Laundro-Mat Doodle

Every weekend I do a couple loads of laundry at the corner laundro-mat. This is how I entertain myself. Since I'm pretty lazy over the weekends, this might be a regular feature since all it requires is that I scan a picture or two. What do you think?

And yes, I have major geek love.

Funny Prank

Click here. Then search for my blog. You'll like it ... or not. *evil laugh*

Veganism

While I was trapped in the airport on the Day after Christmas I diverted myself by glancing through the nearest bookstore. I'm always a little disappointed with airport bookstores, because they never have anything I want to read (i.e. geeky fantasy novels) and a lot of autobiographies of of left-leaning political candidates. I've decided I'm going to start using Barak Obama's title, The Audacity of Hope as my new obnoxious catch phrase: "Well, I don't think I'm going to leave this airport before I turn 40, but I have the audacity to hope the plane will arrive sometime this decade."

I found this little gem of a book, called Skinny Bitch, which is so delightfully annoying that I can't help commenting on it. Basically it's a manifesto on veganism painfully disguised as a witty, hip, in-your-face guide to eating. Which, in this case, translates into writing like you're 14 and using lots of profanity.

Now, I really don't have a problem with veganism as an idea, but I can't stand the attitude that seems to go with it. Adopting an air of superiority because you've chosen to due away with animal products is really not merited, especially when your eating choices make you a really obnoxious dining companion.

Their first argument describes meat as decaying, decomposing lump of waste, so ewww, why would you want to eat that? Except it was more like "So why in the f****** h*** would you want to eat that s***?" Well, dead is dead, whether animal or vegetable, so I would think that by this same logic, a salad is really just a nicely tossed compost pile. But what would I know? I'm just a fat slob who's idea of a nice dinner is decaying meat and potatoes.

The second argument was against dairy. Apparently "big dairy" should joining the ranks of "big oil" and "big tobacco" as an industry that's really trying to exploit people by taking their money then killing them. Now, this may be true, but from my experience, it's usually the people who don't eat animals that are interested in exterminating people. According to the authors, humans are the only species that drinks milk from another species and that drinks milk into adulthood. My response to this is that the authors are either A. Stupid, B. Have never actually spent any time around the animals, or C. Pushing an idealogical agenda.

I decided to test their theory on test subjects of both different stages of life and species.
Apparently, full-grown kitties and 8-month-old puppies enjoy drinking cow's milk. What's more, the draw of cow's milk was so strong they were able to overcome their natural aversion of each other and drink in harmony.

I've also milk goats on a goat farm, and the goats when nuts trying to drink their own milk, even the adults, so I don't buy that.

Here's something else humans do that animals don't do: actively care for the sick and wounded, not only of our own kind, but other creatures as well. We follow a rule of law, rather then resolving our problems through violent means (at least until we evil red staters take over). And we waste our time reading and writing on decaying remnants of trees.

Here's something people don't do that animals do: Eat poo. My dog seems to think the litter box is actually a treat box.

Now, I love animals. I couldn't live in a 650-square foot apartment with husband, two cats and a dog if I didn't. But animals don't deserve to be on a pedestal. Anytime spent around animals will reveal that on the whole they are selfish, gross, and nasty creatures that are mainly interested in eating, whether poo, grass, or each other, and procreating. After centuries of domestication dogs and cats are barely tolerable, but even thats only after individual training and time to make them worthwhile to be around.

Another things humans do is is allow each other to make their own choices on how to live their lives (at least, the humans who live in the West do. But still, it was homo sapiens who came up with the idea). So don't eat meat if it makes you sleep better at night. But don't look down at your nose at me if I do. Now I'm off to eat some eggs for breakfast. And my pets will have the audacity to hope that I'll share some with them.

My Birthday

Was yesterday. Yay! :)

Sales Seminar

My boss comes to me the other day and says "So, how would you like to attend this sales seminar next week?"

My immediate thought is "I think I would hate it," but I have learned that saying what you really think rarely advances you forward in life. So instead I said, "Sure." And then thought "Heck, if I'm getting paid, I'll wash your car for you. Oh wait, I've already done that. "

The seminar wasn't as bad as I thought. First, they served free food, which almost guarantees my presence at an event. In college I once attended both the College Republican and the College Democrats rallys just because they served free pizza. I didn't even hear what any of their platforms were, but I do remember the Democrats had a puppet or something like that.

The real purpose of my attending was not to learn to be a better sales person, but a better secretary. I learned all the new dirty tricks sales people are engaging in order to push their wares. One of the best was calling the secretary and asking, "Hey, is so-and-so out of their meeting yet?" The secretary will probably answer yes and the salesperson will have created the impression that he knows the boss. So sneaky. But now I know better. I feel like I was engaged in a covert operation to learn the game strategies of the enemy.

Inevitably, when you get a bunch of business people together, they want to start networking. However, networking isn't quite as effective when everyone is applying the same tactics they just learned together on each other.

"So Meghan, is your boss gonna be around on Tuesday?"
"Um, you know I was just at the same seminar as you, right? I know what you're trying to do."
"Well, I have some really great insurance to offer. Do you think I can drop by sometime next Tuesday?"
"Dude, what are you doing? We don't want your insurance!"
"If Tuesday doesn't work, maybe Wednesday? How 'bout it, Tuesday or Wednesday?"
"STOP IT!" I then grabbed a stack of my business cards and started flinging them at him like Chinese stars. "Get back, back I say!"

Needless to say, I'm not going to be invited to any corporate parties this year, which is a shame. That's a lot of free food I'm missing out on.

Meeting with the Boss

So I had to have a meeting yesterday with my boss. He always likes to start the meetings by asking me how I'm feeling. This is an awkward situation, because while he says he wants me to be honest, when it comes to the work environment, honesty is rarely the best policy.


Boss: "So, how are you feeling."

Me: "Good!"

Honest Me: "I want to cry!"

Boss: "So how can we improve your work?"

Me: "I need to start meeting my work goals."

Honest Me: "This is the best you're gonna get. Seriously."

Boss: "So how can I help you meet your goals?"

Me: "We should work on improving our communication!"

Honest Me: "Well, you could pay me to stay home. That would accomplish a lot of my goals!"

I'm totally Quiting my Job!

Why work like a smuck when I can get paid to play video games. This website looks straight legit' yo.

Operations Manual

So my boss decided I should put together a manual explaining what I do. That way, when I'm on vacation, another person can fill in my place.

I'm a little at a loss at how to write a how-to when my job mostly consists of doing whatever chores my boss has assigned for me that day.

How to Do Meghan's Job
By Meghan Plott

Step 1: Get Boss's To-Do list

Step 2: Do it.

Somehow, I don't think this is what he has in mind. I need some more filler.

How to Do Meghan's Job
By Meghan Plott

Step 1: Get Boss's To-Do list

Step 1.25: Read over list

Step 1.5: Make notes on list

Step 1.75: Doodle quick picture of a frog eating a butterfly saying "thems good eats!"

Step 2: Do to-do list.

Well, that's a good start, but it's not meaty enough. What else do I do at work?

How to Do Meghan's Job
By Meghan Plott

Step 1: Get Boss's To-Do list

Step 1.25: Read over list

Step 1.5: Make notes on list

Step 1.75: Doodle quick picture of a frog eating a butterfly saying "thems good eats!"


Step 2: Do to-do list.

Step 2.25: Take a break to surreptitiously check email.

Step 2.5: Grab a snack from kitchen

Step 2.75: Read over list again, make more notes, doodle some more

Step 3: Check clock.

Step 3.25: Check clock.

Step 3.5: Check email.

Step 3.75: Check clock, just in case a time warp occurred that you weren't aware of.

Step 4: Complete to-do list. Make sure to report to Boss how it took all day long.


Well, that's pretty accurate. But when I look over this list, I realize it's really not needed. I think anyone who filled in for me would have this stuff down pat.

If you're reading this blog, you must be smart!

And that's not just me tooting my own horn. This website proves it!

Cash Advance Loans

I found this link courtesy of my friend Chris. I consider him to be much better at writing than me, but his blog only ranked at a high school reading level. Which means he probably is a better communicator.

New Job

I got a new job about a month ago for a construction/remodeling company. I was sad to leave the real estate job, but I'm just not a good salesperson. My pitch somehow always turned into a sale for my competitor "Oh, you're going with another agent to see North Quincy, I love North Quincy!" Like my Bob, my old boss said, "Meghan, you're not a closer."

So now I'm working Monday-Friday, 9-5ish, and I have benefits and over time and the whole-shebang, which is an improvement over the old job, accept for the fact that I actually have to work. At the agency, I went home when I wanted, did laundry during the day, went grocery shopping, whatever I wanted. Now I arrive home at 6:00 and all I want to do relax, but the laundry is inconsiderate and won't take itself down to the laundromat.

If only I could somehow combine the best of both worlds, a job where I don't have to work but I still get paid for full time and get dental. Well, if this place doesn't work out there's always my backup plan - winning American Idol.

Sometimes Being Cheap can be Costly

Oops.

YORK, Pa. — A man trying to climb a 12-foot, wrought-iron fence into a concert venue fell onto one of the inch-thick spikes, impaling his thigh, then held on while rescuers worked to cut part of the fence away ... The man had a concert ticket, but officials said the group may have jumped the fence to avoid the fair's $5 entry fee. His friends jumped the fence safely.

Let this be a lesson to all my cheapskate friends out there. Someday, it could kill you! ... Or wound you at least.

Babies!

I love big families, and am trying to convince my husband that four children is the perfect number. He wasn't swayed by my argument that it's our patriotic duty to out populate the Iranians, but I think this argument might have a better chance - redheads are going extinct! As a redhead, Taylor is obligated to pass on his genes in order to preserve his kind! How could he be callous enough to do otherwise?

My Puppy is Disgustingly Cute!

... And if you disagree, you are wrong.

Typo

I flew down to Dallas last weekend for a wedding. I had a two-hour layover in Baltimore, so to kill time I perused through the bookstore and found this gem:
I immediately spotted a typographical error, and while it's too late to help Al Gore, I decided to do what I can here on my little piece of the Internet.
This is why I can't stress enough how important it is to have someone edit your writings. Otherwise, mistakes like this can happen.

Good Enough

A couple people I've spoken with who claim to be agnostic like to argue that it is impossible to know who God is and what he really expects from us (such as which beliefs about him or her are "right") and yet assure me that when they die God will surely give them a pass because they are good people. The criteria for their goodness is an oft repeated refrain: "I haven't murdered or raped or stolen from anyone."

Well, if this is the criteria for what makes a good person, then our expectations are pathetically low.

What makes a good person? Say we have man who hasn't murdered, raped, or stolen from anyone but regularly beats his wife? While the agnostics mentioned above wouldn't say he's a good person, wife-beaters justify their actions all the time: "Aw, honey, you know you shouldn't make me mad, I just can't control myself," "I'm just so crazy about you, you know I really love you," bringing their victims flowers and chocolates after planting black eyes on their faces.

Clearly this is an extreme example, but my point is that anyone can convince themselves that they are good people, because their circumstances are unique and therefore justify their actions. And the problem is, if God is unknowable, how can you ever be sure you meet his criteria?

Puppies are a lot of work

Morgan seems to think that the best time to wake up in the morning is at 5:30, although today she was feeling especially perky and decided she need to go out at 4:15. This resulted in a sleep-addled argument between me and Taylor that sounded something like this:

"Mmm, the dog ... is awake ... Taylor ... ?"

"..."

"Taylor! The dog is awake!"'

"(Yawn) What do you ... want to do?"

"I want ... to sleep ..."

"What ... about the dog?"

"Hmmm ... she should sleep too."

"I think she has to use the bathroom."

"You're probably right."

"So?"

"So what?"

"(Sigh) Fine, I'll take her!"

I stayed in bed while Taylor took Morgan out to "eliminate" and the whole time I kept thinking that I really should be doing something useful to help, like sleeping, wait no, I should get her breakfast ready, or, go back to sleep, or maybe I could check her kennel and see if she needed a new blanket, or maybe I should just stay asleep. In the end, I decided the best option was sleeping.

If you think that was unfair of me, don't worry. At 6:30 it was my turn to take Morgan out while Taylor slept on, and now I tired and yet too awake to fall back to sleep. So while now I'm watching bleary-eyed as Morgan runs circles around my couch with my shoe. I know there's something I should be doing to address this situation, but exactly what hasn't yet occurred to me.

Headlines!

Sadly, this has never happened to me.

Twisted Movie Trailers

We got a puppy!

They say the first step before having a baby is getting a puppy. Well, we're not having a baby anytime soon, but after much reflection, such as "Am I really willing to get up off my lazy butt and walk a dog every day?" and "Do we really want another furry thing that poops?" we decided we are ready. We're ggot a puppy we've named Morgan (in keeping with our British car theme). She is an adorable, 10-week old puggle. What is a puggle, you ask? Here's a handy diagram my mother found for me.
As you can see, puggle is a combination of something cute with something ugly, resulting, interestingly enough, in something very cute. In spite of the fact that my whole life now revolves around Morgan's "elimination schedule," she's been great to have around. I've met more neighbors in the past three days than the past month.

It's Morgan!



Morgan meeting the kids next door.

Free Love and Marriage

What a shocker that some of these women find a life of free-loving promuscuity "empty." Perhaps arranged marriages are the solution. Or not. My mother and I can't agree on clothing choices, and as my middle-school romances demonstrate, she often felt more empathy for the guys I rejected than me.

"Now Meghan," she'd say, "he's a nice boy. Don't crush his spirits."
My dad disagreed. "Crush his spirits, girl! Crush 'em!"

She'd probably set me up with a guy because she felt sorry for him. Although, if my parents had been serious about arranging my marriage with the handsome Lt. Caleb Cage, son of their close friends, I might have gone for it.

Harry Potter: No longer fun?

I wanted to select an entertaining book to read at the laundromat, so I went to my bookcase and immediately my eyes were drawn to my colorful Harry Potter series (all in paperback, except for the last one, which was given to me by my mother-in-law. It broke the conformity, but I'm never one to turn down a free $30.00 book). I thought about reading The Half-Blood Prince, after all, Book Seven is coming out next month, it would be good to be prepared. But I knew finishing it would be a commitment, and I wasn't sure I wanted to relive Dumbledore's death again. So down to Book Five, but no, it's even longer, and Sirius dies in that. Book Four, the longest of all, and Cedric dies, which no one really cared about, but still depressing. Book Three has always been my favorite, but I've read it a bunch of times, Book Two is the silliest of all the plot lines and my least favorite, and Book One is just a little boring, I haven't read it in five years. What was I to do? I had to read something at the laundromat, otherwise some greasy weird guy might try to talk to me. I scanned the books again, weighing the pros and cons of each.

In the end, I grabbed First Rider's Call and went on my way.

Harry Potter Theme Park

Sweet!

Another Pic

The Ghostly Bride. The portrait is her back in life. She's supposed to have whithered away in an attic, so I tried to make her skinny and angular. I've never been very good at drawing flowing dresses, but I'm fairly happy with how it came out. Let me know what you think!

Yet another amusing liberal how-to

I'm going to stereotype here, but this seems like typical liberal drivel. It's interesting to see how the other side sees me. And I find it down right amusing how this article completely confirms what I believe about most of them. Aw well, at least we agree we can still be friends (after the author has done his best to belittle me, of course).

Summer Shopping

I am not a fan of the new summer fashions. Perhaps the designers were watching
too many Jane Austen movies, because every single top and dress are the empire-waist style that only look good on skinny models, and just barely at that. When something doesn't look that great on the model who's supposed to be selling you shallow dreams of trendiness, you know something has gone horribly wrong.

This may surprise you, but I, Meghan, am not a skinny model, so my dressing room experience was especially bad. I am convinced that dressing room mirrors are designed to give you the worst naked-body image possible so you'll hurry up and put on clothes to cover yourself up. Unfortunately, all the clothes I tried on managed to make me look worse than naked.

The problem is that I have no discernible torso. My rib cage practically meets with my pelvis. So the last thing I need is an outfit that says "Waist-lines are for losers, lets hide your shape!"

I know that fashion runs in cycles, so if I'm patient enough all the empire waist tops, skinny jeans, and tight leggings will soon be gone and I can start enjoying shopping again in about 10 years. Unless some crazy fashion designer decides to bring back hoops skirts. They make my hips look big.

Haunted Mansion Fanart

My friend Chris is writing a musical based on the Disney ride "the Haunted Mansion." It's much like the movie, except it has a plot, people dance and sing, and it doesn't involve Eddie Murphy. I'd like to contribute, but since I have no skills when it comes to music, I content myself with drawing pictures. You can read Chris' musical here. And you should, it's very entertaining!

The female lead, Caroline, being attended to by ghosts. She is wearing shoes, rather than being a hoofed creature.


The male lead, Jamison, after discovering the Haunted Mansion is, indeed, haunted. Ghosts are rather harder to draw than I thought.

Taylor was my fashion consultant for Jamison, since he used to be a "happy goth/punk" himself. If you're wondering, Jamison is wearing checkered Vans. Taylor used to have a pair, and he's trying to convince me to let him get another.

More pics will come later when I feel like it! :)

My Cat

This creature, also know as my cat Healey, is normally a pleasant,
if vocal animal. He must have some Siamese in him, because he seems to think he can really communicate to us is he just talks long enough. While not the most desirable trait in a cat, he could be evil, so I guess I should be grateful. Except, for some reason, Healey decided the best time of day to share his thoughts is at four in the morning. This is by no means acceptable, but we haven't figured out how to make him stop. It's not a cute, inquisitive "mew" either, but a loud and long plaintive cry. Yet when Taylor and I managed to drag ourselves out of bed, we find out he's usually crying for nothing. He doesn't need food or water, he's not injured. No, he just wants to hang out with us. At four in the morning.

Our current battle plan is spraying him with a water bottle every time he cries in the middle of the night, but he's gotten to the point where he'll just take the punishment and carry on with his behavior. I don't know what to do. I'm getting very cranky from the interrupted sleep. I'm considering looking into voice-box removal, but I think that might be just a tad drastic at this time.

Taylor kindly pointed out to me this morning that this is what having a baby is going to be like, but I protested it would be different.

"How?" He asked.

I didn't have an answer.

The New Apartment

Some of you have asked, so here's an album with pics to my new apartment! Yay! Be sure to write nice things, like how much you admire my taste. :)

I'm back!

I've been without the Internet for nearly two weeks, which is such a shame because during that time I had so many droll observations that I wasn't able to post for your amusement. To make up for that, here is best news headline I've seen in days: "Squirrel goes on rampage, injures 3."

Those of us who went to Harding know how evil squirrels can be.

And now, it seems that I have my very own evil squirrel living in the tree by my apartment. Look at those eyes! Evil!

Moving

I've been comparing this year's move to last year. Last year I was moving across the country, carefully wrapping all my possessions in paper and packing them tightly in little boxes. This year, I'm only moving across town, so I've just been throwing everything in my KIA and taking it over the new apartment whenever I have free time. This move has been much smoother and less stressful than last year for sure. I do have one complaint however. My new apartment is on the third floor, and my legs are killing me! It's like an evil StairMaster.

I was chastised by our IT guy for being so out of shape. I admitted I do lead a rather sedentary lifestyle, but I was trying to be better about exercising. In my defense however, I think anyone except for a triathlon athlete would be feeling the burn if they were carrying heavy boxes up and down three flights of stairs eight times a day for a whole week. At least, I'd like to think so ...

So Gross I Had to Share it!

I try to keep my house reasonably clean, but for some reason my coffee pot always escapes my notice. I'll open my coffee filter and find that I left the used coffee grounds inside, which is usually accompanied by a little mold. If you are a person who always cleans their filter every time they use it, then you probably don't realize just how effective coffee grinds are for growing mold. If I ever decide to grow my own penicillian, I know exactly how to do it.

After running out of coffee filters, I haven't bothered to make coffee in probably two months. That means the filter from my last coffee making was left there to mold. When I finally pulled it out, I was shocked to discover a rainbow of mold had taken residence there. But the grossest, and yet oddly fascinating, part was this strange white mold that had the texture and smell of mushroom. It had completely filled the bottom of the filter bowl, and clung to the sides so tightly I could barely pull it out. Here's the final kicker: In that white mold, I discovered tiny, translucent inch-worms! GROSS! The filter - worms, mold, and all - quickly went into a sink of boiling water and bleach, where it will remain indefinitely.

What I don't understand is how the worms got in there. I understand that the air contains mold spores that are floating around looking for coffee grounds to latch onto, but could there possible be "larvae spores" floating around? Am I breathing larvae spores even as I type this? GROSS!

It's making me question my doubts about spontaneous generation.

You may be wondering if I am going to use that coffee maker again. Of course, it's a Gevalia!

Celebrity Emmissions

So, Leo Dicaprio is warning that the human race is facing extinction. Maybe if climate change occured as suddenly as depicted in The Day after Tomorrow, then this would be true. But really, Leo darling, have a little more faith in your fellow man. Surely we'll be able to adapt enough to start driving hybrids and installing solar panals on our mansions just like you. Heck, maybe more Hollywood celebrities will start following your example and flying on commercial airliners ... but I doubt it. It seems that to the "special people," the ones who really need changing are the ignorant, unwashing masses, aka, their fan base.

Lost

One of the biggest fears I struggle with is being lost. It started back when I was probably 8-years-old and I went to the San Diego Zoo with my family. My parents, burdened with my two little brothers and their strollers, diaper bags, and other accessories that seem to come with an infant and a toddler, gave permission for my older brother and me to go through the bird exhibit by ourselves. They thought this was a pretty safe choice, the bird exhibit was one big circle, with the entrance and exit door side by side. Well, me being me, I managed to the one exit on the opposite side of the exhibit. I ran out the door, flushed with excitement, only to not find my family. I was scared, but decided to look around for them just in case. I wandered around that section of the park, until finally coming across a school field trip group. I went up to the lady directing the tour (I could tell she worked for the zoo because of her safari outfit) and said pitifully, "I'm lost."

As you can surmise by the fact that I'm here writing this, the lady was not a cleverly disguised kidnapper, so she took me to the security office where I struggled to remember my mom's real name ("Her name is Mom, no, Karen, um ...). The zoo blasted my mom's name over the loudspeaker, telling her to fetch her wayward child.

Even though everything turned out all right, I still have real fear of being lost. Even when I'm in my car, if I'm in an unfamiliar section of town, I start feeling anxious. This is really difficult when you move to a new city, because every section of town is unfamiliar.

With my job as a real estate agent, I'm forced to go somewhere new every day, something I used to hate, but actually turned out to be a blessing. After living here for 11 months, I know how to get around Quincy, no problem. I know main routes, back roads, and short cuts.

I guess most of life is about facing fears, but it's a long process, and I don't know if I'll ever truly conquer it. I got an invitation to an event in Boston from my friend Taylor, and the first thing I wanted to know is if we would travel together. There ain't no way I'm risking walking through Boston on my own! But I guess the important thing isn't exorcising the fear, but being willing to face it so you can move on with life.

DRAMA! Part II

And now for the exciting conclusion ...

Okay, so in the previous super-long post, I told you about the drama that when on trying to rent my old apartment. Now here's the drama happened while trying to rent my new apartment. To be honest, this post might be a little anti-climatic, since this drama isn't quite as dramatic as the first drama, but given that in real life they occurred at the same time, it all added to one very dramatic week and a gray hair on Meghan's head (Uh-oh, you know things are bad when she starts referring to herself in the third person).

This super special awesome apartment was listed by my fellow agent Carol just a little before May, with the landlady hoping for a May 1 rent. Now, this landlady is 89-years-old, and very sweet, although she's sharp as a tack. Although she was hoping for a May 1 rent, she didn't want to bother the current occupants by allowing Carol to show the apartment while they were still living there. Carol tried to point out that that would made it difficult to rent the apartment for May, but the landlady was insistent. So, May 1 comes and goes, the former tenants are now out, and the apartment is vacant. Carol was scheduled to visit the apartment and take pictures, and I asked to tag along, since I would soon be in the market for an apartment.

Well, it was love at first sight. I wanted this apartment. Problem was, it was only May, and I was stuck in my lease until the end of June. So I decided to wait and see what happened. My hopes were crushed that weekend when Carol said she found a tenant for the apartment - some police officer with a dog and a girlfriend. A week passed while Carol negotiated the deal, and then ... it fell through. I was hopeful again, only to learn that Carol has two female roommates waiting in the wings to take the apartment. My hopes of getting this apartment again looking pretty hopeless, but once again, the deal fell through.

I knew this was either God, or a happy coincidence, but either way I knew I had to pounce on this apartment right away. So I called up Taylor (who happened to have the day off that day) and told him we were going to see an apartment.

Taylor loved it, like I knew he would, and we immediately went down and made an offer for a June 15 move-in. The landlady was reluctant - she'd really want someone in there June 1 - but she liked us so she agreed.

That weekend Taylor and I scheduled for a check for the down payment to be sent from our online bank on Monday, thinking is would arrive on Wednesday to my agency. All that was left now was to wait.

Tuesday comes, and I get a call from the landlady. She asked me what was going on, if I was really going to rent this apartment. I said I fully intended to rent the apartment, I was just waiting for my bank to get me my money. She said that she had someone else call her about the apartment because of a sign in her window, and since she didn't have a deposit from me, she was going to response to that call. I told her she would be getting not just a deposit, but the full amount (15 days of June and security) tomorrow. She was happy, and we hung up.

Taylor and my original plan was to move in on the 15th of June, and move out of the old apartment June 30th. We'd only be losing half a month, but it would be worth it. However, when the check from my bank didn't arrive on Wednesday as planned, the wheels in my mind staring whirling.

I figured that if we could get out of our lease 15 days early (and surely Landlord and Mrs. Landlord wouldn't care about that!) then we could move into new apartment June 1st, and we'd still just be out one month's rent like we planned, but we could move a whole lot earlier. Taylor said that was a smashing plan (okay, he's not British, so he didn't literally say "smashing," but the sentiment was there) and we took out another half month's rent in cash. We called up new landlady and told her we were coming by with a deposit. She said "great."

However, on our way there, Bob, my boss called, and said new landlady called him and said she wasn't comfortable with us coming over without Carol there. He advised us just to wait until tomorrow. We agree. I go back to the office, where landlady calls again asking why Taylor and I hadn't arrived at her home yet. I told her was Bob told me, and she said "I never said that!" I then told her we'd have all the money tomorrow, and Carol would be with us, and we'd wrap up the whole thing.

Thursday comes. The leases are written. I'm still waiting for my check to arrive, and for Carol to get back from her other job. I'm was so nervous I jumped at every footfall, thinking it was the mailman with my check. Then, landlady calls, and she asks why we hadn't arrived yet (again). She said she thought we had an appointment at 1:00. I said we had an appointment for the afternoon, but we never set a specific time. She then said she was confused her commission (you can imagine how I reacted to that). I handed her over to Bob, and he tried to explain, but she's an old Irish gal, and she decided to haggle the commission. Billy, Carol's husband, was quite upset by this, and he said we shouldn't negotiate, and I said "No! Whatever you, DON'T LOSE MY APARTMENT!"

Landlady and Bob come to an agreement - he took fifty bucks off for her - and finally, my check arrives, along with Taylor. We're now waiting for Carol. An hour passes and she finally breezes in. "Well, let's get going."

Of course, anyone knows that when a whole group of people try to "get going" it takes awhile. We arrive at the new apartment at 3:30, the money is paid, the leases are signed, and Taylor and I breathe a sigh of relief because we are finally in!

DRAMA!

I've been feeling that I really need to get back into the swing of posting regularly again, but after achieving nine comments on my bathroom post, I kinda feel like I reached my peak as a blogger. In reality, I've been experience some drama at work lately, and after re-hashing said drama with real life friends and family, it's exhausting trying to type it out again.

However, for posterity's sake, I'll try.

Through my connections as a real estate agent, I found the most super special awesome apartment ever!. It's the top floor of a Victorian three-family for only $850 and that's with heat included! For those of you who live down South and are thinking "she's excited about paying only $850 a month?" let me assure you that it's a steal around here. The average nice one bedroom apartment (nice being defined as clean, relatively up-dated appliances, and no scary paint colors, ceiling cracks, or grubby floors) right now is renting for $925, and that without any utilities included at all. Usually these apartment are located in bulky, large buildings that have not character or style (but they're functional). If you want something in a multi-family, which usually have the pluses of being in a residential neighborhood, have yards, and are much more attractive, you can pay up to $1,000. So yeah, this was the apartment opportunity of a lifetime, and I jumped on it like a kid belly-flopping into a pool.

Like most belly-flops, there was pain involved. The landlady who owns the super special awesome apartment wanted a June 1 move date, and my lease isn't up until June 30th. Never fear! I schemed that if I was willing to sacrifice 1/2 a month's rent, (and who wouldn't for this apartment?) Then I could start my new lease at June 1st if my current landlord was willing to let me leave my old lease just two weeks early.

I didn't feel that was too unreasonable, was it?

Well, he didn't either, provided I find a tenant who was willing to move-in on the 15th so he wouldn't lose out on half a month's rent, perfectly understandable.

Here's the rub - my landlord is also a client of my boss, who is a real estate broker. I was immediately trapped in a very awkward position. You see, as a tenant, I am obligated to find a replacement tenant (or else pay until the end of June). As a real estate agent, I am obligated to collect commission for my services finding a tenant. Both my boss and my landlord believed I should fulfill my obligations.

Well, I found a tenant right away. She was the perfect tenant - single, hardworking, middle-age woman with great credit. It seemed like everything was going to work out just fine. Until the tricky issue of commission came up.

My boss and I both felt that since my apartment was scheduled to go on market July 1st, and any tenant we provided for that time would earn us a fair commission. However, even though it went on the market two weeks early, a tenant was found, and therefore no rent was lost. Therefore, since we advertised the property, we ran the credit, we checked the references, and we presented this great tenant, we were full entitled to our full commission.

The landlord, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, the landlord's wife, didn't agree. She felt I should suffer some penalty for leaving two weeks early even though they weren't suffering any monetary loss of any kind. So she and my boss then engaged in a battle over commission that lasted several days.

Meanwhile, I couldn't sleep, I'm was hounded by my tenant who kept calling me asking "What's going on? Am I in, am I not? Do I need to bring in my attorney?" I nearly had a panic attack when the word "attorney" was brought up.

Finally, I called Mrs. Landlord myself and informed her that, as I only keep 40 percent of whatever commissions I bring into the company, the current negotiated commission of $200 was so low that I probably wasn't going to see a red cent of that money, and that my boss was really just fighting for his share, not mine. The revelation that I wasn't going to get paid after all seemed to make a difference. The deal finally closed, and I am out of this crappy apartment come June 14th!

You would think this was enough drama for one week, but no, there's more, and it involves the super special awesome apartment and what it took to actually make it mine. But that will have to wait for another time. So be sure to tune in next time for DRAMA! Part II.

Apartment Hunting with Chris

A comic just for Chris!

Incompetency at its Finest.

The building where my office is located leaves a couple things to be desired, mainly toilet paper and paper towels in the bathroom. In response to our many complaints about the lack of both in the facilities, our landlady hired a crew to install automatic paper towel dispensers and t.p. holders in the bathroom.

Now, I understand critical thinking is not everyone's strong point, but that doesn't explain this:


Yes, that is the toilet paper holder above the sink, and the paper towel dispenser in front of the toilet. I can't even begin to imagine the thought process that must have went into this job. Clearly it was one on par with most government workers.

"Well, I'm not sure where to hang the towel dispenser. Well, this wall is bare, I'll hang it on front of the toilet. Oh no, now I don't have room for the toilet paper dispenser, because I can't possibly hang two dispensers on one wall. Oh, I know, I'll put this one over the sink. Boy, oh boy, and my mother said I'd never amount to anything."

Well, everyone in the building had a good laugh over this. At least now we won't run out of toilet paper as quickly, even if we do have to stand up and walk over to the sink to get it.

Grocery Shopping

Went grocery shopping with Jen yesterday. Like so many chores, buying groceries is always better when done with a friend. However, it seems that everytime I go to the store, I manage to grab the one cart that has a wheel problem. At first, it's barely noticible. Then, as you start packing more and more items into the cart, it becomes more and more unmanagable. Now, I know I have a flair for the dramatic, but I'm being very literal here when I say that I had to wrestle with that cart like it was a two-year-old kid. In other words, everywhere I wanted to go, the cart wouldn't go, and instead would veer off on it's own, usually bumping into people on the way. It's bad enough using all you weight to steer a cart away from an 80-year-old lady in an almost hopeless attempt to avoid knocking her over. It's worse doing this in front of an audience. But it's even more worse when a memeber of this audience is your good friend who was trying to nice by suggesting you go shopping together.

More Zombie Fun!

I promise I'll get off this kick, but I couldn't resist. In the comments of Last Blood I found a Zombie Simulator that shows how quickly a zombie infection could spread through a population.

Zombies

Of all the horror creatures out there, I think the creepiest are zombies. It's not really the zombies themselves that are so horrifying, but what they represent. In every zombie movie I've seen, there's always a terrible sense of hopelessness. Will we survive the night or be eaten and turned into the very things we're fighting? And even if we survive, will life in a zombie-infested world be worth living?

Plus, I have a sneaking suspicion that zombie movies are really just an excuse for us to watch people killing other people. It's okay that I blew this guy's head off, he was a zombie!

And yet, I can't stay away from the morbid genre. So, that being said, here's some fun zombie stuff I've found.

The Last Stand

For your reading delight, an online comic I've been following entitled Last Blood.

And a clip from Sean of the Dead, which, if you haven't seen, you should. (Caution - There are some Swears in this Scene).

Being Upwardly Mobile and All That ...

Megan Basham has an interesting article about feminists complaining that most women are choosing or preferring being stay-at-home moms over advancing in their careers, and because of this, are somehow being taken advantage of and should still receive wages equivalent to those of men who work full-time and overtime. Which is silly, obviously. But it reminded me again of how feminists have long struck me as a minority who claim to represent a majority, yet has no real idea what that majority actually wants (kind of like the current Republican party leadership). However, while feminists promote girls learning math and science, most women continue to seek degrees in the "soft sciences," like biology, or English, or medieval French art, or whatever. It's not because girls are not capable of learning or enjoying math, some certainly do, but I think there is evidence that most girls do not enjoy them. In the same way, while there are certainly women who do not want, or even like all that much, children, and are willing to dedicate their lives to shaping a powerful career, most women genuinely want to stay home, make babies, and then make cookies for those babies to eat. I know that's what I want to do.

This thing is, our current feminist culture makes me feel guilty for not wanting a career. I really don't enjoy being in the workplace. It's not that I'm lazy, or unintelligent, or "brainwashed by a paternalist, masochistic society/religion." It's just not where my interests and passions lie. Whenever I picture my future, there are babies and pies and reading and writing and providing a home for my husband. I got my degree because it's alway good to have a back-up plan, but I think my primary plan is a pretty good one. So why isn't it good enough for the so-called "women's movement"?

A Note Worthy Event

I got a front row parking spot at Wal-Mart. Nuff' said.

Camping Fun

Taylor had his first weekend off in about a month, so he chose to celebrate by taking us camping. Now, people have many different ideas of what constitutes "camping." For some, camping is taking an RV to a outdoorish area and basically enjoying all the amenities of home in the woods. For others, camping is driving up to a designated area and pitching a tent about twenty feet from your car. And for Taylor, camping is hiking for twelve hours into the middle of nowhere and then setting up camp, living off the fruits of the land. That is not my idea of camping. Fortunately for whimpy me, we could only find the "pitch your tent twenty feet from you car" kind of camping.

Now, I don't want to give the wrong impression. I was really looking forward to camping, just not the hiking in the wilderness part. Things started off really well. We got our camp site set up, a fire going, and then started carving our sticks for roasting hot dogs. My carving was going well, until I came across a stubborn knot in the wood. I slid the knife toward me (a major no no, I know). The knife bounced off the knot and right into my knuckle. I've never bled so much in my life before. I turned to Taylor and said "Um, Taylor, I need some help." Taylor was rather concerned because at this point my entire hand was covered in blood.

"Put pressure on it!"
"I am! But my hand is really gross, can't I wash it off?"
"No, hold your finger, now!"
We weren't able to get a picture of the event, as we were performing first aid, so here is a dramatic re-enactment.

We got the finger bandaged up, and everything went smoothly from there. Until I added some more logs to the fire. I felt a burn on my finger, and took my hand out from the fire pit. The pain, however, continue. It took me a couple seconds to realize my bandage was on fire. I threw the bandage off, and it flew like a flaming arrow into a pile of pine needles. After stomping out the pine needle fire, I tended my wounded finger with ice. It was rather pathetic.

That was the most dramatic thing that occurred. The rest of the trip went rather well. We definately plan on doing it again. Except for the severing my finger part.

The Wii is Gone Again

Divination is Easy!

It's nice to know that you, even you(!), can master reading tea leaves with a little practice. It seems odd to me that something that supposed to be a powerful as predicting someone's future can be gained from mere intuition and practice. It's seems cheap, or fraudulent, for some reason.

Yet this stuff holds a strange facination for me, one that I try not to indulge. If I weren't a Christian, I suspect I would be the wackiest neo-pagan you've ever met.

The Dove

I was driving from an appointment in Quincy back to Wollaston, where I work. As I was going along Newport Ave. I saw a row of cars in the lane to my right just stopped. I was trying to figure out what they were doing with suddenly a beautiful, white dove flew from the right lane. The cars were obviously trying to avoid it. And then I hit it. Not on purpose! The stupid thing flew (in vain) right in front of my car. I didn't have time to stop. It's probably a good thing too, because if I had tried to stop, or serve, I would have caused an accident. Bird of peace or no, I think it was the one that had to be sacrificed. So the bird crashed into my car with a loud BUMP! and I had a fleeting hope that it might be OK until I saw it fluttered lifelessly down to the left hand lane. It was not going to be performing magic tricks ever again.

I was torn between a conflict of emotion. On one hand, I was sad that I killed something so frail and beautiful, and on the other, I really thought the whole thing was kinda funny. In the end, the humor won out. I know, I know, I'm a bad person. But you know you think it's funny too.

"Why Meghan, why?"

My Grandma and Grandpa Are the Best!

I just got off the phone with my step-father's mother and step-father (my family tree is a little complicated). I only mention the "step" part for clarity, not because it's a terribly important distinction. But then again, it is kind of important, because even though we're not related by blood, I can't imagine having a more caring set of grandparents. My papa (step-dad) married my mom when I was about five-years-old. It was a difficult transition, but I remember how totally my Grandma Carla and Grandpa Juergen embraced my brother and me as their own, in spite of the many "real" grandchildren they already had.

One of my most treasured pieces of jewelry is a red stone ring my Grandma Carla gave me. She said it belonged to her mother, and she wanted me to have it.

I hesitated accepting it. "Are you sure you want to give it to me? Wouldn't you rather give it to Sarah or one of your real granddaughters?"

She looked me square in the eye and said "You are as real to me as any of my other grandchildren. I want you to have it."

It bring tears to my eyes even as I type this. I dealt with a lot of issues in my childhood, but having such a great family, formed by love rather than genetics, has helped me have a great life. Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa!

Sunday Treat

PG version of 300. Enjoy!

Bill and Carol's Wedding

Taylor and I went to my co-workers' wedding today. I have one complete sentence for you: Open bar and open menu. Good times were had by all.

Friday the 13th!

I feel obliged to mention that today is Friday the 13th and all the implications thereof, but I just don't have anything new or exciting to add. So I'll just post of picture of my black cat.
Oooo! Making ya nervous, aren't I?

Fenway Park

Yesterday Taylor took me to my first Red Sox game. He was more excited about it than I was, especially after I saw the forecast was 100 percent chance of rain and discomfort. But we bucked up and took the hour-long T ride to Fenway anyway, because we felt there was a slight chance a miracle could happen and that ball players would leave the Jacuzzis in their lockers and play a nice game in the rain. After all, we dedicated fans were there, waiting for them! Also waiting were the dedicated vendors, who, rain or shine, are willing to overcharge you for hot dogs, beer, and candy. Giving in the atmosphere of the occasion, Taylor and I bought our Fenway Franks, a pretzel, and a big ol' bag cotton candy and waited in our cold, wet seats for the team to come out.

As you probably guessed, the team did not come out, but they waited an hour before informing us of the inevitable rain delay. I suspect delayed long enough to make sure fans spent as much as they were going to on food.

Even though we got wet and cold, we still had a good time. The make-up game is set for May 3. You'll see us there, buying more Franks, pretzels, and cotton candy. After all, it's for our team.

The Great Diet Weigh-Down

My boss Bob and I are in a little competition to see who can loss 10 percent of their body weight by the 4th of July. So far, I've lost three out of 16, he's lost six out of 23. $100.00 is up for grabs for the biggest loser! And for once, I want it to be me!

This is Why I Don't Like Going to the Doctor

because they always tell you something you don't want to hear! I went in for a routine checkup, and they did some blood work. I just got the results back yesterday. I have high cholesterol! My total is 273 (the chart says abnormal). My good cholesterol is at 62, which is good, but my bad is at 195, which is very high. I feel so depressed. I'm too young to be having this sort of problem! High cholesterol is a problem my parents have, not me! Of course, the worst part is not the diagnoses, but the remedy. Basically, no good tasting food ever again.

They sent me a food chart to help my sort my food.
Good Food: Everything you don't like . Bad Food: Everything you do like. Simple, huh?

It doesn't help that aspartame gives me headaches, which means many of the so-called "fat-free" stuff is off limits too. Taylor's been trying to cheer me up by telling me how much healthier we'll be by "eating like adults" now. But I have to wonder, is giving up everything I love really worth my health? If I die of a heart attack eating a Boston Creme Doughnut, wouldn't it be worth it?

Okay, maybe not.

There's no fighting it anymore. I'm really going to have to make some changes, and now that I know I could have real health issues, it really become more real to me. Bummer. Now it's time for me to say my goodbyes.

Me:"Well, Butter, we had some good times together, but we're going to have to break it off."
Butter: "But why?"
Me: "You're just not good for me. I have to make some changes."
Butter: "You'll never have anything as good as me! Margarine can't satisfy you like I can!"
Me: "Why do you have to make this harder than it already is?"
Butter: ".... Can we still be friends?"
Me: "Maybe we can get together sometime next week. For breakfast. I'll bring Pancakes."

Getting High?

I hate to be cavalier about such a serious topic such as drug use, but as I'm currently under the influence of over-the-counter cold medication, so I don't really care. Unfortunately for me, the "influence" hasn't been a very postive one, leaving me questioning how people get hooked on medication in the first place.

Take codiene for instance. I apparently have an allergy to codiene. I discovered this after getting my wisdom teeth pulled out and recieving hydracodiene as a pain reliver. I suppose you could say that my constant vomiting took my mind off the pain in my gums, but it wasn't a pleasant experience overall. Yet, hundreds of people sneak into pharmacies trying to con poor techs (as I once was) into giving them these pills so they can get "high." What highs are they experiencing exactly? Does nausea result in an endorphine rush that I wasn't aware of? And why doesn't my body release these endorphines?

The other one I don't get pseudoephedrine, which as you know if often used to make meth or speed ( I know this from having lived White County "Meth Capital of the World," Arkansas, not from experience, thank you). When I take my single pill to relieve allergies, I don't experience anything resembling a high, unless you count the vauge, out of body experience I have all day. But feeling sluggish and slow and yet being able to type over 500 words-per-minute is still not my idea of a good time. Right now, I'd much rather be sleeping, or at worst, watching daytime television, but instead I'm stuck at work trying to focus on what clients are saying over the phone.

Client: "Hello, I'm looking for a one bedroom apartment."
Me: "You want a what?"
Client: "A one bedroom apartment."
Me: "Oh, an apartment. And how many bedrooms do you need?"

In between phone calls and posting listings on craigslist (which on average, takes about 30 minutes to load pictures) I'm getting out my nervous energy by typing out this post as fast as I can.

And people take these drugs for fun? I just don't get it. But I guess that's a good thing. I'd hate to become a cold medicine junkie.

Dishonesty at Work

Real estate agents have a reputation for being dishonest, and to be honest, it's true. Most of the people I work with are more than happy to cheat on their taxes, make promises they can't necessarily keep, and flat-out lie when convenient. My co-workers confidently assure me that I too will exhibit these unsavory traits soon enough, to which I reply "No way!"

It's difficult, however. They say you become like the company you keep. So how do I live as a light for Christ when the people I'm trying to influence for good are also trying to influence me for ill? I'm pretty open about my religious beliefs, but most my co-workers are either also "religious" or openly secular and "tolerant," so they don't care about what I believe.

What I hope will happen is that I will become like a Joseph to Potiphar. I hope that my efforts to do what I believe God expects of me, even if they don't appear financially advantageous, will result in successful business year. Maybe that will show the people I work with that God provides for his children, and that what seems foolish to man is actually the key a full life.

The Spencers are Here!

So, our friends the Spencers are here visiting. They are planning on moving to Quincy at the end of May, so right now I'm showing them apartment that won't be around by the time they move. But at least now they know their options.

Headlines of the Day

Some news days are just better than others. Today was headline gold! Out of a favorite of mine, wikihow, comes How to Safely Swim with Piranhas. Because who hasn't wanted to swim with piranhas? It's been a silent ambition of mine for years.

From Reuters comes Lawmakers may ban texting while driving. Now, this is probably a good law to pass. I just don't understand how it's possible to text while driving. I have trouble enough texting while sitting down. "Okay, 'D-O-Space-Y-O-U-Space-W-A-N-T-Space-P-I-Z-Z-A-Space ...' Forget this, I'm just gonna call him!"

Finally, the winner comes from CNN with Police: Man swiped 1,500 women's undies. And this whole time you thought the dryer was eating them. The best line of the story is "We were kind of concerned about how to match up bras and panties with victims." I would think the patterns would help. *Snicker* I don't even want to know what this guy was doing with 93 pounds worth of panties, although I imagine it was something like this:

The Tragic Tale of Trying to Find a Bathroom in Medford

Taylor, Chris, and I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday to browse the bookstores and use up the balance of my gift cards ($16.22). While there, we sat about talked about the issues of the day and drank coffee at the cafe. I felt very yuppie and cool all at the same time. However, an hour later we were were driving home I felt a lot less cool and a lot like I had to go to the bathroom, which I did. Have to go that is, not actually go in Chris' car. Gross. Anyway. I thought we were headed to Chris' house, so the bulging bladder was no big, because relief was soon in sight. Somehow though, the guys made some agreement without my knowledge to go to the Cingular store and activate Taylor's cellphone. We pulled in the the parking lot and I thought "Wait a second, this place doesn't look like it has a bathroom." I was right. Chris and I abandoned Taylor to the mercy of the salesman (Taylor has a serious loathing for cellphone salesman) and when in search of a bathroom. The salesman warned us that we would have difficulty as "places around here don't allow people to use their restroom 'cuz they're afraid they'll shoot up." With that in mind, Chris and I tried to look at little like junkies as possible and headed to a gas station down the street. No bathroom. We then briefly considered barging into "The Tiki Lounge," but I didn't have to go bad enough to overcome my reservations about peeing in a nice restaurant without ordering a $10.00 meal first. So we then got lost trying to make our way back to some other stores we saw on the way to the gas station. By this time I hit critical mass. When we finally pulled in the parking lot I tuck-and-rolled out of the car into a laundry mat, reasoning that in a place where people has to sit for hour there would surely be a bathroom. I was wrong again. I had only one hope left. The Subway. I has doubtful as most Subway's I've been to didn't have public bathrooms. I was ready to shout "I swear I don't shoot up!" in case anyone tried to stand in my way of using an employees' only room. Thankfully for everyone in the restaurant the restroom was for public use. In my desperation to reach the door in time I literally bunny-hopped inside. Then, blessed relief.

This story is very similar to a horror story, which are really just gruesome morality tales. If I had been smart, I would have gone before we left the bookstore. Instead, I risked it, and almost suffered a tragic end. Learn from me kids. The moral of this story is don't get stuck in Medford with a full bladder. And if you do, just go to Subway. They got ya covered.

Where was This When I Needed it?

Today I saw this post on wikihow: How to Turn Around a Bad Day at Work. Although, I think going to Bible study last night was what I truly needed. Being with the people I love worshiping the God I love can't fail to make me feel better.

Whoa, Emo!

After reading my last post, I realized that it sounded really emo. Please, if I ever get as bad as this, please, please, pull an intervention.

Being Stood Up is No Fun

It's just a part of the business I guess. I have a client who says he is so excited about seeing my listings, and yes, yes, he'll meet me at 3 o'clock sharp. So I wait. 3:10 rolls around, no big. 3:15. 3:25. 3:30. By this time I get the feeling he's not gonna show. If I'm lucky, I'll get a call saying "My bad, I'm not gonna make it. Sorry." around 3:35. If not, by 3:40 I give up and head home longing for some Ben and Jerry's Brownie Batter ice cream. Because if you can't make money, you may as well spend it on expensive, leftist ice cream.

The Science is Settled - Except ...

From NASA. And Mars is getting warmer too. And like everyone else likes to snottily point out, there are no carbon emmissions on Mars. :p

UPDATED! Uh-oh, They're Trying to Convert Us Now!

Was perusing through wikihow this morning, reading How to Make a Sideways Room (new project!) and How to Walk Like a Diva (just in time for beach season), when I stumbled across this gem: How to Constructively Discuss Science with a Creationist . Naturally, "science" in this case is not the Theory of Relativity or the possibilities of building a space elevator, but the Theory of Evolution. Although, I think the former would be a much more amusing conversation.

"You ignorant Christian Seven-Day Creationist! How do you explain the Theory of Relativity?"
"Um, special relativity is a theory of the structure of spacetime. It was introduced in Albert Einstein's 1905 paper "On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies". Special relativity is based on two postulates which are contradictory in classical mechanics:

1. The laws of physics are the same for all observers in uniform motion relative to one another (Galileo's principle of relativity),
2. The speed of light in a vacuum is the same for all observers, regardless of their relative motion or of the motion of the source of the light." (Okay, I totally stole that from wikipedia.)

My favorite "tip" from the article is "Remember, the other person is defending their faithful hope of eternal life and earthly purpose; you're simply defending facts. Because of this, if you remain neutral and rational long enough, many fundamentalists will eventually allow their emotions and fears to take over, and will descend into progressively worse arguments."

Wow, thanks for destroying someone's "hope of eternal life" just so you can win a debate at a party. And they say we are intolerant.

I was going to link to a humorous article written on this topic by my friend of Chris of Narf's Cavern, but I couldn't find it. I'll have to ask him to dig through his archives to I can link to it and you can be impressed by how smart an Intelligent Design proponent can be.

Update: Here is the link I promised, courtesy of Chris.

The Wii is Gone

Snow!

Another Reason Why I Love My Cats

Pure entertainment value!

Sorry about the poor quality. Taylor filmed it using our digital camera. And yeah, that background music is from me playing Zelda.

Sweet!

Study: Playing Violent Video Games Improves Your Eyesight

And here I was thinking video games were making my vision worse. Although, not all video games are equal:

Sedate games like "Tetris" don't work.

Sorry Mom. All I know is right now, I'm having to squint in order to read the dialogue in Zelda: Twilight Princess. But, if I keep playing, my eyesight will get better and better. So, sorry Chris, I can't give you your Wii back. Medical reasons, you understand.