News Vent

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Today, I am breaking some blogging silence to tell the mainstream media that they surely do need to give themselves an enema. Holy. Effing. Crap. I got on my selected news channel of choice’s website today and immediately wanted to throw my computer out a 12-story window. Why? Let me show you:

CNN Screencap FAIL

OK, so maybe you can’t read that, so let me tell you about the top stories online today.

1. “Papa John’s founder warns against eating too much pizza” (also seen as “Papa John’s Radio Gaffe) – Apparently, while in London promoting the British franchises of his restaurant chain, the founder of Papa John’s pizza told his interviewer that “Pizza’s actually healthy for you if you don’t eat too much of it. You can’t eat five or six slices but if you eat one or two slices it’s very nutritious.” Apparently that is quite the gaffe. A restaurant owner told people NOT to eat too much of what he produces. Instead of encouraging us to Super Size everything in sight, he told us to get healthy. How dare he?!

I say kudos to Mr. Schnatter for putting the health of his patrons before corporate greed and investors. This was not a gaffe, and I will be eating at Papa John’s (moderately, of course) because of it.

And also, isn’t the fact that eating six slices of pizza in a sitting will make you fat common knowledge? This isn’t a great scientific discovery, AP reporters.

2. “Recession takes toll on parties” – AREYOUKIDDINGME! Effing waaahhh you poor babies. This mentality makes me ill.

3. “Phelps suspended from competition, dropped by Kellogg” – Nothing pisses me off more than the idiocracy that has led to the marajuana laws in this country. Michael Phelps smoked pot. A 23-year-old male college student smoked pot. An athelte smoked pot during the off season. Get over it! Jesus, it’s pot. Not crack. Not steroids. Not even alcohol, which kills more people per year than pot does and ever will. While Kellogg’s certainly sees nothing wrong with pushing unhealthy amounts of sugar in to my two-year-old’s diet by shoving cartoon frogs and tigers down her throat, it has a problem with an adult man smoking (maybe, hasn’t actually been proven) pot out of a bong. Get off your high horse Kellogg’s. At least Michael Phelps isn’t smoking out of a bong with a cartoon cat on it, telling kids it’s GRRRREAT!

4. Octuplets’ mom: ‘All I ever wanted’ – Idiot. No money, no career, no partner to help raise the children, six other young kids already. Implanted SIX EMBRYOS! Idiot. And I’m talking about the fertility doctor, not the woman, as she’s obviously unbalanced and we don’t make fun of mental illness on CB dot com.

Wow, I feel better. Don’t you? Now let’s get out in this insane-o seventy degree weather and forget the news. If just for one, happy day.

All Good Things Must

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When I was 19, my parents decided the car I’d been driving around my college town was about to break down (as I’d found myself alone on the dark highway with a dead vehicle on several occasions), and they wanted to buy me a new one. I’d been paying for most of my college expenses on my own, including tuition, and their offer of a car was such a wonderful gift. We searched and searched for the perfect “college car.” We test drove every Jeep I could get my hands on, a few Camry’s, and even a Honda or two. But in the end, we found a great deal on an almost-new Chevy Blazer. It had two doors, POWER WINDOWS (I was so excited about the freakin’ power windows), and a CD player. I was in heaven.

I drove that car for years and years. Even when bits and pieces of it started to be recalled, and Chevy discontinued the model entirely, I loved that car. I named her Daisy, because I was a girl and I was in college, and shut up I don’t care what you think! I took her on road trips to Florida and Tennessee and Colorado and Texas. I burned several little holes in the upholstery with my disgusting smoking habit. One time, when the battery had to be replaced, I drove around with the old battery in the back for weeks before I realized it had tipped over and spilled acid everywhere. Let’s say that was the end of the nice upholstery.

Yuck

My brother once backed in to it when he was high at my parents’ house, and we had to have the bumper completely replaced. I backed in to a giant tree at the dog park in Lawrence and completely smashed out the rear window. That car had been through some drama.

But good times too. It was the car of Trent and I’s first dates, kisses, trysts that I won’t mention here because, um, ew. One time, while drunk tailgating at a Royals game way back when we were young and fun, Trent decided he needed to brand my car with his love.

I love

Yeah, permanent marker…that never came off.

So when I traded that lovely car in for a brand spanking new vehicle last Friday, I started to shed some tears. I told Trent to take a picture of me with the car, quick, before I lost it. I’m not good at saying goodbye.

Sad

Lu just put her head on my shoulder, one hand holding a red balloon that the salesman had given her, the other hand placed on my cheek, whispering in my ear, “You’re fine, Mama. You’re fine. It’s okay.”

Endings make me so sad, sometimes it’s hard for me to realize an ending is really a beginning. Stuff is just that. Stuff.

And it doesn’t hurt that the new car has satellite radio.

Social Media For Dummies

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I’ve had some people ask me what my deal is with Flickr and Twitter and Facebook and blogging…and oh my god! Megan, get an effing life!

To those people I say, true, I should aquire some sort of life, which is why I’m cutting down on the blogathon that has taken over my being for the past few years and attempting to have more fun by actually “living” life, instead of writing about it. What an idea, right?

I know tons of friends that have attempted to start blogs only to have them end after a week or two of posts. It’s for a variety of reasons, but usually boils down to not having enough time, not feeling like they had anything to say, not enough readers or just forgetting the thing existed entirely. One reason this blog is updated so often is because I really do love to write. I love to put down what I’m thinking/liking/laughing at each day. I love that I can go to some random date four years ago and read about my life, a life that seems so foreign to me now.

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. – March 2005

Well, truth be told, I’m still a fan of mini bottles of alcohol and Justin Timberlake, so maybe things haven’t changed as much as I think.

I’ll still be here, probably posting as regularly as before, but I’m giving myself permission to slack off a bit if I feel like it. The ads on this page don’t make that much money anyway, and who’ll miss me? Besides my mom.

If I haven’t posted here, you can always check my Twitter feed, which is so addicting I find myself attempting to Twitter while driving my car. Not safe, but I had to tell the world about the bumper sticker that said “My Other Ride Is Your Mom.” Just for reference, here are five of my favorite recent Tweets:

I’m stimulated by the very thought of Obama’s package, and I mean that only in the most fiscal of ways. – Paula

Who’s idea was it to make “Accelerate Your Life” the Navy’s new tagline? Doesn’t that just mean “You’ll Die Sooner” if you join the Navy? – DadGoneMad

LOD’s son is writing a rock opera called “I’d Rather Live In Someone Else’s Butt Than Go To School.” Watch your back, Sondheim. – LOD

Email from my dad: “It appears to mom and me that the signal to the undead will probably be given on Meet the Press this Sunday.” Be alert. – Looky Daddy

I’vereintroducedcaffieneintomysystemandmybrainfeelslikethis. – Maggie

My most recent Tweet says something about how much wine I drank this weekend, but it’s not that funny, so I won’t share it here. Although one time I did write a pretty funny Tweet that was basically a love letter to cheese popcorn. So there’s that.

{Oh yeah, follow me on Twitter here. Wooty woot! >>>>>>>>>>>>> Cannot believe I just said wooty woot. What the hell is the matter with me?!}

If you need me, I’ll be living. Or Tweeting.

A Few Items to Get You Through the Weekend

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1. Yesterday I started painting our basement. It’s been beige for far too long, and after spending a gajillion dollars on paint samples, I made myself choose between a grey-blue shade and a bright, tropical blue. Basically this versus this. We were going for a look like the picture below from Allison Wonderland (via This is Reverb):

Paint Idea

Let me tell you, it does not look that cute. It looks like a Smurf exploded in our basement. I was hoping when it dried I would like it more. I don’t.

2. I woke up this morning to the entire freaking world covered in a blanket of snow. WTF, Kansas City weather stations, a warning would have been nice! I hate the cold. I’m moving to California.

3. Check out this fun hair tutorial I found on Hair Thursday. I normally use my straightener to curl my hair, but I always end up looking like a grown up Shirley Temple.


How To Curl Hair with a Flat Iron from Hair Thursday on Vimeo.

I covet her haircut, and am thinking of copying it, but for now, my hair has beachy waves and I’m pretending I’m laying in a chaise lounge listening to the ocean. Oh, and I’m drinking a pina colada…one that’s more pina then colada, if you know what I’m saying.

Because I sure don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.

4. I get to go to a grown up bar tonight and have sophisticated drinks with a friend/client. Har har, Kansas City, look out! It is the grand return of Megan Martini! I will be the one in the big orange boots with beachy waves in her hair. Breakdancing is a real possiblity.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

To Make Me Happy

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This year for Christmas, I spent quite a bit of time (probably much more than was needed) looking for the perfect stocking stuffers. In Trent’s family, we draw names for gift giving, so stocking stuffers are really the only way you can give something to anyone other than your designated recipient. I like that the gifts are small, but fun (sometimes joke gifts, see Scott and Steve below), and everyone brings in their own personality.

For example, Allison, Trent’s sister, gave all the ladies metal ornaments of their first initial; Steve, Allison’s husband, gave everyone wallet-sized class photos of himself (now hanging on my fridge with all of the other kids pictures I have); Scott, Trent’s brother, gave us each a joke pen that was supposed to look like it was taken from a real medical office (mine said, “Recoving Sexual Addition Therapy”); Erin, Scott’s wife, gave us all some of her beautiful jewelry. I gave the boys animals that pooped out jelly beans and the ladies egg holders from Anthropologie (seriously, the sale racks at Anthropologie have the best stocking stuffers) and some of my favorite chapstick.

For Trent, I always try to step it up a bit, as he is the one true love of mine (other than James McAvoy and the lead singer of Sigur Ros, no one can sing made up words like that guy can). This year he got Mr. T In Your Pocket, a keychain that says lines of Mr. T when you hit a button. He also got a T-shirt from Threadless.com (a new tradition I’m starting, we each get a t-shirt in our stocking every year). Along with some other random knick knacks, he also received the following checklist for his office:

Things You Must Do To Make Me Happy

Things You Must Do

Currently, to make me happier, he must:

– Tell me I’m smart
– Bend over
– Turn off the alarm
– Register your gun
– Sprinkle it with sunshine
– Come home
– Get off the computer
– Adopt a French accent
– Humor me
– Get me a drink
– Pretend you’re listening
– Live long and prosper
– Love me forver

Simple, right? I don’t get why guys think we’re so hard to understand.

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