I think anyone who has a pet should be required, when talking about their pet, to remember that most people don’t give a crap about their pet and just want their paycheck without any lip! (This includes myself, if and when I ever get my new puppy. You all must keep me true to my word, because I’ve already begun to turn to the dark side).
I think the Backstreet Boys must seriously reconisder their attempt at a reunion. It scares me when I am driving home at 11:00 at night and hear a love song on a VERY BAD RADIO STATION because the one that I like only plays Loveline at night (and by the way, I’m pissed about that as well) and I hear the Backstreet Boys. I am transported back to high school and am thinking of the sweaty south gym with it’s rubber floors and crepe paper. Frightening thoughts.
I am sure that all players in the Shawnee Intermediate Sand Volleyball leauge should have mercy on my team and my arms (and my legs and my feet and my belly) and drink at least 5 beers before playing us. We must end the 6 game streak.
Thank God for hotdogs, beer, summertime, the Royals and camera phones.
Thank God for mini bottles of Bacardi. And thank God for Justin Timberlake. Yes, I like Justin Timberlake. Yes, I understand he’s kind of the same deal as the Backstreet Boys. And no, I don’t care.
http://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.png00Meganhttp://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.pngMegan2005-04-15 15:08:042005-04-15 15:08:04A Few Requests
My mother started her obsession with Shop-At-Home television when I was quite young. I can remember coming home from school, going into her bedroom and seeing her with the remote in one hand and the phone in the other. Maybe this is why I hate shopping so very much. You see, my mother is the type of person that wants everyone around her to believe she’s a high class woman. Quote: “Megan, put on some pantyhose for church. Your bare legs look low class” or “Megan, don’t say fuck in public, it sounds low class.” Yes mother, I will only say fuck in the presence of family.
Anyway, yesterday I was talking to The Mary-Rita (I prefer to refer to my mom as The Mary-Rita, it sounds higher class than just Mom)as she drove from her double-wide to the UPS store. Yes, the high class Mary-Rita chooses to live in a double wide trailor in Florida rather then live in a normal house in Kansas. She likes to look tan. It’s high class. So, she gets to the UPS store to return some packages, which she then explains she’s ordered from QVC and had sent to Florida so my Dad won’t know. She used to send the packages home as “gifts” so the price wasn’t on them, but then she could never remember how much she spent. The “faux gold” tiarras weren’t quite what she thought they’d be, so she’s returning them.
The Mary-Rita explains to the UPS guy that she HATES it when people talk on their phones while in the store, but she’s talking to her daughter from Kansas who never calls.
“She’s beautiful and 22, how old are you?” **The only time my mother ever says I’m beautiful is when she’s either trying to find me a husband or show someone how high class she is, for only high class people have beautiful daughters**
“I’m 22.”
“Megan, did you hear that. He’s 22! You should come down and meet him!”
Yes mother, I’ll just jump a plane down there tomorrow to meet your friend the UPS guy.
http://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.png00Meganhttp://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.pngMegan2005-04-13 10:14:482005-04-13 10:14:48The CEO of QVC and why I'm nuts.
So this morning I’m getting up like I do every other day of the week, which basically means about 20 minutes after my alarm goes off. As per usual, I’m groggy, grumpy and stumbling around the apartment. I head to the bathroom for my morning pee and to turn the shower on, and as I get up I step on a VERY LARGE, HAIRY BEAST!!!
Now, I’m not a person who is easily frightened by bugs. I’m the one who’s usually killing the spiders while my friends are hiding in the other room. After 2 years working in a dirt lab (yes, a lab where we tested dirt…long story) I’m not even scared of most bees or other insects with stingers. That, of course, does not count the scorpion, which would scare the living crap out of me if I ever saw one!
Anyway, so I step on this large insect, which then starts freaking out and buzzing around the room in a panic. I still cannot see what the hell I’ve stepped on because I’ve yet to put my contacts in, so by this point I am pretty much freaking out. I finally get my contacts in and turn around to where the bug was, and it’s GONE!DISSAPEARED! I breathe, remember I am not a pansy, and go on with my daily routine.
Then, as I throw my PJ’s in the hamper, I hear more wild buzzing. At this point the fear of the unknown has taken over my body and I start screaming at the top of my lungs. I run into the bedroom and wake up Trent by yelling, “There is a HUGE BEE-FLY-THING in the bathroom and it’s going to sting me!!!†Trent replies with his usual “Go away woman.†This is normally his response when woken up by screaming.
I finally get him to realize that this is a very serious issue where I may die of a prehistoric bug disease of which there is no current cure, and he gets up to check out my situation. Once he saw this bug, he too was screaming like a little girl. In a very manly, sexy sort of way. After several swats at this beast and several changes of clothing for fear of the bug getting trapped underneath his shirt, Trent conquered the creature. It is now sitting in a jar in our bathroom where it will lie in state for 9 days of mandatory mourning. After that, a new bug will be elected to terrify me in the morning.
http://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.png00Meganhttp://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.pngMegan2005-04-12 12:36:232005-04-12 12:36:23Trent Vs. The Fly
A Few Requests
/2 Comments/in Blond, Fun, Photos, Trent /by MeganI think anyone who has a pet should be required, when talking about their pet, to remember that most people don’t give a crap about their pet and just want their paycheck without any lip! (This includes myself, if and when I ever get my new puppy. You all must keep me true to my word, because I’ve already begun to turn to the dark side).
I think the Backstreet Boys must seriously reconisder their attempt at a reunion. It scares me when I am driving home at 11:00 at night and hear a love song on a VERY BAD RADIO STATION because the one that I like only plays Loveline at night (and by the way, I’m pissed about that as well) and I hear the Backstreet Boys. I am transported back to high school and am thinking of the sweaty south gym with it’s rubber floors and crepe paper. Frightening thoughts.
I am sure that all players in the Shawnee Intermediate Sand Volleyball leauge should have mercy on my team and my arms (and my legs and my feet and my belly) and drink at least 5 beers before playing us. We must end the 6 game streak.
Thank God for hotdogs, beer, summertime, the Royals and camera phones.
Thank God for mini bottles of Bacardi. And thank God for Justin Timberlake. Yes, I like Justin Timberlake. Yes, I understand he’s kind of the same deal as the Backstreet Boys. And no, I don’t care.
The CEO of QVC and why I’m nuts.
/3 Comments/in Family /by MeganMy mother started her obsession with Shop-At-Home television when I was quite young. I can remember coming home from school, going into her bedroom and seeing her with the remote in one hand and the phone in the other. Maybe this is why I hate shopping so very much. You see, my mother is the type of person that wants everyone around her to believe she’s a high class woman. Quote: “Megan, put on some pantyhose for church. Your bare legs look low class” or “Megan, don’t say fuck in public, it sounds low class.” Yes mother, I will only say fuck in the presence of family.
Anyway, yesterday I was talking to The Mary-Rita (I prefer to refer to my mom as The Mary-Rita, it sounds higher class than just Mom)as she drove from her double-wide to the UPS store. Yes, the high class Mary-Rita chooses to live in a double wide trailor in Florida rather then live in a normal house in Kansas. She likes to look tan. It’s high class. So, she gets to the UPS store to return some packages, which she then explains she’s ordered from QVC and had sent to Florida so my Dad won’t know. She used to send the packages home as “gifts” so the price wasn’t on them, but then she could never remember how much she spent. The “faux gold” tiarras weren’t quite what she thought they’d be, so she’s returning them.
The Mary-Rita explains to the UPS guy that she HATES it when people talk on their phones while in the store, but she’s talking to her daughter from Kansas who never calls.
“She’s beautiful and 22, how old are you?”
**The only time my mother ever says I’m beautiful is when she’s either trying to find me a husband or show someone how high class she is, for only high class people have beautiful daughters**
“I’m 22.”
“Megan, did you hear that. He’s 22! You should come down and meet him!”
Yes mother, I’ll just jump a plane down there tomorrow to meet your friend the UPS guy.
Trent Vs. The Fly
/2 Comments/in Trent /by MeganSo this morning I’m getting up like I do every other day of the week, which basically means about 20 minutes after my alarm goes off. As per usual, I’m groggy, grumpy and stumbling around the apartment. I head to the bathroom for my morning pee and to turn the shower on, and as I get up I step on a VERY LARGE, HAIRY BEAST!!!
Now, I’m not a person who is easily frightened by bugs. I’m the one who’s usually killing the spiders while my friends are hiding in the other room. After 2 years working in a dirt lab (yes, a lab where we tested dirt…long story) I’m not even scared of most bees or other insects with stingers. That, of course, does not count the scorpion, which would scare the living crap out of me if I ever saw one!
Anyway, so I step on this large insect, which then starts freaking out and buzzing around the room in a panic. I still cannot see what the hell I’ve stepped on because I’ve yet to put my contacts in, so by this point I am pretty much freaking out. I finally get my contacts in and turn around to where the bug was, and it’s GONE! DISSAPEARED! I breathe, remember I am not a pansy, and go on with my daily routine.
Then, as I throw my PJ’s in the hamper, I hear more wild buzzing. At this point the fear of the unknown has taken over my body and I start screaming at the top of my lungs. I run into the bedroom and wake up Trent by yelling, “There is a HUGE BEE-FLY-THING in the bathroom and it’s going to sting me!!!†Trent replies with his usual “Go away woman.†This is normally his response when woken up by screaming.
I finally get him to realize that this is a very serious issue where I may die of a prehistoric bug disease of which there is no current cure, and he gets up to check out my situation. Once he saw this bug, he too was screaming like a little girl. In a very manly, sexy sort of way. After several swats at this beast and several changes of clothing for fear of the bug getting trapped underneath his shirt, Trent conquered the creature. It is now sitting in a jar in our bathroom where it will lie in state for 9 days of mandatory mourning. After that, a new bug will be elected to terrify me in the morning.