloutthisform.com Subject: Yo, do this or you out, girl.
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Solving the flight crisis
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Penguin feather fashion 101
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Penguincide-we care
From: emailservice@mailymailmail.com Subject: Upgrade your inbox, fool.
From: emailservice@mailymailmail.com Subject: ...Um...there IS a delete button
From: taylorlautner@hotsexybody.com Subject: Hey, answer in ten and come chill!

Page: 1 Skip to page: 1, 2, 3, 4...23



I look at this and I cringe. So...read the email. Right. This is the point where my enhanced endurance kicks in and I'm all "alright email. Let's do this."


Spam: deleted!
Penguins: breeding, educated about!
Friend: ignored out of embarrassment!
Penguins: so cute!
College: form completed!
Penguins: flight crisis, noted!
Penguins: fashion forward!
Penguins: dead!
Email service: ignored!
Email service: double ignored!
Taylor Lautner: WAHHHAHAHIEONG!

Man, I am on a roll. That only took me twenty minutes! Awesome! I am a capable person! I am educated about penguin affairs! I am ready to take on the....wait...how many more pages? Um...well...gee. One page of email has been taken care of...I think that's pretty good. In fact, I'm hungry. Can't check email on an empty stomach, now, can I? And off I go to make dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets.

The next day, being all email-conscientious and whatnot, I decide to apply for some things, subscribe to another newsletter about current events, and you know what? Hey, Facebook, is there a way to be notified by email whenever anyone does anything on you that vaguely affects me? There is? Well heck, sign me up!

Days pass, weeks pass, and one day, I get that feeling again...that "awwww man. EMAIL." feeling.

Click, click, click...SHOOTDANG, YOU'RE KIDDING ME.


Inbox: 638 messages

From: currentstuff@probablytragic.com Subject: Obscure president assassinated-act now!
From: application@appsareus.com Subject: Maybe you want to apply for this too
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Krill is good for eating!
From: scamerificspam@virus.usuck Subject: FREE UNICORN!!!!
From: facebook@socialnetworking.net Subject: This person just said this thing about you
From: caringfriend@thoughtful.com Subject: Worried about you. Speak to me.
From: currentstuff@probablytragic.com Subject: Massive explosion-sign explosion petition!
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: A penguin Hanukkah
From: facebook@socialnetworking.net Subject: This may have something to do with you.
From: collegestuff@gotoschool.com Subject: Expensive books that you need to have
From: currentstuff@probablytragic.com Subject: Iranian babies fed bad milk. ZOMG!

Page:1 Skip to page: 1, 2, 3, 4...58

......but.....but.....

Whaaaaa?

I stare at the computer screen for a moment, daunted by the immense task ahead of me. I curse myself for not having finished my email-management several weeks ago. I question my need for penguin news. I promptly decide that I require penguin news in order to live. Sighing, I gather up all the vestiges of focus floating around in my body and attack with surprising relish.


Current events: president, cared about!
Application: heck yes, I want to apply for that!
Penguins: krill, a good diet indeed!
Unicorn: virus, attained!
Facebook: oh no she didn't!
Friend: assurances, offered!
Current events: explosion, oh noes!
Penguins: culture, accepted!
Facebook: does not relate to me at all!
College: books, ordered!
Current events: NOT THE BABIES!!

And like a coiled viper, she strikes! On to page 2! You hear that, email? Take that! We are no longer friends, and look at me kick your butt. Bet you didn't see that one coming, eh, email? Bet you're shaking in your emaily-boots. Bet you're calling your email mommy and--Hey I'm hungry. Can't check email on an empty stomach, right? Past experience has taught me that much. Well! Chicken nuggets, ahoy!

And the next morning, I think to myself "Hey, I should probably get more email stuff going here! Newsletters!! I bet there's a newsletter about pharmaceutical malpractice! Yay!" and I DO IT. I SIGN UP. BECAUSE I'M A FOOL. Eventually this whole process degenerates into guilt and denial. I don't email people back because I'm scared of reminding them that they emailed me to begin with, and also that would remind them that I have a level of responsibility comparable to a five-year-old boy who refuses to bathe. I pretend that my email isn't a problem. I grieve over that ever-growing pile of data, filling a tiny corner of the internet with useless junk that even I don't care about enough to read. At this point, I have two correspondences that I actually keep track of, one being an important person out of state, the other, an important person out of the country. I brace myself on appointed days when I know they will email, and dive into the sea of endless crap, typing and clicking as fast as my brain and dexterity will allow.

At this point, I even dread opening my email inbox. It taunts me. One day, one glorious day, I shall vanquish this foe. Until then, I'll probably just keep surfing the internet aimlessly, signing up for newsletters that pertain to absolutely nothing I want to know anything about. Kind of like this blog. Suck it, emailz.

Twilight: I'm gonna do you a favor, and you can just read this instead.

Skipping the preface, cause it's crap. Basically Bella's all "Aaah! I'm gonna die and stuff!"

Anyway. So Bella Swan is this chick and she's totally not pretty, except she really is, she just thinks she isn't pretty, you know? Bella is also really awkward and clumsy, but it's stinkin' adorable. So anyway, she moves from Alaska or Argentina or something (I forget) and she's all bummed because her mom married a baseball player guy. It's really sad. But it's okay because her dad buys her a truck! And she really likes the truck, even though it's, like, ugly and stuff. It's red.

Okay so fast forward to the next day, Bella has to go to school and she's embarrassed cause her truck is TOTALLY loud. But it's okay because all the other cars are really ugly except for this really shiny Volvo car, and that's cool because a Volvo isn't even that great. So yeah, the truck totally still rocks. So then Bella goes inside and there's some dumb stuff with people or whatever, and this Mike kid really likes her, but then Bella sees this guy named Edward. Bella is really cute because she's so awkward and clumsy.

Edward is really dreamy sexy hot. Bella talks about it all the time, and he has glittering gold eyes that probably ooze unicorns, but Bella never mentions that. I bet it's true though. Bella can be so unobservant. Also, she's awkward, and pretty clumsy.

Edward doesn't really like Bella at first, because she smells YUMTASTIC and he wants to eat her. Because, guess what? This is the best part. You know dreamy sexy hot Edward? Well, surprise twist, he's a VAMPIRE! Only don't worry, he only drinks animal blood instead of human blood and for some reason that makes his eyes sexy hot gold instead of red. Because that makes sense. It's not confusing at all that the type of blood ingested correlates to eye color. I like to drink baby dolphin blood, and that's why my eyes are hazel. So anyway, Edward. He's also very graceful and stuff cause of his vampire powers, which is in direct opposition to Bella, cause she's really awkward. She's also incredibly clumsy.

Oh yeah, bad vampires have red eyes. It's not really important, but that's okay, it is because Edward and Bella are TOTALLY IN LOVE so shut up.

Anyway, so Edward saves Bella from a car that almost squashes her. Then Bella goes to Port Angeles with her friends, and she gets all lost looking for a book store (Bella is really smart, so she needs new books because she's, like...way smart and stuff and she's so DARN CUTE with her awkward clumsiness) and so since she's so freakin' pretty, some guys are all "AAH HEY WE'RE GONNA RAPE YOU!" except they never say that, but it's implied, although it could just be that they need directions to Walmart or the pet store.

So yeah, Edward shows up in his shiny Volvo, and he's really mad about those guys because HE CAN READ THEIR THOUGHTS. Which is cool, and also totally makes sense. But he can't read Bella's thoughts. Because that also makes sense.

So they go to this restaurant and Bella eats and there's a hot waitress and also something with ravioli. I didn't really pay attention at this part. But I think Edward didn't even care about the hot waitress, because that darn Bella is so endearing with her clumsiness. SHE'S AWKWARD. They talk about how Edward is a vampire, and he's all "Bleh! I'm a monster!" and Bella's all "whatever, dude" so that's good because Bella is just SO DANG unique, and because of that she isn't scared.

Then some stuff happens, there's baseball and thunder, because vampires like to play in thunderstorms or whatever. Also, Rosalie doesn't like Bella. Bella also acts clumsy and awkward, and all the boys think it's way hot. And that's about all that goes down, except that Edward and Bella fall mad-hot in love and they stare at each other in the eyes in a magical meadow. So yeah this part was really boring, and it talked a lot about innocence. And lambs. For some reason.

Then they're playing baseball, and these three bad vampires (you can tell because they have red eyes. Told you it was important) they show up and James is all "I'm totes gonna eat Bella!" and everyone's scared and stuff, because delicate Bella is really clumsy and can't defend herself. Then James beats Bella up in a dance studio, and bites her, but it's okay cause he dies, except we don't get to see him die, we just get to listen to Bella complain about being in pain and I'm all "BELLA you're so selfish and awkward! Why are you so clumsy? Why don't you pay more attention to the cool parts, like vampire dismemberment and death?!" So Edward, who is, like, crack-addicted to Bella's blood, somehow sucks all the venom out of her blood and doesn't kill her. Somehow. I'm sure there's an explanation for why that makes sense. ...Look, he's hot!

So Bella goes to the hospital, and then she goes to prom, and she's really awkward and clumsy. Did I mention that she's awkward and clumsy? It's really cute and endearing.

Bella wants to turn into a vampire at prom because she's an idiot and is all "YEAH MAKE ME HOT AND SPARKLY AND HAVE UNICORN-GOLD EYES!" and she's 17, so she's kind of predisposed to be an idiot. But since she's so vulnerable and cute, it's okay.

And that's the gist of Twilight. It is very romantic and action packed, if you like the sort of action that involves driving kind of fast and talking about innocence. And who doesn't?

Back by popular demand. Meaning one person kind of mentioned in passing that I don't post enough. People are so pushy.

Today was yearbook day and if there is anything more awkward on the face of the planet (other than myself) I'd like to know. I really, really suck at yearbook-ing, the verb. Yearbook day pretty much goes like this:

I get my yearbook. I write my name in it. I walk over to several people that I sort of like and I'm all "hey, sign my yearbook" and they do and I'm all great, I can leave. Then someone yells at me like "OMG MEGAN WE WERE BFF IN HIGH SCHOOL LIKE SIGN MY YEARBOOK!K#!!@" And I kind of just nod and think to myself "well, yes there was that one time that we did have a semi-conversation, so okay. I'll sign it." And then there are some people that I haven't talked to since freshman year that one time when we sat next to each other in some class when we had to speak to each other out of necessity. And they run up to me and are all "AAAHGHH SIGN!" And I do. And I look at their note. And it's all "Spanish was like soooo funny! That one time was hilarious! Scuba diving! hahaha inside joke!! Well, good luck in the future, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! KEEP IN TOUCH I'M SO GLAD WE'RE FRIENDS" And my note was all "You're cool, have a nice life." And then I feel like a jerk, because not only did I write a horrible note, but I also stood there for like ten minutes twiddling my thumbs because my note took .89 seconds to write, and this person is cross-legged on the floor, giggling and scribbling a novel. And I wonder whether I should pick their book back up and write more, or if that would look like I'm trying too hard...and I'm all "screw it, I'm already a jerk anyways" and then I turn around and yell obscenities at the nearest small child.

I was looking at my dad's old yearbook, and it's full of inside jokes and "let's stay friends forever!"'s and wanna know how many of those people ol' Ben-Jammin' still knows? None. Not a single one. Seriously. People are such flakes. What jerks. (I'll probably be the biggest jerk, in the future. I'll also own an army of robots and several Subway chains. I don't like Subway, but I've heard other people do, and I'm such a people pleaser. All I want is to spread happiness, and be a jerk.)

Oh! Also, I have a new thing that lets you interact with me in strange ways. www.formspring.me/megansquared6 is a page where you can ask me awkward, anonymous questions, and I have to answer or my face will explode. Not really, but I'll answer as if my facial structure depended upon it. Questions like this:

Featured question: If you could fondle anyone's knee pit, whose would it be?

My answer: Well, assuming fictional characters are off-limits, probably Mark Macey's, because he would probably enjoy a good knee pit fondling. Or maybe he'd rather fondle my knee pit. I'm not really sure, but it could turn into a knee pit fondling extravaganza. Maybe I should just advertise free knee pit fondling, because I think maybe I could charge a dollar per fondle. That way, I wouldn't have to choose, because I could fondle all day long. If it were a fictional character, probably Frodo Baggins because I'm kind of curious about hobbit knee pits. Are they like a hairy child's knee pits? Probably, except more hardy.
...What was the question?



If you don't know who Mark Macey is, then this wasn't funny to you. But...just trust me when I say that if you knew Mark Macey, you'd want to fondle his knee pit, too.




This is an advertisement that I created for my Journalism class. I used a technique I like to call "pancakes sell" in which I incorporate my secret advertisement weapon. (Hint: the weapon is a stack of pancakes.) Let me know if you'd like me to create one for your small business/social movement/personal entertainment. Better place your order soon, I expect the demand to be high.

I'm surprised she still talks to me, but not really because who wouldn't want to be friends with a super hero? Exactly.

Spring Break means everyone is out of town for a week, including my friend Morgan. While she's having a grand ole' time in California, I'm in ...West Jordan...AWESOME.

(Arguably Morgan might not be having an awesome time because of the earthquake, but ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? An earthquake would be super awesome. As long as I didn't die. Or lose a limb. Fingers are okay, though.)



Morgan: So what are you up to today?

Megan: Well nothing that is too interesting.

Megan: I might make some potstickers.

Megan: Maybe I'll give the dogs a bath.

Megan: Unless disaster befalls the city, in which case I'll put on my supersuit and save the word.

Megan: ....world.

Megan: Not word...

Megan: Although I could save a word, if the need arised.

Megan: Arose?

Megan: Arose.

Megan: Arised isn't a word.

Megan: ZOMG I'M GOING TO SAVE THE WORD ARISED.

Morgan: ok.

Megan: ...don't judge me.



I imagine she read that a couple of times, shaking her head and wondering how much sleep I got last night.

The answer? NONE.



Updated: Be aware, because this is probably going to be me.

I don't know why I haven't been elected yet

For my U.S. Government class, we went to the Utah State Capitol, which I'm pretty sure is a Capitol as opposed to a Capital. Although it has Capitals in it. I could be wrong, it's just never happened before.

So anyway, I thought that maybe this would be my opportunity to seize the power that should, by all rights, be mine. I figured it wouldn't be too hard to slip myself into some bill as the "Supreme Dictator of the State of Utah," but guess what guys, there are RAILS (LIKE SAFETY RAILS) AROUND THE BILL VOTING AREA. I think those areas are called the Senate and the House. Whatever.  But seriously, it's like they don't want me to write myself into a bill as a dictator.

I had to compensate somehow, so I entertained myself by having my friend Michael take pictures of me sitting in places I wasn't allowed in. Also, there were sombreros involved. And I met a guy who works for a news station, and we're now BFF's. So, yeah, I'm kind of important, almost better than the Supreme Dictator of the State of Utah.

At one point, Michael said he'd pay me a dollar if I ran away from our tour guide and up the stairs to touch the Senate door. Which I did, and I still don't have my dollar. And the teacher watched me run all the way up the stairs like "oh no, here we go," and it was awesome.


This is me sitting on a table I wasn't supposed to be sitting on. The tour guide caught me and gave me a sour look. Apparently we were in the governor's office. The governor really needs more comfortable tables.


This is me climbing on a pillar I wasn't supposed to be climbing on but the tour guide wasn't very tall or loud so I couldn't see her or hear her, so really, this is me trying to be a good student. It's not my fault if I have to climb on forbidden pillars in order to learn.


This is me sitting on a very fancy chair at the head of a very fancy table in a very fancy reception room reserved for special guests because all this fancy furniture is very expensive.

My favorite part were the golden cherubs decorating the ceiling. See, I thought cherubs were tacky, but since they're in the Utah State Capitol, I guess cherubs are alright by me. If I ever live in a mansion, I'm going to commission a dozen golden cherub ceilings. Cherubs for everyone!

Anyway, I wasn't supposed to be sitting in this chair, but I sneaked onto it after the guide turned away and Michael was just about to take a picture when some kid was all "HEY is she allowed to do that??" and I almost punched him in the mouth with my brain. But I didn't, because the Jedi believe in peace. So the tour guide sort of got this horrified look on her face and didn't say anything for a very tense moment. Then she was all "Um...I guess..." but I think since it was already too late, she realized she had no choice. Or perhaps the tour guide understood that the powers of the force aren't to be trifled with. She needs to have a serious conversation with the kid who tried to get me in trouble.


After that incident, I think I did pretty well, behavior-wise. At one point I saw a bunch of people in sombreros and I was all "...Michael...I really want a picture with them."  The above picture is photographic evidence that sombreros were in fact involved in my visit.

I don't really know what the sombrero people were doing at the Utah State Capitol. They probably heard about the cherubs.


The capitol was swarming with reporters and cameras and stuff but I didn't really notice until Michael was all "Want a picture with a news guy?" and I was all "DO I?!?!" which means yes. So I sidled up next to this guy, who had a lovely purple tie. Michael asked if he could take a picture of us together, and the guy was all "Um...really?" and because I'm brilliant, my witty reply was "Yes. I like your purple tie." At that point, purple-tie-man just sort of stared at me and said "Okay I guess." But not in a rude way. More of like in a "this-strange-girl-just-showed-up-beside-me-and-wants-a-picture-with-my-tie" kind of way. Actually, he was very nice and gave us his full attention. So purple-tie-man and I kind of awkwardly smiled and Michael snapped a picture and then the purple-tie-man shook my hand and said "I'm Rich, by the way" and apparently Rich is really Richard Piatt who works for KSL news. So, yeah, that's me rubbing shoulders with important people, guys. And if you go here you can read his bio on KSL's website, where he hasn't mentioned me, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

Behind me there's a press conference going on. I can only assume that all those people were there because they'd heard I'd be at the capitol trying to assert myself as Supreme Dictator of the State of Utah. Unfortunately, my tour guide, teacher, and fellow classmates weren't of the same opinion, so I never went and made my prepared speech. It was a disappointment to the entire news community. Sorry, Rich. I tried, buddy.

On the bus ride back, I happened to be sitting next to the emergency escape door, and did you know that when you open that thing an alarm goes off? Cause I didn't. Michael made me do it.