Meg Swan: We met at Starbucks. Not at the same Starbucks but we saw each other at different Starbucks across the street from each other.

Where to begin, where to begin.... Let's start with the picture above. If you haven't seen Best in Show, go out right now and rent it. shame on you! If you have you will understand this first of two short blogs rolled into one medium size blog for you enjoyment. A two for one of sorts. Ok so back to the lovely couple above the Swans. I spent Sunday afternoon with the real life Swans. I worked for Fox Atomic this weekend a friend of mine is a rep for them at the "flea-less market" oh yes they are so clever with the pun, as it was held at Stay (a dog hotel nicer than some places I stayed in Europe). Its a flea market for... wait for it wait for it.... dogs. Yes dogs, and it brought in the best of the crazy dog lovers with it. I was promoting a family film "Fire House Dog" in a shirt made for a kindergartner (not kidding it was a youth shirt) along side my dear friend Katie. We actually were having a decent time, chit chatting giving little kids stickers and posters. Then around 2:00 it was like they let the loons out of the bin. First up weird guy with smelly dog (we will call him Frank). Frank was way to interested in the kids film, and kind of the kids themselves, creepy. He dog also smelled like death. Next up the Dog psychic from across the way, I was calling her the dog whisperer. She charged 20 bucks for 15 minutes of bullshit, I admire her business model, I am going to pretend like I hear cats, and charge 35 bucks. She asked us how we thought the dog felt during the filming, did he seem upset and insecure, she is getting the vibe from the preview.... It continued when miss 49th ward shows up and starts a lil' protest in front of our booth saying we harm animals, and then trying to sell us some Mosaic of a terrier. Was it worth the $50.00 hanging with the crazies, honestly I would have done it for free it was that entertaining.

The other thing on my mind this weekend was Grad School. I am scared of the GRE, mostly because I still feel like a second grader in a 9th grade math class. I know I need to grow up and just take it but that's the beauty of the true procrastinator that I am. I actually am procrastinating my procrastination plan. That's a mind f**k huh! Maybe I should go see the dog whisperer about it. Anywho my good friend sent me the above picture. I loved it. I bought a GRE book. I haven't opened it. But hey baby steps people baby steps.

The Wonder Years

-The Wonder Years-
"Things never turn out exactly the way you planned. I know they didn't with me. Still, like my father used to say, 'Traffic's traffic, you go where life takes you' and growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next you're gone, but the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a time a place, a particular fourth of July, the things that happened in that decade of war and change. I remember a house like a lot of houses, a yard like a lot of yards, on a street like a lot of other streets. I remember how hard it was growing up among people and places I loved. Most of all, I remember how hard it was to leave. And the thing is, after all these years I still look back in wonder."

God I loved that show, still do. I feel like it would be amazing to have the ability to look over your life and narrate how you felt in the moment, how you feel now and contemplate on that amazing time in your life. I have been on a kick (literally) of thinking about my childhood mostly because I am starting a Kickball team. Yes, a kickball team, the great elementary school past-time. In Chicago these days kickball and dodge ball (previous to the movie) have made a comeback in an adult form. We for example are a bunch of 23 + year olds getting pumped in our cubicles for the big game against team schwetty balls.

After my 33rd email yesterday concerning the formation of our kickball team, I started to reflect on my childhood. I started having my own Kevin Arnold monologue playing over my childhood memories. I really makes me want to take some of our old home movies and do something with them. New project for the summer perhaps.

I have so many exceptional memories: Gretel the lunch lady from Germany with the big boobs and love of squishing you in them to sing you happy birthday in front of the whole school. Growing up on 71st terr. the best kid street ever. Where big wheels and wagons rules the street and where it was safe to run around the neighborhood all day with out a fear of being kidnapped. My first kiss behind the press box at Rockhurst College in the 5th grade. Or even the countless times I "ran away", one of which we have running commentary on thanks to Mr. Aldrich and the huge video camera we captured our lives on. A little taste of the video:

Mr. Aldrich: What are you doing beth?
Me (Age 4): Running away to sea world, can't you see the map (closes in on a map of the sea world park in Cleveland, oh)
Mr. Aldrich: That's a long way away beth
Me: I have a backpack
Mr. Aldrich: do you have a flash light, it gets dark on your way there
Me: (visibly hesitant) well maybe I will just run away tomorrow.

Moments like these that when I was 14 I hated my parents for capturing, but now I wish I could have my own version of Wonder Years. I guess I will have to settle on kickball for now, and don't worry we will dominate the league.

I've been a wild rover for many a year...

The rest of that Irish tune goes: And I spent all my money on whisky and beer. That is in fact how one could describe the weekend. However I did not drink all that much for a change (I did buy lots of beer and whisky just not for myself).


First up Vanessa's 21st Birthday. Vanessa turned 21 finally! She is the baby of our group of friends and I was so excited to celebrate her birthday with her. Jeanie made her the traditional shot book and we were on our way. Little did I know that she would be so successful to fill her shot book that she would be home at 11:30 (not long after a 20 minute discussion on how she could not stand up and therefore not go into the bar.) On the upswing during the debate I must have impressed the bouncer (oh so cute Brandon) who I have a date with next weekend.

Next up and after we put Vanessa in a cab for the second time. She got out of the first one a block away and came back to the bar. (I have to give her points for being resilient). I was able to see my good friend Chava and his band Mellowtronic preform at Gojangles in Chicago. You should check out their profile on myspace music. They have a great sound and a truly fantastic stage presence.

And lastly as you all know there was this little holiday Saturday that I had been getting pumped about for months. Like a kid who didn't get what they wanted for Christmas, this years St. Paddy's was not one to write home about. However I did have a blast with my favorite girls Vanessa (who had rebounded like a champ from the previous night) and Katie G. Shoe couldn't make it due to a sprained knee and too much vodka at her pre-party festivities. It was nice to see all my Kelly's Pub friends and to have some beers and relax.

I am back on the sober train and going sticking to my promise. Only 18 more days of lent, I think I can do it. I have a new addiction March Madness, I am kicking ass and taking names #1 in all my pools, it helps to be sober when making your picks apparently.

21 days and a singing cab driver.

So I am on my 21st day of no drinking, and I must say this has been the longest I have gone since I was about 17 years old with out drinking. This is also the first time I have really stuck to anything this regimented. That all gets thrown out the door on Saturday when St. Paddy's day hits and I get my much needed vacation from my Lenten promise.

But while we wait I want to tell you a little story about Karma. As many of my friends know I have been working very hard at changing some of my negative behaviors in order to improve my karma that has been a bitch lately. Such things include random acts of kindness, limiting my bad mouthing, trying to be a more positive person, and helping out people in need. Well finally I have a sign that things are-a-changing.

After five (almost six) years in the beautiful city of Chicago, I got to experience the Famous Singing Cab Driver. He is an urban legend of sorts and his name is Ray St. Ray. I had just departed early from a night at a local spot called the Hop Leaf (aka purgatory for the beer drinker not drinking), ticked off that I missed a cab on my way out the door a waited, and waited and finally was picked up. And as luck would have it, lucky me, I got the infamous Ray St. Ray as my driver. And he lives up to the legend. A friendly face and great banter greeted me as I sulked in the cab over passing on the great beer selection at the Hop Leaf. Ray explained his background to me and asked me if I would care to hear a tune. Who would say no to this I ask? Anyways he gave me a list of categories (basic ones for the most part) I of course decided on Christmas. Who doesn't want to hear a nice Christmas carol in March. He came through with a stirring tune that said something about baby Jesus and a rocket ship. It made the less than 15 minute drive a most pleasant experience. And to top it off when we got to my destination he told me a story about how he became the singing cab driver and handed me a card, and in parting said "Consider this a sign of karma changing".

Who was this guy, did he read minds, was it that obvious that I was fed up with this Eastern take on the golden rule. I don't know but it was a sign if you ask me and since then things have only been going up. I started my new position at work, its been in the 50s and 60s in Chicago full of sunshine, and hey I think I've even lost a pound or two. Thanks Ray St. Ray for making a believer out of me. As for all of you, I hope one day you will get to experience this phenomenon that is the singing cab driver.

Does my Ass look Big in This...

And it's official the NY Times' Fashion Section has their head way up their you know whats:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/08/fashion/08CODES.html?ex=1174021200&en=98009466e4d00fad&ei=5070&emc=eta1

The above above link will take you to the New York Times' Fashion section. My favorite blogger friend Miss. Helen E sent me this story because she knows I'd roll around in my cubicle in a fit of laughter.

Men these days are concerned about tight fitting clothes accentuating the flaws of their bodies: The following image pops in to my head:

This folks is my brother Jimbo, I cannot for the life of me imagine Jimbo at 6ft 3inches and about 200+ lbs saying "look at these thunder thighs and this ass is huge, i need to get to my Pilate's class." My dear blogger bud added, I could also never see Jimbo buying an insanely tight fitting YSL suit.

Point taken. In the age of the emo straight leg jean, and the YSL slim fitted suite, are men becoming shall I say body conscious? And if they are could it be possible that perhaps they could be one step closer to understanding why people like myself 5ft 2 and lets just say more to love, don't wear the same things that those skeleton actresses like nicole richie and kate bosworth wear. This women of the world could be a step in the right direction.

Or for arguments sake is this just another example of our generations incessant need for approval and compliment. Parents no longer yell at their kids because it damages their fragile sense of self-worth. At twelve I knew what clothes were not flattering because my mother told me. Don't get me wrong I understand positive self image is a good thing to pass onto your kids but when your 12 year old at 110lbs says they are two fat to wear things, what exactly have you done to promote that. Patting them on the back instead of correcting them when they are wrong is not making them any more self sufficient and confident.

As for these men in tights, get over it suckers, it's called a fad, it will go as quick as it came. I never gave into the skinny jeans fad. Why? Because I have an ass and thighs and it doesn't look as good as my low rise boot-cuts. Not all body types are born for fashion, and who are these designers to dictate what someone should or should not look like. If I had listened the Calvin Klein in my formative years (the 90s) I would be a coke addicted skeleton, like his former poster child. Although I did like his black on gray color pallet.

The bottom line of this blog ladies and in particular gents: Not all of us are meant for high fashion, it doesn't make you worthless or less cool, it makes you confident enough to stand on your own and create a fashion that makes you feel good. If all else fails, just buy shoes, they always fit, they always look good, and even if they are wildly in style, they come in your size.

And I've Got It

I told you I would be back with hilarity as soon as I found it, and boy have I found it.

You know when you are a kid and your mom has the willys about one of your friends. Even at the age of 5 there was a friend of mine that my mom just knew would grow up to be trouble. Like my brother's friend who grew up to own a rent by the hour motel, or that friend of my other brother who ended up in jail after a huge fight in college. Mom's just have that radar. They spot a wild child and try to nip it in the butt before you get involved.

My mother always called me a magnet for these people. She blames names (all matthews are disruptive in classrooms, all girls named after gem stones end up in trouble with the law) these observations come from years as a behavior specialist in grade schools. I can remember one of my first non-catholic school friends Crystal (my mom told me there was always a crystal or jade getting me in trouble). Crystal's grandma lived next to us and she was bad news, she used to smoke cigarettes (i don't think she inhaled) behind the garage at seriously age 6 or 7. She is now the mother of 5 (at 23) none of which are in her custody.


But I digress, this all came to mind when I was catching up with a grade school friend over the weekend. We talked about where people were and what they were up to. Then Haley came up, one of our grade school pals who's house we'd go to when we wanted to watch MTV or stay up late. Haley had the cool mom that never wanted to look uncool in front of us. Haley is now a stripper in Vegas, all those tap lessons came in handy.

Then there was Katy, her dad had playboys and her mom gave us free reign. We watched inappropriate movies, stayed up way to late and i don't think ever ate a meal there (it was always cupcakes or candy). I think she follows Phish these days, since the break up I have not heard anymore about her.

The bottom line is all those kids my mom warned me about she was right. These aren't bad people, and they weren't bad kids, they just were never up to any good. As I look back now I can see why mom didn't want me to go to Shannon's house because her mom was having an affair with so and so's dad and let us drink in 7th grade.

The lesson in this be careful what you name your kids. Jayden James will be one wild boy when he grows up!

Coming from a perpetual under achiever.

There is a quote by Bill Cosby that says: "I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody."

I think that is indeed my failure in life as I approach my quarter century mark, and this coming from a perpetual under achiever. Most of my life I have faced failures, and not because I wasn't given the opportunity to succeed and the tools to be successful. I have spent so much of my life worried about how I was being perceived and how my achievements effected the way I was perceived.

My mom was in town this weekend and it got me thinking. She is honest almost to a fault, she raised me with a thick skin. Her words, even if they aren't meant to, bite the hardest. Don't get me wrong we have a great relationship that has weathered many a storm, but she is the one person in my life that I find it nearly impossible to please.

Example one: My outer appearance: "I guess that's in style now", "you look terrible have you been sleeping", "oh you quit drinking for lent, maybe you should have given up sweets as well". Never meant to be harsh or judgemental but hit the hardest, like when you hit your funny bone.

It isn't just my mom either, I mean I try to please my friends as well and at times it is exhausting. They all have schedules and important events and I try my damnedest to be there for everything but its never enough. Even when it comes to advice they want me to be honest and tell them what I think and then are offended by my opinion, but if I say whatever makes you happy they are unsatisfied as well. Its honestly exhausting.

Now I know why people are scared of rehab, they use their vice as an escape from all of this thinking. Trust me I can sympathize with that. But I can also honestly say the last few weeks have made me truly examine myself and what I need to do to please myself and therefore be capable of pleasing others.

Maybe good ol' Bill was right about more than just Jello, pleasing everybody will always be a failure, but it doesn't have to be a complete failure. My sense of humor and joviality have gotten me far but I think I have more to offer than a joke and a party, I have experience and a mind for thoughtful consideration. My hope is to be able to use both in the future to better my chances at success, but let's face it, it's not all that bad to be a under achiever. In fact a enjoy it!

And let's not think that I lost my sense of humor when I kicked the beer cans to the curb. I promise some hilarity will soon ensue, I am just waiting for the perfect post to debut it.