Wander Lustin'

2007-01-16T16:12:00.000-08:00

Hey Kids,
Sitting at work trying not to eat the big bowl of chocolates I keep on my desk to entice people to come visit.
My company issued Crapberry sits on my desk slowing dieing of old age or incompetence (which means the same thing in the tech world). It's lifeblood of ones and zeros oozes from its data port and a fail light blinks red, perhaps electronic for help-help-i'm-a-useless-piece-of-crap-please-replace-me-with-newer-technology. Godspeed little piece of crap...godspeed.

Ipod playing as I watch traffic steadily grow thicker on the 134 below. Thank god I'm not one of those poor commuting slobs.

Don't get me wrong. I have plenty to do. I just have no interest in doing it.

Colleague sent me a link to her blog. In it I found something interesting...ahhh a project!

1. Go to Wikipedia
2. In the Search box, type your birth month and day (but not year).
3. List some events that happened on your birthday.
4. List two important birthdays and one interesting death.
5. List any holidays
6. Post it.

Below is the post for April 2 (i left the links in...incase you were curious)

Events that Happened on my birthday...

In the year 69 - Galba, governor of Hispania, names himself legatus senatus populique Romani, breaking the line of Roman emperors begun with Julius Caesar and Augustus.
(don't you think that is interesting?)

1513 - Juan Ponce de Leon sets foot on Florida becoming the first known European to do so.

1902 - "Electric Theatre", the first full-time movie theater in the United States, opens in Los Angeles, California.

1917 - World War I: U.S. President Woodrow Wilson asks the U.S. Congress for a declaration of war on Germany.

1917 - The first woman ever elected to the U.S. Congress, Jeannette Rankin, takes her seat as a representative from Montana.

1982 - Falklands War: 1982 invasion of the Falkland Islands by Argentina. The disputed islands are later retaken by the United Kingdom.

Birthdays...

1867 - Eugen Sandow, German bodybuilder and circus performer (d. 1925)

1914 - Sir Alec Guinness, English actor (d. 2000)

1938 - Whirlaway, American racehorse, 1941 Triple Crown Winner (d. 1953)

1939 - Marvin Gaye, American singer (d. 1984)

1941 - Dr. Demento, American radio personality

1964 - Patrick Roycroft, Twat (HA! I don't know who that is it was just in the Wikipedia list...it is funny)

Deaths....

1502 - Prince Arthur Tudor, son of Henry VII of England (b. 1486)

1872 - Samuel Morse, American inventor (b. 1791)

2000 - Tommaso Buscetta, Italian gangster (b. 1928)

2005 - Pope John Paul II (b. 1920)

2006-12-26T22:23:00.000-08:00

It is obvious that I have lost interest in the moving story 
I’m trying to keep up with it…but it was so long ago and quite frankly…I want to forget most of it. The nice part (or I should say troubling part) of the story is just about everyone I talk to says they have had a similar experience. Which is exactly why I blog such things; To get out into the public my own story…to hopefully strike an empathetic cord if not start a conversation of sympathy.
The whole blogging thing has really helped me to feel less secluded and alone. Now when I talk to people I haven’t spoke to in ages…I don’t have to worry about whether or not I’ve told them a particular story…we can just jump right in as if we hadn’t been apart at all. Enough about my advertisement for blog (its big its heavy its wood….a slight bastardization for you Ren and Stimpy fans)
Let me finish the moving story with the really funny bit.
OK, so I think I’ve impressed upon you the exact level of Alex’s prick-itude.
From telling me ‘You don’t need that…don’t pack it’ to being a box-nazi, to the non-committal ‘7-21 days for delivery of goods ma’am’
So I get a call from Alex on Wednesday (when they just packed me up on Monday)
“I want to deliver your stuff to you today”
?????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WTF!?
So I tell him that I am not even in California yet. Surprisingly enough…this pissed him off.
He started ranting unintelligibly about where was I…he needs to deliver the stuff as he has to be on the road on Thrusday. Yatta yatta ad nauseam.
This time I was so completely fed up with his attitude that I yelled back.
‘Look Alex, You told me 7-21 days. I’m doing the fucking best I can (thought the F bomb would give me some sort of street cred) No body fucking called me to tell me when you were even coming to pack me up. I made an executive decision based off the shitty information your fucking company didn’t give me. You may not yell at me for ….blah blah blah .
This quieted him down just a bit.
“Look Meghan…I am being sent on a job on Thursday, the only day I have to deliver your stuff is Wednesday”
I told him the truth…that the former tenant isn’t even moved out of the apartment yet and I don’t know what else I can tell him.
This set him off again.
‘What do you want me to do Alex?’
‘I just want to deliver your stuff to you’
on and on this went for like 10 minutes. I want to deliver your stuff to you but I can only deliver it on Wednesday …
You can’t deliver the stuff on Wednesday…I want to…you can’t blah blah.
I didn’t think much about it as I just wanted off the phone with him.

He called me back and told me that some guy by the name of Victor would deliver my stuff on Friday and something about his girlfriend in Utah…how she wants him to come out there. I’m sure he told me more…but I couldn’t, nor did I want to, understand.

I showed up for my ‘first’ day of work on Thursday (yeah that was stupid)
My boss was out on medical leave, so I left early to go buy a bed.

Friday was the day I was to get my stuff delivered. Thank GOD! They were supposed to be there at noon. At 1pm I called Victor. At least I could understand him a little better.
No, sorry I can’t make it…what ever what ever, we will be there at 5 (or something)
More waiting. (nice of you to call me and let me know…jack ass)

When they finally arrived, I forked over all the cash I had (damn that hurt) and the strange foreign men started to haul my shit in.

At the end of the delivery process Victor strikes up a conversation with me.
‘Are you a doctor?’
‘No.’
‘You look like you are a doctor.’
‘OK’

Then it was time to sign the final paper work.
‘So, was your moving experience good…any problems with the guys who packed you…did you like them…were they nice?’
Seeing my chance to get my revenge I thought about all the things I could say about the evil mover and his mute puppet servant, but something in me told me to just mind the karmatic bank account and suck it up. Things could have been WAY worse (and have been for others as many like to point out to me)
‘They were ok, I’m sure it was a long day for them as well’ (didn’t sell them out but didn’t give them a glowing review either)
Victor asked me a few more times if I liked the movers who packed me. I shrugged it off with a kind of agreeable grunt.

He gave me some more papers to sign and as I leaned down to sign them, I noticed he took cell phone out. I also noticed that he didn’t put it up to his ear rather he held it out in front of himself.
Knowing full well what he was intending, I allowed my hair to hang in my face as I signed the paper. I heard the click of his camera phone. Desperate to get these people out of my ‘house’ I played it off like I didn’t hear it.
Victor then decided to own up to the deed at least admit that he took a picture.
In his accent (middle eastern I believe)
‘You look like one of my drivers…Jean’
‘Oh, nice, you have a woman driver?’
‘No no, a man driver.’
Not the most flattering thing a woman can hear in her life time.
‘You’re telling me I look like one of your male furniture movers?!’
‘Oh yes, very pretty man, Gene gets all the women…very pretty man.’
‘Thanks.’ There was no gratitude in my tone.
‘Can I get a picture of you to send to Gene?’
What possessed me to say ‘sure’ I’ll never know. I was tired and didn’t feel like fighting the issue. I’m suspicious that the picture went to Alex.
‘Smile big like Gene’
??? Creepy!
With my picture taken…they were gone! Finally the horrible horrible movers were out of my life for ever. (and there was much rejoicing)

Saturday comes…I’m happily unpacking when my phone rings. I see that it is mover Alex.
‘Hello Alex.’
“Hello Meghan…what are you doing?’
‘Unpacking.’
‘Do you want some help?’
‘No.’
Can you believe it? He called me to ask me if he could come over! What IS it with me and foreign guys???!!! Super Creepy.
The following Thursday as I am getting gas near my appt, when I hear a
‘Hey!’
I assume it isn’t for me and I ignore it. 5 minutes later my phone rings. It is mover Alex. I don’t answer. It is then that I remember that there were some foreign looking men at the gas station. It was probably Alex that said ‘hey’ He called again 2 minutes later, I ignored it again. He didn’t leave a message. Thank god I’ve never heard from him again. I keep his number programmed into my phone incase he ever calls again…I will know it is him Uber creepy.

Remember the friend who decided she and she alone needed to make sure I had my eyes open about LA? I think I called her ‘Wednesday’s Friend’
Anyway, she called me on Friday and invited me out to Hollywood to see a former 80’s hair band. Her then new boyfriend is the new bass player in this band. (sorry…I really shouldn’t talk about it openly…not that there are ANY real stories here…and not that I am trying to be mysterious…I just don’t think it is kosher to drop names)
ANYWAY. She is dating the new bass player for this 80’s hair band who is starting to tour again. She didn’t want to go alone so she said she would buy my ticket and even drive up from Santa Monica, pick me up and take me to Hollywood. (she drives a convertible Mercedes…I was game )
So after my horrible moving day, I fixed myself up as best I could with out a shower and go to Hollywood to see aging rock stars on Hollywood and Vine. It was good to see my friend again. We fell back into old times as easy as you please. Can’t stay mad at her for long.

We were sitting around talking when who should appear…but CeeCee Deville (anyone? He is (was?)the lead singer of Poison)
Little blond guy…5 foot nuttin’ hair, high and mighty but short, with a modern twist.
My first (and only so far) star sighting….CeeCee Deville. I’m in the big time now kids 

2006-12-04T23:15:00.001-08:00

Monday the 23rd

I don’t know why or where this feeling came from, but there is something about waking up while it is still dark. I used to love it. It meant that we were packing up the car and going on a fun vacation. I used to love the feeling that I was the only one awake and active. Somewhere in my travels, waking up in the dark became to mean catching a flight for a job. A job I didn’t want to do (Harris days) Its not a fear of flying, maybe a fear of schedules. Maybe it was a sense of loneliness as I was always the one leaving, never staying.
So when I woke up alone on Kristy’s couch, even though I knew I was on my way home, I felt anything but comforted. I skulked around like a thief, careful of any noise I made, off I went into the solitude of darkness on my way the Burbank Airport. As I drove, I kept ticking off things I still needed to do, contact the property manager, return the cable, pick up my dry cleaning, should I get the carpet cleaned, I don’t want to leave my house, I haven’t even seen the new apartment, my new apartment will be nothing like my house…I psyched myself deep into the heart of sickness. Completely nervous and unsure of my decisions, I arrive at the Burbank airport almost completely unaware of what was really going on. In a fog of check lists and responsibilities I walked…zombified, aware only of what had to be done and that there was a time schedule to keep. Thank god for that really, I think if I didn’t have a rigid time schedule to keep, I would have been buried alive (kinda like Bill Pullmat in Serpent and the Rainbow “Don’t burry me…I’m not dead) .
Once on the plane, I took a deep breath. That was all it took, I started to cry; A brief repose where I allowed emotion to leak out…literally (ha)
I remember a lady behind me chatting and chatting and chatting with the man next to her.
She kept on about being “…so hungry”. I looked at the bowl of fruit I had bought in the airport for my own breakfast…breakfast that stress wouldn’t allow me to eat. I turned around and offered her my still sealed fruit bowl. She looked at me like I had leprosy.
I could hear the needle side from its groove on the record…que the crickets. She spoke to me like I was a simpleton. “aww aren’t you sweet, I’ll get something in Denver”
I turned away from them and back into my own seclusion, my emotional child hurt on a whole new level. The long silence behind me and her laugh told me they were making fun of my nice gesture. (sigh) ungrateful bitch. Starve.
I took this scene and made all kinds of other plays out of it. Is this what California people were like? Insensitive chatters who mock random acts of kindness? I was already missing Colorado.

I landed at DIA and waited for my Mother and Tom to pick me up.
While I waited for them, I got a call from the 818 area code (Burbank)
The caller was foreign with a very thick accent. With all the noise of the passenger pick up area there was no earthly way I could understand him who ever HE was.
I remembered leaving a message to see an apartment on an answering machine of a foreign sounding man named Alex. I assumed it was him.
“No thank you, I’ve already found an apartment” and I hung up without ever really understanding what he was saying to me.
5 minutes later this Alex person called again.
I told him that I can’t understand him and that I’ve already found an apartment. I hung up again.
My parents arrive, I get in the car and smell the smell I’ve always associated with Boulder and freedom, comfort, being my own person and having different thoughts other than the main stream ones thought in Omaha, my mother and home. (that’s a lot of memories for one smell)
It was the smell of the Crystal Dragon (anyone who has visited or at least received gifts from the Dragon know this smell) basically the smell of all different kinds of incense, but mainly Nag Champa.
I felt safe and warm and loved. I sat in the back seat and took a greedy whiff of safe and warm. Ahhhhh serenity.
I took the fruit out of my backpack and offered it to mom and Tom. They happily ate it with me. 

My phone rang again (a different 818 number) this time it was a woman I could understand.
‘Ma’am, we have been desperately trying to get a hold of you since yesterday. We were trying to get to your house on Sunday but you didn’t answer. The movers will be at your house in half an hour.”
Serenity lost.
I was in Denver on my way to Colorado Springs with my mother driving. No way no how was I going to make that deadline.
It was then that I remembered that the movers were supposed to call me on Friday to tell me when they would show up. All I knew was that I had planned on the week of the 23rd with the moving broker. He had told me the movers would call with a time on Friday. They never did. I felt a touch of rainman coming on….’OHHHHHH 30 minutes to movers…..OHHHHHHHHHHHHH’
I relied on the movers to tell me when they would should up and give me more than a half an hours notice.
Serenity shattered
‘OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH’
I called a friend and arranged to have her wait at the house to let the movers in. She was a little weirded out by it…but she agreed to at least let them in and get then started packing.
My parents were stunned at the unprofessional-ness of these movers. I couldn’t think about it and tried to focus on the task at hand.
’25 minutes to movers. OOHHHHH’
About that time Alex called again. This time I worked out that he was the mover. He told me
“I at you house at 2 hour” (I am SO not exaggerating the accent).
Now you know me…I love strange new accents, I love mimicking and mastering them. I pride myself in being able to understand anyone after a few words. I had to work hard with this one.
‘What?’ I said
‘I AT YOU HOUSE AT TWO HOUR’ not any clearer, just louder and angrier.
At the time, I felt bad for not being able to understand him, in hind site…this was foreshadowing at its most elementary. That ratfuckerjackasssonofabitch mover. But I digress.
The whole time frame was fine for me, so what ever really.
I sat back in moms car and madegood my preempted ‘warm and safe’ (little business jargon for those in the know)
When we got to my beautiful, loyal, loving home in the Springs, Mom, Tom and I started packing. Luckily I had some boxes in my basement from when I moved just over a year ago (17 months). I set my parents to task and I took a shower. I then spent the better part of 2 hours trying to direct my foreign movers to my house. I honestly could not understand him. I tried very hard to understand and I swear, he tried to make it difficult for me. As if he knew me and decided before even knowing me that I was not deserving of his pathetic consideration. (prickles wonder) The movers finally show up at around 4p. Alex and Neal. Alex the Russian who doesn’t speak English and Neal the American who doesn’t speak. They drove two big ass trucks into my little cul de sac. Thank god there was a place to park the second just across the street.
Alex was clearly in charge. He told Neal to get right to work packing.
Thus began my day of hell. I barely remember what transpired that day
A friend of mine came over to help with the packing (even though I paid an extra $500 to have the movers pack) (slimeygoodfornothingsociopaths)
I was running up and down the stairs trying to pack my house…running to them when ever they bellowed out my name. Watching them as these indifferent strangers pawed at my possessions. Supervised as they uncaringly dismantled all the years of careful spending and saving. I witnessed as what had come to define my actual adulthood was carelessly shoved into an innocuous brown box with smelly yellow tape wound willy nilly around it. This was just about all I could stand.
‘When will you be delivering the stuff to Burbank I heard my mom ask’
’10-21 Days ma’am’ came the reply
’10-21 days???!!!! How can that be an answer?” Said my mom
’10-21 days.’ Was their only response.
I tried not to think about it.
In order to make myself feel a little better, I tried to have casual light hearted conversations with the…shall we say ‘salt of the eath-ers’
I tried to explain all I had been through and how I just landed not 2 hours ago, how I had to be to work in Burbank on Thursday. I told them this not as a poor me story, but maybe for then to say…damn…that sucks, I feel for you. I didn’t expect anything in return except for maybe a bit of a ‘brothers in arms’ kind of feeling.
It did get them talking, but it was all about them and how hard their life is and how much they hate their jobs and how much they have to be on the road (yeah…complaining up the wrong tree on that one jack ass)
’Maybe you should get a different job if this one is so bad.’ I said
‘No, said Alex…his English suddenly understandable
‘This job pays well. I like doing this…boy is it hard, don’t you feel sorry for me….by the way, I have this girl friend in Utah, she is crazy. Here is a picture of my son. Isn’t he cute?’
Meanwhile….
Mom and my friend were looking for more wardrobe boxes. Neal, the underling mute, said that he didn’t have any more wardrobe boxes so just uses those over there.
Mom and friend were happily packing up my clothes when Alex screams for me from down stairs
“MEGHAN!!!”
I obienently go down stairs and ask what I could do for Alex.
“I need Deesh Pak boixes, I hat moure deesh pak boixes” (you’ll just have to assume a REALLY thick Russian accent here…
and oh yes, his accent is back on.
“Those women are upstairs using my dish pack boxes to pack clothes.”
“You have no other boxes?” I ask
“Yes we have more boxes but I need dish pack boxes so your dishes don’t break You tell them they must unpack that box and give it to me. I need dish pack boxes.”
I told him that we don’t know from dish pack boxes and how should anyone else know one box from the other. It was then that he took me out side where the box staging area was and pointed out the different types of boxes (how lovely…a learning opportunity)

When I told my mother that she needed to unpack that box and give it to Alex, she got twice as upset as Alex was.
“Meghan, that guy told me I could use it (Neal) I am NOT unpacking this box.”
By this time Alex was in my mothers face telling her she must unpack the box. You can imagine how little my mother appreciated this. All I wanted was this damn experience over. Alex wasn’t backing down and my mother suresthehell wasn’t backing down, so I chose the path of least resistance and yelled at my mother to just fucking unpack the goddamnbox. You can imagine how well that one went over. As I unpacked the dish box, mom was in the corner livid. She kept on about how ‘HE TOLD ME I COULD’ I gave the box to Alex, to his credit he didn’t gloat and that was a good thing.
Mom later told me that at that point, she turned off. Mom and Tom pretty much left the packing to the jack asses who’s job it was to pack my house. Sorry mom, you only hurt the ones you love. The movers actually were AWFUL. Even Tom, the eternal pacifist suggested telling the movers to just stop what they are doing and leave. He hated them and wanted them away from him.
About this time, I got a call from a friend asking how the move was going. It was something about a break from the insanity, a kind voice on the line asking about me that just started the water works. I sobbed almost uncontrollably for a good 10 minutes. Kind of feel bad for the friend on the phone. Nothing they could do but listen to me sob. This was a lot to take. These movers were the most insensitive, jackass buffoon clod head jerkoffs ever and I wanted nothing more to do with them. They had seen me crying and later asked me in their most sensitive monosyllabic grunts “what is up with the crying?” I tried to explain to them what all I had been through with the 1500 miles away planning of the move, the just getting to the Springs on Thursday, the driving and the arriving that day (phew)
My reply??????!!!!!!…they shrugged,
“Life is hard, I have to drive to Wyoming tomorrow and do this all over again…I am on the road all the time…I don’t get paid shit...my girlfriend is crazy, wanna see a picture of my kid?”
So once again I am nothing, it is all about them and their problems even though I am paying a hefty price for their ‘services’ all they did was complain about how hard it was for them. (jackmotherfuckingnobrainnitwitstupidasses)
My friend, thinking she might get a little more reasonable answer, asks the movers again…
‘When do you think you will be delivering the stuff to Burbank?’
’10-21 days ma’am’ was their dogmatic reply.
‘It’s at most a 17 hour drive…how can you say 10-21 days?’
‘We don’t know where else we have to stop. We have to go to Wyoming tomorrow. 10-21 days ma’am’
My friend shook her head.
The original plan was for mom, Tom and I to spend the night at my house on Monday night (as the movers weren’t supposed to be there until Tuesday….I thought)
Mom comes up to me and says
“Tom and I are going to look for a motel to stay at tonight”
All I heard was “…we aren’t staying the night here with you…we are leaving”
I looked around at what was once my pride and joy, my home, my first responsible adult thing I had done…it resembled the Who house after the Grinch had had his way with it. Reminince of happy home owning and careful picture hanging, warm cozy nights in front of the fire, gone and in its place a tattered blank box with bits of string and box tape scattered about in a frat house sort of way.
Once again, I sobbed uncontrollably
“Please…please don’t leave me here.” (god, just retelling this story makes me mist up)
I had no pride, I pleaded like an innocent man who had just been given the death sentence. Even the movers stopped their dismembering of my house to see the spectacle.
Mom assured me that the plan included me too. We needed a nice place to stay and calm down.
They left to procure sleeping arrangements and the movers stopped for a pizza break.
My friend tried to make me lay down for a nap. Yeah right. I couldn’t sleep. It was getting late and the packing wasn’t finished. I wanted these bastards out of my house.
Apparently at this time my friend had a little sit down with the movers.
They asked her what was up with all my hysterics, so she sat them down and told them my story. She also told them that we were helping them with their job and to lay off being complete jack asses. (in so many words)
My friend assured me they were done being fuck heads. I have no idea what she really said to them, but for the most part, they were actually a little nicer…Alex’s English got better after that too (jackass)
But it wasn’t until I slipped the lead wanker a bill ‘for taking care of my stuff’ that they really became tolerable. (slimy cockroaches)
Mom had to tell me this story later…I had completely forgotten about it.
Alex said he was done packing the kitchen. I looked around and saw that my toaster oven was still not packed. I pointed to it and said ‘what about the toaster oven?’
“Oh you don’t need that” said Alex the Jack-ass-in-chief
I looked at him with disbelief.
“Pack my toaster oven” I said
You may think that he was kidding…he actually wasn’t kidding. If he didn’t want to pack it, he told me I didn’t need it.
He told me not to pack my jackets.
‘You won’t need them in California’
I told him that I had been there before and yes, it gets chilly at night, especially in the winter months. He just shrugged and continued packing.
This is above and beyond all the things they said I couldn’t take,
“No liquids Ma’am….it will leak”
Neal had originally told this rule to me as I was packing my perfume.
“No liquids ma’am, they will leak.”
I looked at him blankly.
“You mean to tell me I can’t pack my perfume? Hundreds of dollars of perfume…and you won’t let me bring it?”
“It will leak.” is all he said.
“Fuck you.” is all I said in reply. I know how to pack. (and by the way…not a single bottle of perfume leaked)

There was a bit of a down time and Alex’s cell phone began to ring.
“Shouldn’t you answer your phone, it might be work.”
“No, it is my girlfriend.” Said Alex, who’s English had become intelligible yet again.
“She wants me to move to Utah….She drives me crazy…I need to break up with her you wanna see the pic of my son…blah blah blah”
I was listening simply to get on his good side so all my stuff would arrive in one piece and before 10 -21 days.
“Yeah, women hu?!...You gonna pack up those vases above the refrigerator?”

Mom and Tom came back from the hotel hunt pleased and with a 12 pack of Coors. Now you know me, I’m not a Coors woman but I gratefully gulped down 3 or 4 in 10 minutes. At this point we were all so fucking sick to shit of these piss head ass hole bipolar movers, we sat in the living room drinking beer and laughing as we watched them finish packing and load the moving truck. I laughed for the first time in weeks.
Finally, what seemed like would never happen…those horrible horrible men drove away.
“See you in 10-21 days” I thought I would never see my possessions in one piece again. This chapter was finished and over.
I packed up my cat, got in the back of mom’s car and let them drive me to the hotel.
It was at that time that I realized that I hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. I didn’t think I could eat (stomach was full of stress) but there is something about Taco Bell that always works. 
With me tucked cozy into a standard but clean warm room, my cat exploring the new room she was in, the cartoon network on the tele and 6 beers and a grilled stuffed burrito in me, I drifted off into a somewhat uneasy slumber. I kept thinking about my lap top that I forced myself not to bring, I still had so much work to do.

2006-11-15T16:03:00.000-08:00

Saturday the 21st.

While the bed and room service was wonderful, I can't say that I woke up refreshed. I would have to be totally relaxed for that to happen. I had a mission and that mission was not yet complete, no time for relaxin’, I had some more road to be on again.
As I think back on this morning (a full three weeks later) I honestly don't know if I truly knew where I was and what I was up to. I think I had to hide the main purpose of my trip from my deep deep psyche. My ID. You know how often I travel, I kept my mind in travel mode; mainly because I had to shut off the part of my brain that knew damn good and well what I was up to. I think had I really told myself what was up…I wouldn’t even be telling this story. I would still be working for the old company mildly unhappy and living in my house in Colorado. Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.
While waiting for Betty to be brought up from valet a rather buff looking security guard starts a conversation with me. I told him my story about moving to Burbank and how I just got in last night from Colorado. He seemed impressed of my driving prowess. He told me he went to college in Utah and played football there. Brigham Young? I asked. Southern Utah state or something like that. Looking at his dark chocolate skin I surmised that he was neither Morman nor born in Utah. (Sometimes I am very un PC that way. I don't mean anything by it. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em) He laughed and said he was born in the south. He proceeded to tell me stories about being a body guard for this famous person and that famous person (blah blah) and if I were ever in sin city again, to look him up. So I’ve got that going for me 
Back on the road, I continued the saga of Bilbo Baggins and that pesky ring of his. (here is were I suggest books on CD for all my friends who find themselves with a long road trip in front of them. It really helped pass the time) I filled up with gas and diet coke. I still had some chocolate donuts from the morning before so I was good for breakfast.

It didn’t take too long for me to arrive in Burbank. I had a few places I wanted to check out, so I started the process of calling. One place I called seemed to be closed on the weekends…wha???!! I called and left a confused sounding message...”you’re closed on the weekends????????” Hopefully they would hear this on Monday and be ashamed of missing out of having me for a tenant. (ha)
The other two places on my list had already been rented. Another wasn’t going to be able to show the apt until Sunday. This was not looking good for Meghan. I did have one place to look at in Glendale just off the 5.
I pulled into the driveway. When I got out of the car I had the strange sense that I was still moving. It took me a few moments to get my sea legs (as it were) Is that normal?
Anyway, the front looked ok. I walked around back to see my potential new home.
Picture a Motel 6. You know how it can be two stories, with the iron railing around the top balconies…doors on the outside. I felt my heart drop. I wanted to turn right around, but I didn’t just drive 1300 miles to just turn around. Besides, maybe it was cool on the inside.
While it was big…it was not cool. Neither in the temperature nor Fonzy sense. I looked out the window of the bed room and instead of seeing Garden of the Gods or Pikes peak…I saw a gas station. I nearly cried. I had no other apartments I could see and I was not about to live here. I had 24 hours to find a place and not a clue how to go about finding one. I walked out defeated but not yet out. Back in Betty I tried to get a game plan. I had no where to go. If I could get back on line, I could look for more places. I went to the only place I knew…downtown Burbank.
To my surprise there were banners everywhere saying that downtown Burbank was wireless. Success! I parked my filthy bug (from all the snow she encountered in Vail Pass only a day ago) unearthed my backpack from the mess of boxes in the back and went in search of a satisfactory place to lunch. I wasn’t hungry but figured a diet coke and three little chocolate donuts 5 hours earlier weren’t quite gonna do it. I found my spot, ordered my lunch and got on line. There were several wireless networks to choose from, but not a single one worked. I would eventually get kicked out after 5 minutes. My good friend panic pulled up a chair beside me, ordered a drink and asked how my day was going. (UG) I saw my very deliberate time line slip away. In hind site it all seems so silly, my histrionics. Mind you I have been alone with myself for 3 weeks now. I needed a calm head and I wasn’t going to get one by looking in the mirror.
I called my future colleague for help. She said she would be willing to help me look for places and gave me her cell number. Sucker!!!!
She told me of a town house that was in the highest part of my comfort range price wise. I called that number, it was rented. I called the colleague back, she then told me to just drive around and look for places in a particular neighborhood. So, that is exactly what I did. I called a few places and left messages. Does no one in this city work on the weekends???!!!!
Finally ONE guy answers his phone. We have a few available for you to look at he says.
I went to the first one. It was ok, nothing special, looked a lot like the standard apartments that all my loser friends got when they first got out of high school…you know the ones, plain box with boxes for rooms and a box for a bathroom and a rectangle for a kitchen, they thought they were cool…but I knew it was just sheep lodging. I always knew I was better than sheep cages. The second one…it was wonderful!!!!! Different floor plan, boxes yes, but with built in cabinets and low and behold….when I looked out the window…a view of a mountain (ok…a foot hill but that was an easier stretch than the gas station would have been)
I called the land lord and said OH MY GOD I”LL TAKE IT!!!! He was pleased. Just then someone came through the door. It was a maintenance man. This made my land lord pause.
Are you in apt 101?
No, I’m in 201.
Oh, you’re in the wrong apt.
Sadly I left the wrong apt and went to the right apt.
The right apartment was still the wrong apt (for me at least).
Nothing special about it again. What is more, the stairway to my place was enclosed (that is to say the building walls were right there. I couldn’t even stretch my arms out wide, I’m no Michael Jordan(remember that poster of his wingspan?) and I saw the implications. I asked if people had issues moving stuff, he said no, but I was dubious. I declined.
A third apartment was available but the tenant was still there so I couldn’t look at it but it was the identical twin to the first one I say (the box upon box upon rectangle)
By this time ‘Get-apartment’ was so engrained in my head that when the land lord suggested I put some money down to secure the apartment, I just did it. Fine. It is done.
I want that task done as I was done. The movers will be in Colorado on Tuesday and I need to tell them where to drop off. So I said I would take the one with the tenant still in it. That one was on the upper floor…I just didn’t want anyone living above me. I signed the papers with out really seeing it. Two beds, two baths underground parking and a dishwasher. Washer and dryer in the complex. It was not my dream place by any means, in fact…was it not a sheep cage? Do I have to say again how desperate I felt? I have to say, signing the papers and knowing that I had a place to dump my stuff, took a lot off my shoulders.
With that windmill successfully battled, I drove to BJ’s (a brew pub for those of you with dirty minds) and sat in the parking lot for a bit of time stewing on what I had just done, the implications of taking a place so soon and whether or not I should go into the pub.
I wasn’t debating if I were hungry or if I actually needed the beer I kept telling myself I needed but because I didn’t feel like I belonged there. I felt so sore-thumbey. Surely everyone knew I was an outsider even though I am leaser of a lovely sheep cage. California was never my happy place, what the hell am I doing? I belong in Colorado. I feel a connection there. Then I got mad at myself for letting a state and a perceived state of mind tell me I wasn’t good enough and who’s to say I won’t connect here. Plus, you never know until you try McGuinness. Sounds like psyc 101 but all I had to do was tell myself I couldn’t do it. Against my better judgment, I dragged myself into the pub, sat at the bar and ordered a beer. That first beer…Mother’s milk!
Nearly in tears, I called my friend who lives in Santa Monica and asked her how soon could I get to her place. I need a friendly home base (for at least 36 hours)
Thank god for her.
She has 18 month old twins of her own, and that weekend she had her husband’s kids from a prior marriage, a girl and a boy who are just wonderful…still in grade school…I’m not good with ages.
So Saturday night was nice as time was spent entertaining them and not my over stimulated project managing brain.

Sunday was simply hanging out at my friend’s house and playing with the kids. I remember at one point, the older kids were wanting to play and the younger kids were being fed. One of the babies wouldn’t sit in her high chair, she kept standing up. I was sitting right there trying to move money from one bank account to another, get all the required paperwork together, organize in my mind what was next and to prepare for the step after that. I was stressing about the move and the time frame of it all. The babies were screaming the older kids were not being bad but wanting attention. I felt bad for my friend because I was no help at all. I felt I should be helping her with this brood of hers but I could do nary a thing.
The babies were crying, the kids were ‘hey watch this’
I felt myself snap. Seriously I felt something go ‘twang…boi-yoing’ (insert cartoon sound effects here)
Luckily it was an internal snap and all I did was put my head in my hands. My friend saw this and said ‘it’s all too much for you isn’t it?’ I started to cry as politely as I could (without making a scene) It was too much.
I slept on their couch again that night (thank god I brought my pillows…some bit of home) I woke up at 4am to catch my 6am flight out of Burbank. I was on my way back home…for the last time.

2006-11-06T23:53:00.000-08:00

Friday the 20th

I woke up warm and comfortable with the knowledge that I was in my own bed in my own house in my own city. It was cold outside and my own down comforter protected me from its ravages. My own pillows cradled my head in the perfect position. My own cat lay at the foot of my bed, curled in a content little ball. Cartoon Network showing on my own tv. The morning sun shone through my own sky lights to gently wake me. To say I was loath to leave would be an understatement. I lay in bed thinking that this would be the last time I would be in my room with my comforter and my pillows and my cat watching my tv in my own home in Colorado Springs. I love my home, I love Colorado too. I have to leave my beloved Colorado. My friends, my mother, my home
As much as I wanted and even needed to stay in bed, my body and mind would not allow it. My mind produced thoughts of me driving in the dark in the middle of nowhere with not enough time in Burbank to find a place crept into every calm corner of my mind and forced me out of my last Colorado slumber.

I hit the road around 9am. I took the ‘back way’ to highway 70 which was 24 all the way to Breckenridge where it meets up with 70. I have traveled HWY 24 countless times. Once again, I viewed every turn, every vista, every scenic outlook as the last time I would ever see it. I stopped on Wilkerson (I think that is what it is called) and took one last panoramic photo. I breathed in the 40 degree air as the wind shoved it up my nostrils. Ahhh the mountains. Next time I come for a visit, I will surely be plagued with bloody noses and altitude sickness. Sigh. I also took a distant notice of grey clouds in the general vicinity of Breckenridge. I paid it no real mind as there was fuck all I could do about weather. I had made my interstate bed. Now I had to lie in it. I hopped back into betty, oh so chilled for my nostalgic effort, not too long after that quaint reflection, the snow began to fly. It was also at this point, as I drove in single file up a twisty turny mountain road behind 5 mountain man SUV’s that I remembered my windshield washer fluid needed filling. We all know how painful it can be driving in the snow with out windshield washer fluid and this time was no exception, but as we all also know, if you stay behind a car for long enough, its back spray can help clean your windshield. And so, I made it through to Breckenridge where I spied happy hippie mountain people traipse joyfully in the falling snow. Some wearing thick jackets, some wearing cool hats that kept off the snow, most wearing boots all of which I witnessed with a heavy heart.
“I have a hat like that” I heard myself saying. “I’ll never need that hat again” sigh.
I finally found my way to I-70 West (after stopping at the gas station for a diet coke, some windshield fluid and a pee…no gas as of yet)
I was off to Cal-e-for-ni-ay….like it or not.

The snow got worse as I went. I had slight anxiety as I drove up to Vail pass. Why did I choose this route instead of turning left at Albuquerque? There was no turning back now, all I could do was suck it up and continue. For all the weather that was happening, I must say, it was beautiful!! I continued forward on my path, slipping and sliding in places but going ever forward until I reached the furthest west I had ever traveled in the state of Colorado. I took a note from Samwise Gamgee’s book. If I take one more step, it will be the furthest from home I have ever been. Well that wasn’t exactly true…Singapore was the furthest from home I have ever been…but you get my point I’m sure. Pretty much from that point, the snow slowed and the sun began to peak out more frequently. I had spotty phone reception and I called my mother and boyfriend when I could. I told my mother that I wanted to get as close to Las Vegas as I could. “Now Meghan,” said the voice of reason “don’t over do it. Just take your time and get there when you get there, Burbank isn’t going anywhere.” While my mother was right, I had no desire to stay on the road any longer than necessary. I promised her I wouldn’t over do it, hung up and put the pedal to the metal. I remember crossing into Utah and not being too impressed. There was a sign that said 108 miles until the next gas stop. Quarter tank. I was good! I can’t remember where I filled up at, but it was somewhere before the point where 70 meets up with I-15 in Utah. Fill up betty with gas and Meghan with Burger King, a call to mom and my boyfriend and I was on my way. I turn on ‘The Hobbit’ book on CD that Joanne got for me and there was no stopping me. That CD was fantastic. I still haven’t listened to all of it. Around St. George the bugs were getting thick on the windshield. Yes I had washer fluid, but as we all know, bug carcass is washer fluid proof. Out of sheer necessity, I stop outside of Las Vegas for a windshield cleaning. I remember getting out of the car, standing up and feeling like I have been at sea for 7 years. I couldn’t stand still. I had to keep moving, (anyone remember that X-Files episode where that man had to keep moving otherwise his head (or his wife’s head) would explode? That is what I felt like) Back in Betty. Las Vegas was on the horizon. I arrived in Las Vegas at 8pm Vegas time, 9pm Colorado time. 12 hours. Not to damn shabby if I do say so myself. Let me google that distance
813 mi (about 13 hours 48 mins)
I think I did pretty good especially since Vail pass was closed due to weather not 4 hours after I drove through it.
I pull into Vegas just as the Giant Eagles plucked Bilbo, Gandalf and the troop of Dwarves from the snapping, drooling jaws of the wolves. I had no idea where I was going, nor did I really care. I chose an exit and drove to the nearest decent looking hotel (a Hilton). The valet was dubious that I would get a room. I got a room, I’m not going to tell you how much I paid for the room. Let’s just say you can’t put a price on the feeling of security and really awesome room service.

2006-10-29T21:01:00.000-08:00

Hello FOM (Friends of Meghan)

I sit here in the Holiday Inn Media Center in the heart of down town Burbank (at least I think I am in down town Burbank, it really just sounded good) anyway I am for sure in Burbank.
My cat is here with me, coming down from her kitty high, (I drugged her up for the flight here)
The moon, a perfect crescent stained orange by LA ozone, hangs just out side my window watching me drink my sedation beer. While I am completely and totally 100% exhausted, I find I can’t calm my mind enough at night to sleep properly. I also find that beer tends to help remedy that situation  Anyone else find that?

I have been here in this Holiday Inn many times before when working for Disney so this seems a little like home and it comforts me in some strange way.

I am going to try to recount the last 7 days to you. They have been the most, worst, pinnacle, utmost, …all the superlatives… of my life (I think) at least those that I can think of and haven’t blocked out.
If I never do this moving bull shit again, it will be too soon. At least the next time I move I hope to not do it alone. This relocation really sucked! Really really

Lets start on Thursday the 19th.
My client in New Jersey, being the nice guy he is, says to me on Wednesday ( I can’t believe it was only 7 days ago) “Just go home tomorrow” I knew the project was technically finished. I would have just been hanging around for the sake of making it look good if I stayed. To be honest I had been phoning it in (as my boyfriend likes to say) for the last week and was way more focused on my move than on training him. He knew it and just let me go. I gratefully thanked him and left New Jersey in my dust. To be fair N.J was actually lovely and my client a joy to work with.
So I wake up at 2am on Thursday morning in order to get to shower and get to Newark airport by 4, after being stalked by the hotel bar tender until 11pm. (he stole my room number from my bill and knocked on my door 10 minutes after I left the bar….eeewwwww). He actually called first. I remember I was on my cell phone when my hotel phone rang. I went to answer it but remembered no one had my room number except the creepy bar tender. I ignored the phone. Not 5 minutes later a knock on the door came. I was still on the phone and I know he heard me. He knocked one more time then finally left. What a creep.
Anyway, the plan was to catch the 6am Newark to Dallas flight, that would get me into the Springs around 10am. I had plans to drop off my car for its 40K check up and get my hair cut before attending a going away party at 5p. I had it all worked out with rides (since my car would be at the mechanic’s all day) and appointments. It was a perfect plan as my original flight got me in at 9:30pm
I had called the day before to just change the flight and pay the $100 change fee (much better than the uncertainty of stand-by) American told me that because I wanted to change the lay over city (from Chicago to Dallas) they would have to cancel my current reservation and re-book my ticket at a cost of $800. Unacceptable. I would just have to fly stand by.
So, after the bar stalker and a sleepless night, after a painful stress puke in the shower, (gross) after driving an hour on the New Jersey turnpike during that nether time where even the likes of Tony Saprano are sleeping, I optimistically stand in line to check into my flight. The lady behind the counter condescendingly guided me over to the self check in kiosk and proceeded to explain to me how to check in all by myself. I decided to ignore her belitteling schpeel as I had other things on my mind. Before she could finish I politely pointed out that I wanted to fly stand-by.
“oh”
That’s when I found out that they don’t let you even stand by for a flight to a city that is not on your original itinerary.
(a slight explination)
My Original flight was from Newark to Chicago, Chicago to the Springs. But since the flight to Chicago was at 4pm (getting me home at 9:30pm) I wanted to go from Newark to Dallas and Dallas to the Springs getting me home at 10am)
That’s a big neg-a-tory
Did anyone else know that? Seriously…in all my days of traveling (7 years worth) I have never come across this rule. Now maybe it is because I’ve never wanted to do this or maybe it is because of new regulations or maybe, just maybe others bent the rules for me and this be-oughch wasn’t gonna .
Well I’m sure you know what happened next…que the water works.
Now I wasn’t doing this for theatrics. I was honestly freaking out. There was no way in hell I was going to wait around until 4 bloody pm to catch the flight, plus, all my plans just went straight out the window.
Bad bad….all bad.
I begged her through teary eyes‘please don’t make me stay here until 4pm’
Through harsh words and eye rolling on her part and tears and snot on mine, she booked me on a Newark to Chicago, Chicago to Dallas and Dallas to the Springs flight that got me in at 4p. Not as good as 10a but not as bad as 9p. There went all my plans for Thursday (except for the going away party)
I landed in the Springs, got my luggage, threw it in Betty and drove straight to the going away party that started at 5p. The girls were great and had a beer waiting for me. I was so stressed, I couldn’t drink it. ME, Meghan McGuinness, I took two sips of my lovely home town brew. I think I had one piece of my appetizer. All I could think about was the drive to California the next day. I cried my apologies to the girls that I was so lame, I cried some more and went home to my cat, my bed and the Cartoon Network. That night I slept the best I had slept in 2 weeks.

2006-10-17T17:58:00.000-07:00

Tuesday October 17, 2006

Today was much better. I created the blog last night. I think writing it all down and sharing it with everyone was just the cathartic mental enema I needed. I also swam for half an hour. Maybe I needed some exercise too. I can’t say that I slept like a baby, but I slept better than I have since I passed out at Linda and Nancy’s on Saturday. Did I tell you I got really drunk that night and that I really needed it?
I spent the majority of the day actually working (shock!) We (client and I) had to drive to Stamford for an automation meeting. Those of you who don’t know what an automation meeting entails, thank your lucky stars for your bliss. Those of you who do know what that is, know that my head as imploded but I am recovering nicely.

My client who, to his misfortune, asks me how I’ve been holding up (and therefore gets the daily updates) decided that ¾ of a day spent talking automation was enough for one in my delicate mental state. While I enjoy the not working and am grateful for the extra planning time, all it really amounts to is extra OCD time. I spent the time looking for places to see on Saturday (assuming I get there in one piece) and annoying my new boss with silly questions like '...when should I show up for work on Thursday?' and '...will I be able to go home for the holidays?'
She had to stop me at the holidays question. Perhaps I should actually clock in before I start thinking about Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I’m down in the hotel bar now, having a Smithwicks. Ahh the foamy goodness. Perhaps tonight I shall sleep the sleep of the moved and established.

2006-10-17T17:52:00.000-07:00

Monday the 16th

Threw up this morning. I’m so stressed! Why I am I making this so hard? I’m glad I told my client I’m leaving, I can at least tell him about my stress this weekend. He is my only friend here in Jersey. He seems genuinely worried about me and tells me that I don’t seem to be the kind of person to let this stuff bug me. He said it much better than I recounted and it made me feel a little stronger and a little less stupid. Why am I being so neurotic about this? This is not like me. So I made a plan. My plan is to fly home from Jersey on the 19th then get in the car and drive to Burbank on the 20th. Find a place to live, (easy right?) leave my car there, fly back on Monday the 23rd, let in the movers, let them pack me, load up the truck on the 24th and hopefully fly back either Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. Perhaps to start on the 26th. Still waiting to get confirmation of dates from the disreputable movers. By the way, called the movers (Nationwide Relocation Services) and told my Senior Moving Consultant about the bad web site situation. He said that the web site was created by their competition (hmmmmm) that they are currently suing those people for slander and to check their Better Business Bureau rating if I didn’t believe him. I did and they are in good standing. He also mentioned that the moving company they hired is called Avalon (I believe I have heard of them) and they have an A+ rating from the BBB. All I can do at this point is have faith that I have enough good karma in my karmatic bank account to see this through and that those people who posted a complaint are the exception not the norm. I have no choice but to have faith otherwise I will remain sleepless. Besides, I have nothing of value or that can't be replaced. All my furniture is cheap Target particle board anyway. If it gets broken, so be it. (deep breath...release) oooommmmmmmmm
At this point, I just want it all over with. I hope I can sleep tonight.

2006-10-17T17:50:00.000-07:00

Sunday the 15th
DIASTER!!!
Surfing the net and found a web site that was basically devoted to people posting their dissatisfaction for the moving company I so flippantly chose to move my possessions.
Sick I am….SICK! Visions of me being stranded without my stuff. Thoughts that I am a careless, stupid woman. Why didn’t I check them out before choosing them? I’m so stupid!!! I was able to talk to Matt, thank god. He knows exactly what I need to hear to calm me down. He doesn’t lie to me, but he focuses on the positive and that is exactly what I need. I DIDN’T call Wednesday’s friend! It just sucks that I have to do this all on my own with no one to help me. Not only do I have to work on my life move, but make sure my client’s needs are met too. If ever there was a time for retail therapy now is it.
I lie in bed all night scared of my stupid, careless, uneducated decision. I didn’t sleep well.

2006-10-17T17:47:00.000-07:00

Saturday the 14th.

Drove up to Springfield MA to see the work peeps (VCI’s office is in Springfield MA) 2 .5 hour drive. It was nice actually. Colleagues partner just got a job in Palm Springs on a golf course. She promised to teach me golf. Nice to have another friend in the 'hood'. (side note...also found out that a friend's brother and his wife just moved to Long Beach...what is it with the left coast migration?)
I had fun and I didn’t think of my move at all. What a nice break

2006-10-17T17:46:00.000-07:00

Friday the 13th

Got the movers to pack for me (little pressure off) Told the recruiter that I was thinking of starting on the 30th but that date didn’t go over too terribly well either...how does one please these people? Sent that woman an email saying I’m feeling pressured and I don’t appreciate it. She replied with the usual ‘…we understand…’ and ‘lets talk next week…’ Typical even headed HR reply. I hate sane people right now.

2006-10-16T18:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday the 12th
Disney does not understand why I cannot start on the 16th. It is a little something I call responsibility. I still have obligations to my current employer….DUH!!!!
Here they are…making me wait since May to get an offer, then…when they do offer, they want me to just drop everything and come right out. As it stands I am in New Jersey until the 19th. I have no home yet in Burbank (but I have been looking at places since July on the net) I have no time to pack, I have not rented out my place in the Springs yet, I have no plan. I’m starting to get a little panicky. (ya think???!!!)
Thank god a friend called (a sane friend) and calmed me down a lot! She told me I would be fine and it will work itself out. Don’t care if its true or not, it is calming and what I needed to hear. I mean come on…I’m not going to be destitute and giving blow jobs for food…I’m still a little mad at my friend I mentioned on Wednesday.
I’m was still a little panicky.
I got a mover and am paying them to pack for me. This makes me feel a little better.

While in bed...not sleeping from obsessing about being destitute and needing to give blow jobs for food....I remembered I had some money in an IRA account. I didn't want to take the money out, but put on a scale of pros and cons...taking money out of my IRA sures-the-hell beat out giving blow jobs for sustenance and wi-fi.
Moving may suck but I won't!
With the IRA money, I decided to pay off my car. This will free up 3oo bucks a month to pay to for the car insurance hike(sigh)and I transfered the balance of a high interest credit card to another lower interest card (which I should have done anyway)I then called a few landlords I found on the internet and begged them to rent me their places even though I haven't seen them. No one seemed keen to do this (thank goodness) but I think I can scratch them off the potential list as neurotic tenant-potentials tend not to make the short list.
I spoke to a different friend who listened and understood all the stress I was under. She made me feel a lot better. I slept better. I love my friends.

2006-10-16T18:43:00.000-07:00

Wednesday the 11th

Had to talk to the boss' boss. She is a great woman, but very intimidating. I wasn't looking forward to it but in the end she accepted my resignation and promised me a spot at VCI should Disney not work out.
Man did that make me feel good. I've never been treated so well by an employer (yes...Harris included) SO nice of them. It is wonderful to be able to put past bosses down on your resume as a reference (unlike some bosses I’ve had….eh hem)

Called the Diseny recruiter and told her they accepted my resignation. She asked me if I could start on the 16th. I had to explain to her that I had an obligation to my current client until the 19th. I don't think that went over all that well.

Meanwhile...back at the hotel....I started my continuing search for a warm comfy nest to call my own in the Burbank area. I emailed my new boss with a link to a potential home and asked her for her opinion of my WAY too expensive place I found. She replied back with 'I don't get it' (which I took to mean I had chosen badly) and attached links to tons of places she found on Craig's List. (never been a craigs list fan...am I the only one?) While I felt very lucky to have such help, there was that old doubt creaping back up my yellow spine. Does anyone else think therapy is in order??!!!

I started to panick just a little so I called my good friend who lives in the LA area. She went through this very thing when she moved from middle America to the cold lonly city of LA. Surely if there were anyone in the world who could understand my plight, she could. I needed a friendly voice to talk me off the ledge. I called, and asked for her guidance and sage advice...
What she preceeded to tell me was...
I hope you are happy with your decision.
The women in LA are bitches
The men are hopeless
You will never find another Matt in LA
My replies to her onslaughts began to get shakey...

You are making how much...that is college money and I have no idea how you are going to live.
You are going to need a room mate.
When I first moved to LA I was making 80 and I was starving.

I told her about my car insurance...how it was 400 every 6 months but when I move it will be 900 every 6. I started crying. She heard my tears and didn't stop. In fact she re-stated all the above points a second time.
I told her that she would not get the 'cheer up your friend' award. In an effort to somehow make light of the situation.
All she said to that was
"I'm just telling you like it is Meghan, you need to know it is not easy in this city."

Needless to say when I hung up, I began to bawl like an infant for the rest of the night. I was seriously worried the people in the next room would call the front desk. I got no sleep that night and couldn't eat a damn thing in the morning.
She was right, I didn't have any money to do this thing. I had no idea how much money I would be taking home and therefore how much rent I could afford. I was so alone. I couldn't talk to Matt who was in Toronto and with out his phone. I couldn't call my mom because me being in hysterics would only upset her too. The one friend I thought would understand me the most and I needed to talk me through this stressfull time, just pushed me off the ledge.
Moving sucks!

2006-10-16T18:39:00.000-07:00

Tuesday the 10th
Told my boss today that I am resigning. That was hard. I was nervous and I knew it was a bolt from the blue. VCI had been so good to me and good to work for I didn't want to burn a bridge in anyway. They are a small but growing company that was a pleasure to work for. It was nice that they refer to you by your first name and not your last name or some screwed up version of a last name, or worse, your social security #.
I know that Disney is a big big corp with slow turning cogs…the word omnipotent comes to mind. Plus it meant moving to my so called 9th circle of hell and giving up my little home in the mountains I’ve made for myself. Big sacrifice for Meg…but I know Disney can open doors for me. I hope I will make a fluffier home for myself maybe someday in London 
VCI didn't accept my resignation right away. I had to talk to my boss' boss to ensure there wasn't anything they could do for me.

2006-10-16T18:35:00.000-07:00

Monday the 9th of October
Finally got the offer from Disney. I have known about this position since about May of this year (’06)
My soon-to-be boss called me up and said ‘I’m making this job description and thought of you…you interested?” Obviously I’ve worked with her before. She was my boss when I first started working in Colorado Springs (in '99) and I later worked with her as a software provider (she was the client) when she left to work for Disney. (does that make sense?)
So she called me and said the position doesn’t even exist yet but once it does...would I be interested…and yes, I would have to move to the Burbank area.
I said I would be interested but continued on with my life knowing in the back of my head a move will be eminent.

I finally heard from the recruiter on Sept 18th and got the official offer on the 9th of October. Funny thing about corp. America…they make you wait and wait and wait and wait…then, when they want you…they expect you to drop what you are doing and get your ass to work. Not so easy for me as I was on client site in New Jersey for 5 weeks when she called on the 18th. I told her I had no intention to leave my company nor my client high and dry. When I started to discuss a reasonable start date with her, (November 6th) she didn't quite agree.

2006-10-16T18:32:00.000-07:00

And in other news….Today in Hell it’s a frosty 30 degrees.

As most of you by now know…I have accepted a position at ABC Cable Networks (a.k.a. Disney) in Burbank CA.
As most of you are even MORE aware…CA has never been my happy place. I have a home in Colorado Springs that am seriously in love with. It is my first home…I own it, I am loath to leave it.
Unfortunately there is this thing in one’s life that happens...it is called growth. Even more unfortunately-ly with growth comes growing pains.

The following are the chronicles of my growing pains as they happen. Hopefully I will laugh about this one day, until that day….OUCH!

2006-05-31T15:10:00.000-07:00

I HAD FRIENDS IN FROM OUT OF TOWN FOR MEMORIAL DAY AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS HANGOVER.

This will probably a very hard blog to write.
So much of our relationship is based on subtle tones and innuendoes, sly comments that mean nothing to others or broad sweeping declarations meant solely for the shock and awe value (that and utter embarrassment.) That is how we love and most don't understand that.

That being said, to truly love us, you have to experience us, let me try to share the experience.

A brief, totally unfair summation of us.
Obviously this is all from my perspective and I tend to be biased towards me.
I am going to need some guest bloggers (Marje, Renee, Shelley, Joanne)

Renee: I call her my femi-natzi friend. This is an old moniker from back in her college days when her bite was far worse than her bark. She has mellowed a bit since, but the name will stick. The one thing I must say about Renee is that she is equal in all things. She is very much into equality. Not JUST the male female thing but in all things. Ex: Marje wanted to go to a cowboy bar during her visit. Renee said ‘Fine’ but if we go to a cowboy bar, we have to go to a hip hop club (sometimes I wonder if Renee doesn’t just like hip-hop because it is not the norm for a girl to like…but I digress) She is always willing to give something a try, but only if you do something she likes too. So that, is in fact, very fair.
She is also my highest of all high maintenance friends (I love you Renee…but damn)
To be fair, none of these requests or quirks are really that odd but….
-She will only drink dark beer (I think her taste buds are shot from years of smoking and therefore dark beer is the only thing that she can taste)
-Has to have a fan on at night
She wanted me to turn the air conditioning on at night, when the temperature in Colorado gets down to 50 when the sun goes down. I said no and gave her a fan. 
-Diet Sprite. Cans of it were everywhere.
-V8-Juice to take vitamins with. The Sprite simply wouldn’t do
-Coffee (she makes it with 100 times more coffee than required) You think I’m kidding.
I’m not a coffee drinker but I had a coffee maker. I didn’t have filters so she was using paper towels. (resourceful no?) When I ran out of ‘coffee filters’ (paper towels) she opted for the Kleenex. Again…you think I’m kidding.
-Creamer for her sludge (I mean coffee)
The creamer request was no big shakes I use cream in my tea (pretentious I know) so I already had that. That first morning Renee was hunting through my pantry and cupboards for the cream I thought she had lost her mind.
‘Where is your creamer?’ she asked.
‘Where creamer belongs…in the refrigerator’ I said in disbelief.
She stopped, clearly confused.
Why are you looking for creamer in the pantry? I asked
Oh, I should have been clearer….non-dairy creamer. Why would I ask you to buy me fat free cheese and fat free mayo only to have full cream…duh!
She was right about that. I didn’t quite think that one through.
-Fat free cheese and mayo
I told her we probably wouldn’t be eating too many sandwiches in between the beers, but she said ‘just in case….please?!’
-Terrible smoking habit. This is the woman who went up Pikes Peak 14,000 feet in the air and smoked two cigarettes once she got to the top.
-Can’t dry smoke (has to have a drink in her hand when she smokes) this causes big problems when bars wont let you take drinks out side. But don’t worry, she always finds a way to smoke. Renee is the only person I know to be on a treadmill and while smoking. She will deny this story, but it is true true true!

Shelley: My lawyer artist friend. Probably my most professionally misplaced friend. Growing up she was the editor of the school news paper (Marje and I were photographers though Marje was a year above us) guitar-playing-anti cheerleader-idealist-hippie-least-like-a-lawyer friend I had. She does probate and estate planning so maybe she doesn’t quite fit into the lawyer mold either. A true misfit.
Shelley loves nothing better than a glass of chardonnay and a Neil Young album; quite different from dark beer and hip hop and bud light and country music.
Compared to the rest of us Shelley appears to have this unassuming personality. She tends to go along with the crowd and fusses (out loud) as little as possible. You may think she is the cute little blonde sitting quietly thinking about nothing, but she is following every little word waiting to deliver the killing blow. She will go along with your stupid idea but inside she will seethe with images of your head boiling in a caldron she is stirring. She may apologize as your head sits on the floor spilling its life’s blood on your own feet but she isn’t sorry. Now she is not overtly evil, but if you start it….she will finish it. She, like me, will laugh when a person falls down. I love that about her. She is the person I sit next to when I have nothing nice to say.

Marj (short for Marjorie…duh) Marj is probably my least experienced friend. That is to say I don’t spend much time with her…I don’t get to experience much of Marj. Marj most defiantly is an experience. Marje is ready at a split second to tell you exactly what she is thinking and how you are making her feel. She will share your painfully private experience with the hemorrhoid cream as if she were indolently chatting about going to the market. She will volunteer your thoughts about a mutual friends bad fashion sense, right to the mutual friends face. Don’t get me wrong, she will share painful secrets of her own as well. Marj also is fair in that respect. Marj doesn’t really care what the hell you think of her, as long as you know what she thinks of you. Marj is separated with two amazingly beautiful children. (how that happened I’ll never know) She has a boyfriend who is crazy insane in love with her. When I say crazy insane….I mean it. We have dubbed him the stalker. (to be fair I won’t say his name) Marj and her stalker got into a bit of a tiff on the phone while she was here. She ended the conversation with ‘well maybe we shouldn’t see each other any more’ hung up and turned her phone off. Morning came and we were blissfully making fun of Renee and her ‘coffee’ when my phone rang. I saw that it was an Omaha number and assumed it was Marj’s husband with an emergency (as who would be so inconsiderate as to interrupt a girls weekend unless it was an emergency) Marj told us it was her stalker, took the phone and went into the other room to converse. When Marj came back, we gave her the ‘well….what?’ look.
‘OH he said he had bought a $600 ticket to come to the Springs. It leaves at noon….are there any more coffee filters I can’t drink Renee’s coffee?’
There was a moment or 6 of silent disbelief. Renee, Shelley and I exchanged nervous glances. Incredulous looks of the is-she-serious variety continued as Marj went about her usual morning routine. I check out the clock on the unused microwave; it was 11am Omaha time.
Shelley broke the silence. ‘You told him not to come…right Marj. Tell us you told him not to come!’
‘No, I told him I was tired and couldn’t talk to him until I had my coffee.’
More stunned silence from us.
‘You know it is 11am Omaha time Marj??!!’ I said.
She didn’t seem at all concerned.
No one really knew what to do next as Marj’s story seemed just a little far fetched but just bizarre enough to be true. I mean who would drop everything in their life at the moment, cough up $600 hop a flight to a city you know nothing about to search for a girlfriend you have no idea where to find. I mean…if I didn’t know better…I’d say it was kind of sweet and romantic.
I got a little desperate at this point.
‘Tell him there is no more room at the Inn’ I was making frantic hand gestures to the effect of ‘NONONONONONO’
Renee: ‘Call him Marj’
Shelley: ‘Call him Marj’
Meghan: ‘Call him Marj’
Again, if I didn’t know better I’d swear that she wanted him to come.
She called. Apparently he was sitting at the airport ready to go if he didn’t hear from her.
She calmed him down and convinced him not to come. She told him we all thought he was crazy…his reply….
‘I am crazy…crazy in love with you.’
Once again….If I didn’t know better I’d think that was cute…I DO know better.
Phew….we dodged that bullet.

Introductions finished, now time for the ‘highlights’ of the weekend.

The girls got into the springs around 3:30 am or so. Marj was a (eh hem) BIT cranky from driving the whole way. She wouldn’t let anyone else drive her car. I barely got the hello hugs in before Marj started off on her rant about Shelley sleeping the whole way.
As I hugged Shelley she said under her breath
’10 hours of nothing but country music and cigarette smoke Meghan….10 HOURS!’
Not long after, Shelley opted for the less comfortable air bed in the spare room….by herself.

Saturday afternoon brought the Cog railroad up Pikes Peak. Matt decided to try his luck and come along. (poor bastard) Marj, who was anything but well rested begrudgingly came along.
Marj was a royal be-otch the entire 1.5 hours up the damn mountain. Still complaining about Shelley sleeping the entire trip and how she got no damn sleep because it was too hot in my house (every window was open and it was 50 degrees that night) and my cat kept attacking her (jumping on the bed) and the fairy lights I had in the bay window kept her up. That she had to drink her coffee with little bits of grounds in it because I didn’t have proper coffee filters and that Shelley and I went off to yoga class that morning and Renee went to go walk in the beautiful dog park and left her alone in my house with a boy she didn’t know, (Matt) but she couldn’t possibly go out with Renee to the dog park because she would have to shower to be in public and Renee wanted to go right then. Once Shelley and I left and Matt didn’t come down stairs at all and Renee was practically out the door, a sulky Marj followed after her, sat on a bench and talked to her stalker for the duration of Renee’s work out. Now she had to sit on a train for 3 hours…and no one had better puke.
Because Marj is deathly afraid of heights, Renee bought her (and the rest of us girls) a tiny little nippy bottle on a key chain (flask to you)
It was about this time we suggested she take a nip
Once we got to the top of Pikes Peak (some 14,000 feet up) sure enough, right on que, some lady does the technicolor yawn and the whole train reeks of vomit. Marj was hardly amused but I think the lack of oxygen calmed her nerves a bit and she just looked for souvenirs for her kids.
It was also at this point that Renee, needed to quell her jones and had not one but two cigarettes. I was damn surprised that she didn’t pass out. But in true Renee fashion, she proved herself stronger than any lack of O2.

That evening we went to the Golden Bee.
I had never been there in all my years of living here; had to experience it just once.
The main thing about it is that the bar itself was brought over from England (quite lovely) They have a guy there playing the piano and singing popular songs. They even have the words printed out for you in case you find your drunk self wanting to sing along but are ignorant of the lyrics to Moondance. Look to the right and watch the Bee Videos.
Also, the funky little embroidered bees they fling at you throughout the night. They have a sticky back so the waitress never has to touch you to get them on you….she merely flicks her little wrist and twack…you have been bee’ed. Let me tell you she is a dead eye with those things. Most of the time you are not even aware you have one until your friends laugh at the spot it landed.
I am still finding discarded bees all around my house. They drove Marj crazy. I love them.

Sunday afternoon was spent drunk shopping then it was a night out.
Marj really really wanted to go to a cowboy bar. Luckily for her Colorado Springs has just such a beast…surprisingly enough called Cowboys.
My friend Joanne decided to join us. I didn’t spend much time at Cowboys as I was exhausted. Believe it or not…I don’t drink much anymore and an afternoon of drinking really hit me hard, so here is where things get foggy for me. I do remember zoning out and deciding I was too tired to continue so I headed for the Jeep to take a wee nap. The night continued without me and here is the story from what I have been told.
When I left, Shelley was politely sharking a seemingly nice man at pool.
Come to find out he was this 21 year-old who wanted nothing more than to see Shelley’s ‘boobies’
He was obsessed with her ‘boobies’. Yes that was the actual word he used, ‘boobies’
‘can I see your boobies’ he said.
When she said no hell no, he moved on to Marj.
Marj, disgusted, felt him up instead. She said he had look on his face as if he didn’t quite like the gratuitous nature of her touch.
‘If you don’t like it then why do you want to do it to other people fuck stain.’ Or something like that is what she said to him.
Marj found me in the car sleeping like a baby. I felt a hell-ov-a-lot better after my disco nap. Renee was in the car kind of being obnoxious for my sleep deprived brain. She said something to the effect of ‘oh, Meghan’s just sitting here….lets go back and dance. I want to dance, lets go back and dance.’
Something snapped in my little pea brain and I said.
‘Go dance Renee’
Renee didn’t move.
‘Go dance Renee…go on get’. I started to push her out of the door. (car was parked)
After that I think I decided that Renee didn’t give a shit about me and I was mad at her for it. I kept telling her to get out of the car. I remember calling her an ingrate and crying because I was SO not appreciated. (ha)
We got back to my house and I went straight up to bed. Didn’t say good night to anyone just went to bed. The next morning I remembered being angry at Renee but I knew it was stupid so I didn’t say anything about it. Poor Renee had to ask if we were ok. I said of course, if I was really mad at you for no good reason like that…then I would expect you to be mad right back at me for being so ignorant. Marj and Shelley breathed a personal sigh of relief.
I later found out that Renee was also very upset at my meanness and was also drunk crying. Marj said she spooned Renee to make her feel better. Renee said she didn’t remember the spooning and was just a bit disturbed to learn of it

Later when we were recounting the night for Matt, Shelley said he had to stifle a laugh when I was yelling at Renee because what I REALLY said was
“You ingrate….I bought you fat free cheese’
Matt and I laughed for a solid 10 minutes. I had forgotten I said that.
Matt Shelley and I decided I should mail Renee a slice of her cheese once a week once she left.

Later still when I was being filled in on the boobie boy…Renee said she felt so bad about the car incident because maybe she really DID do something wrong she didn’t know she did. She knew she was in trouble when I said ‘You ingrate, I bought you fat free cheese’
Matt, Shelley and I looked at each other and laughed even harder than Renee and Marj.

The best part about all this is that we all know what we said about each other. Never a though mean or in praise is hidden amongst us. We know our friends foibles and are not afraid to air them in public. I guess that which does not make us die of embarrassment makes us stronger. Now that I think about it, Renee seems to get the brunt of it (but that is only cause you are so weird sweetie  ) The morning they left I was sure to take out the fat free cheese and mayo so Renee would not forget to take them with her (ha)

Monday was spent at the quirky local street fair buying more souvenirs. We met up with a couple friend of our Dawn and Jon. Jon found out that Renee was a bit of a feminist and tried to no avail to rile her up. Spouting stories about how he is going to make his fiancé have 10 babies but sell eight of them for profit. He also couldn’t imagine how they gave us people (women) the right to vote. Renee took it all in stride (good for her) then Jon went to work on Shelley trying to convince her that since she is a lawyer she should pick up the tab. Jon struck out again.

That was our last night together. They left the next morning for their home. I miss the hub bub around the house, the flutter of getting ready to go out together, sharing of clothes, the smell of fat free cheese, the endless coffee grounds on my counter, the ever lingering smell of smoke. Ahhhhh its like old times.

2006-04-02T21:27:00.000-07:00

New To The Blog...

Calendar of my trips.....enjoy...cause I certainly don't :)

Perhaps we can meet up somewhere.

2006-04-02T20:24:00.000-07:00

They Call Me Gloss

My grand scheme for this blog was to always have an interesting story to tell with every trip I take, no matter where I went, I would always try to make entertainment.
Well….Terre Haute did not come through for me (or was it that I did not come through for Terre Haute?)
I honestly don’t think my lack of story to tell stems from the fact that T.H. has nothing to do. It is a college town, I’m sure there could have been something for me to get into that would make for an interesting tale, but….it is after all Terre Haute

They Have Half Streets

The one thing that I can talk about (and some of you might think this will be TMI)
But I had a bit of a rash of dreams here in T.H.

I dream. Sometimes I remember the dream, sometimes I don’t, sometimes the dream is so emotional (good or bad) it lingers with me all day. I’m sure you all can understand that. At least one of you who read this blog doesn’t dream….or doesn’t remember dreaming. This I can’t understand. It boggles my widdle brwain. (thought I’d share that with you)

Anyway,
It began on the second leg of my trip to T.H. (as some may remember with this job…I’m on site for a month with a trip home after the second week)
So I’m the Chicago airport on my way to Indianapolis (T.H. doesn’t have an airport we can fly into) when a friend calls me. This friend is still employed with the old job and has been working diligently to get me hired back. To make a long story short this friend told me that there are a few people at the old job who are doing their level best to prevent me from ever coming back…and probably from ever eating lunch in this town again. In short, I (me) had enemies. (SHOCK AND HORROR)
But that the new boss in the old job would still take a call from me if I REALLY wanted to talk about coming back.
I told my friend thank you for the leg work but ‘bollocks to that’.

http://www.peevish.co.uk/slang/b.htm

Thus began my trip into the emotional abyss that is self loathing. And not just self loathing, but total hatred of everything I ever did and have never done. All the stupid things I have ever said and all the ignorant things I do over and over again. I began to think that everything those enemies of mine said (what ever it could have been) was right. I was a bad worthless person. I thought about what they might of said, who they said it to and who ‘they’ actually were.
All sorts of scenarios about back stabbing, evil women who ate kittens and puppies in between their ‘power meetings’
Then I thought about my pathetic life.
I HATED myself. Truly and with a passion for the rest of the night.

I remember that night I had a good dream. (don’t remember what it was)
I remember waking up the next morning happy, until I realized that I had to wake up and be Meghan, live Meghan’s life that Meghan carved out for herself. (seriously people…I hated myself that much) I was instantly let down. Couldn’t I just live in that dream instead of my going-nowhere-life?

Now I don’t want you to think I am ready to jump…nothing of the sort. I was just in a funk for a few days. I’m better now. I realize I have ‘the American dream’ the house the car, a well-ish paying job, my health and the health of my loved ones.
Why I keep letting those petty, shallow, freakish, lying, venomous, backstabbing women rule my life…I will never understand. I’m pretty sure I exorcised those demons that night I think I am over all that now.

That whole self loathing trip got me thinking about my life. I’m about to turn 35. No husband nor children to speak of. Do I want a husband and children to speak about? Should I want a husband and children? If I did have a husband and children, what would I do with them? Should I continue to live in the Springs? There is nothing for me in the Springs (really) just my townhouse, but I could sell it or rent it out…that is no chain. I could move but to where and for what purpose. Sometimes choices cripple me. :)

Then I had a crazy dream I do remember.
We were being invaded by someone….aliens I think.(what ever really) I was hiding in a car. They found me. I begged them to have mercy because I was pregnant. I realized I was telling the truth. (in the dream) so I got myself to a hospital but I couldn’t give birth cause there was nothing to birth.

I can’t remember exactly how I felt when I woke up I think a little sad. I wondered if that was what a biological clock sounded like. Then I wondered if I just didn’t have gas. :)

I don’t know, this is a scary thing this life shit. I don’t really feel any real pressure to do any one thing when it comes to my life. But I feel I should be a better planner. I don’t want to be alone all my life, and I do like kids. Maybe I should just up my 401k contribution and call it a day.

O.K. So that is enough self reflection for a while….

You will find posted a calendar of my trips. I will do my best to keep it updated. I’m a little nervous about posting when I will be gone…but luckily I live in a little community. They watch my house for me

2006-02-12T08:30:00.000-08:00

Good Bye Miami...Hello Tampa.
Or
Sure, Whatever.

I cannot stress enough the lack of love lost between Florida and me. Bugs Bunny once sawed off Florida and sent it drifting away in one of his cartoons. I see nothing wrong with that(as long as all my friends are nice and safe in Colorado first)

But Flordia is a fine state you say, how can you hate a state?
Because! I say to you. Because.
It is probably just how I remember things, but bad or inconvenient things always seem to happen to me in Flordia. Not saying that crappy things don't happen to me elsewhere I just don't remember them quite like I do if I were in Flordia.

Case in point. Friday was our last day at work in Miami. I was glad to be going home and glad to be leaving the client site. Jane (assumed name) and I were just about to leave the client site when Jane received a call from our boss. Jane no longer had a job. I cannot speak for Jane (I know we all know how that kind of loss will send your world spinning) so I will speak for myself (as I usually do)IT SUCKED. What sucked worse was that while she was leaving for home out of the Miami airport, I was leaving out of the Ft. Lauderdale airport (an hour away...at best).

I offered to take a cab to Ft. Lauderdale, but being a trooper she said '...don't be silly.'
So here I am feeling like a complete ass while she calls her support lines to let them know of her situation as I drive myself to the airport. I try to be as small as possible and try not to remind her of ex-job.

Once we get to the airport we say our awkward goodbyes and I go into the airport to begin my weekend of debauchery. (P.S. We still talk, she is doing just fine. As is the case in most of these situations...it was a blessing in disguise)

My flight was at 7:10pm. I checked my watch as I walk up to the counter to check in. 2:15pm. This is going to be a longer day than it already has been. The lady at the Southwest counter was really very helpful. (yes it actually CAN happen) She told me that I couldn't check bags more than 4 hours before a flight.
Sure, what ever.
I asked if I could catch an earlier flight. She said that the 2:50 flight was delayed due to weather and maybe I could get on that one. I was dubious but..
Sure, what ever.
She checked me in and sent me on my way. My plan was to check the gate to make sure I knew when the plane was leaving, make sure I was on that plane, then sit down to have a beer and talk to my boss about my survivor guilt.

I called my Kim in Tampa (Vanbrunt) to tell her I was on an earlier flight. That is when she told me that they were having the worst weather they have had since the hurricane. Her pool was flooding, roofs were caving in all over the city and that they were in a tornado WARNING until 3:30pm. Just as my jaw was dropping the lady in the unfortunate Southwest uniform announced that 'due to weather, this flight to Tampa was cancelled.' UG! Annoyed, I picked up my belongings with intent to have a good long drink at the bar (At least I will get SOMETHING accomplished albeit a buzz) and wait for the weather to clear. At worst, I could catch my original flight at 7:10. That is when the oh so lovely dulcimer voice of the frazzled counter agent came back on the loudspeaker. 'We ask that you stay in the gate area as we are arranging alternate transportation for you.'
Alternate transportation???!! What? you've booked us an air boat?
Still more annoyed I sat myself down and watched as happy travelers boarded OUR plane for another destination (their plane was grounded for mechanical reasons...so since ours wasn't going to Tampa they took ours)
The man next to me began to discuss rather loudly his dissatisfaction to no one in particular.
'I travel all the time, I land in this kind of shit ALL THE TIME. THIS IS BULLSHIT.'
Sure, whatever.
I walked away.
Some minutes wasted away before our fates were revealed. We were told that our luggage could be claimed at carousel #6 then we could take our baggage and board the Grey Hound Bus they had ordered for us.
Yes, you read that right....a Bus. The alternate transportation was a bus. I considered my options.
Wait for the 7:10 flight that I am booked on that will be over loaded with EXTREMELY annoyed passengers and take the chance that not only the weather will clear but that the airport will allow in flights. If they are allowing in flights it will surely be backed up from all the other cities wanting in. No, I think the best thing to do is take the sure thing, though it would be slow going.

With a deep sigh...I head down to baggage claim to claim my baggage.
As I am getting my bags I run into the 'BULLSHIT' man.
"Can you believe....a fucking bus man!...this is bullshit."
Calmly I told him that I would rather be safe than fly into a tornado. He paused ever so briefly to contemplate this, then shook off the sense that it made.
"I fly all the time, I land in this shit all the time."
Sure, what ever
I gave him my raised eyebrow look.
"You taking the bus??!!" he said incredulously.
I was thinking of discussing my well thought out reasoning in hopes of making him SEE but opted for something I thought he could better understand.
"Yes."
"Well I got a flight on Delta...fuck this Southwest bullshit"
I had the slightest urge to try to rationalize with him. One airline does not have immunity over weather. Can you picture a big immunity stick strapped on the top of a Delta plane?! Big shaman feathers hanging over the cockpit windows. Bells and chickens feet flopping allover the place.
"Good luck." I said as I continued dragging my 80 pound suit case across the airport.
"Good luck to you." he said in a not so sincere tone. Still flabbergasted that I was taking a bus. (him and me both to be honest)

I get to the bus and with a few shuffling here and there. I position myself and feather my bus seat nest. I call my Kim.

"YOUR ON A WHAT???!!!!"
"a bus."
"THEY PUT YOU ON A BUS??!!"
"yes."
"A BUS??!!"
silence on my end
laughter on her end
"When are you leaving?"
"i don't know."
"You don't know when you are leaving?"
"when everyone gets here i guess."
"Who's all coming?"
"the people on the plane."
"When will you get here?"
"i don't know."
"They didn't tell you when you would get here?"
"i'm just glad they are doing anything at all. if i were anywhere else they wouldn't even offer up hotel for 'acts of god'"
"I can't believe you are on a bus."
"i can't believe i'm still in flordia."
It was then I realized I never did get my drink.
"god i want a drink."
(have you noticed the case when I speak...I was feeling very depressed)
"Well let me know when you leave...Do you know where they will drop you off?"
"no. i imagine the airport, but i don't know. i just grabbed my luggage and got on the bus before it left. i will ask later."
So we hung up. I took out my Sudoku book and a bottle of water . Prepared for a long long night.
Sure, whatever.
Sometime into the trip Kim calls again.
"where are you?"
"on a bus."
"Ha Ha. Where in the state are you?"
"how the fuck should i know."
"Well what does it look like outside?"
"SWAMP!"
"Well are there any signs?"
"I've been avoiding looking at all the swamp."
"Well when you see signs for (forgot city name) then you have about an hour to go. Call me and let me know."
"o.k. we are going to stop somewhere for a 'dinner break'. i will call you then, hopefully i will know more."
You know....I must say, Kim was very tolerant of my crappy attitude. She let me be a right bitch. Its good to have friends. :)
The bus stopped in some godforsaken McDonalds parking lot in some godforsaken city in Flordia, pissing down with rain and lightning as if the universe itself was not amused with Flordia. As I stood in line waiting for my 6 piece chicken mcnuggets the man behind me said
"I'm just getting a large soda, my wife was making fun of me when I was packing that bottle of rum...she ain't making fun of me now."
My mouth watered. Had he been single..I might have asked him over to my feathered bus nest. Hell, maybe I could ask for some anyway. As I took in his exuberance and his swagger, I decided to stay far away from him and his wife.
To make this short story less long I will cut right to the point where I get to the Tampa airport....6 hours later.
Sure, whatever.
The two buses pull into (the Tampa airport)the worst traffic jam I have seen in a while. There were WAY TOO many cars there. Both Kims were in Vanbrunts car waiting to pick me up. Parker met me where the bus dropped me off and instead of wait for Vanbrunt to find us and pick us up we gathered my luggage and went to find her in the lines of traffic. So here we were weaving in and out of car traffic on foot. When we found Vanbrunt she stopped, popped the back, Parker threw in my 'rock' as she called it and we got in and drove away.
Needless to say the second we got back to Kim's I had a drink.
Damn Skippy.
and thus began our weekend of girlish debauchery which is a whole other blog. Nothing really quite so funny...except for that man in Ybor city. I have a video of him and will try to post it on either my blog or my picture trail. It is inanely funny.
My next trip is to Terre Huate in March. Don't expect stories like these...but I will try to meet up with the Cases (a.k.a. Mesics) either in Terra Haute or Wisconson. Just so you know.
P.S. You're welcome to stop by if you'd like :)

Bliss to you all.

2006-02-11T12:18:00.000-08:00

The Tale of the Penis tattoo.....

I hope this doesn't loose too much in the translation. Every time I tell this story in person I get huge laughs. (tough I have only told 4 people).
SO here goes.

After our long night and morning at the Hard Rock Casino. We slept late. (duh) But there were plans for the day. Jennifer (see pic in Everything Begins with A Beginning) wanted to go get a tattoo. Of course since we were in Miami...We loaded up the two separate cars and headed to Miami Beach. Home of...You guessed it, Miami Ink.

Though I am aware of the show, I have never watched a second of it. So I had no particular feelings one way or another about getting a tattoo there. I had been thinking for quite some time about getting another one but was unsure as to what exactly. I discussed my feelings with my car mates (Kimmy V and Brad) Brad being a very sensitive and creative guy thought on it for about 5 minutes then suggested I get a footprint because of my fascination with my feet. Those of you who know me need no explanation. Those of you who don't need only go to the 'Feet on Parade' photo album on my picture trail link. This, I thought, was a brilliant idea. I would get a foot print in a dark blue 'Earth' color first,then I would research the perfect word for 'one who wanders' and get that added to it later. I was kind of excited.

Once we got to Miami and paid a million bucks to park, we started on foot to Miami Ink. We had to ask directions a few times...I felt like a total tourist...Then again...We were tourists so who cares!

The joint has an unassuming facade. One almost wouldn't even know it was a tattoo parlour were it not for the confluence of alternatively dressed and openly pierced men loitering around.

We had to wait a bit before anyone came to help us (and there were a lot of us) I assume this was a strategy to weed out the curious. Brad, Jennifer and I were the only ones who were getting tattoos (though I was still not convinced) When I did speak to someone and he told me the price....I said OH HELL NO! $150 - $200 for a foot print. Not bloody likely. Now I am not one to put a price on art. I completely understand the whole creative process. But I'm not asking for a portrait...Just a stupid little foot. I said NO.

Kim Vanbrunt said she would give me some cash and I could put the rest on my card. Brad reiterated 'now you can say you got a tat at Miami ink' It didn't mean much to me really....But...When in Rome right? (besides, I would have a story to tell...I just didn't know how much of a story) SO! I forked over Kimmy V's cash and a card of my own and sat and waited for my 'artist' to be ready for me.

My guy sounded a bit dubious about it.
'You want a foot???!!!'
But he drew it out for me. I asked for a toe ring, he agreed to it and we were in business. As you can maybe tell in the pic, I got it at the nape of my neck. I hurt like a mother. As you might know, after a while the pain was kind of cleansing in a masochistic way. My guy was getting into it. I heard him laughing and saying
"This looks awesome! The toe ring came out great!" That made me happy. When we were done he showed it to me. It looked like it could be a foot...Once it healed. So I said thanks and traipsed on my merry way. I still wasn't convinced that I needed a tattoo, but there was no going back now.

Later that night as we were all preparing for bed (I was staying in the same hotel as the Kims) It was time to take off the bandages and inspect the 'art'. I took mine off and stood with my back to everyone waiting for the verdict. It was strangely silent. Brad broke the silence.
"It's a penis."
His wife and my friend immediately admonished him "BRAD!!!!" and tried to reassure me "NO it doesn't!"
"Yes it does...Look" I heard Kim shush him "there are the balls and the tip." he defended himself as he giggled a little.
I felt the blood rush to my head. I ran to the bathroom. Kim saying behind me "Meghan it really doesn't"
"Mirror please" was all I said. I stood with my back to the mirror dreading looking. pleaseopleaseoplease don't let it look like a penis. To my horror, it most sincerely did. (unfortunately I don't have a pic...Cause it's funny now) The foot was there...but it was his 'artistic' shading that conveyed the perverted undertones. Think of the balls of your feet as just that with the heel of your foot as the head. Because you have an arch in your foot, the side of a foot print is a narrow shaft with a bulbus end to it....curving to the right. Did you remember the tat was blue? ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Talk about buyers regret. Not a damn thing I could do about it. I was inconsolable for about 30 minutes. It became the elephant in the room that everyone was looking at but no one would talk about.

That night I didn't sleep well. The tattoo was still a bit sore so made its depraved presence known to me while I slept on my back. Sleeping on my stomach didn't help either. I knew it was there. All I could think about was my 'artist' no wonder he was laughing.

The morning came with new clarity. I would just go back and have him fix it. However I had to work and I was going home that following weekend. The penis would just have to wait. Needless to say I told no one what I did that weekend.

When I went home for the weekend I had a few beers and ended up telling two friends of my paint faux pas. I don't think I've heard them laugh so hard, EVER! I was then dubbed 'penis back' for the remainder of the night and all the next day as we watched the Broncos get their asses beat in the Superbowl playoff thingy (I think they got beat by Pittsburgh) What could I do. I actually WAS a penis back.

Back in Miami I had to wait another week before I could go off to Miami Ink and be 're-touched' (which may be a bad word choice) I was dreading it. This time I had to go alone. I waited until Sunday afternoon. Shyly I approached the plain building. There weren't as many people there this time. I stood at the desk, not quite knowing what to say. A guy comes up to me.
"What can I do for you?" I told him how I got a tattoo here two weeks ago and it isn't quite what I wanted.
"What did you want?" he instantly sounded annoyed. I sheepishly told him that I wanted a foot and got a penis.
"Let me see the tattoo." I bowed my head forward much like someone would if they were preparing it for the guillotine.
"Ma' am' would you move your hair!" Oh shit...I'm all of a sudden a ma'am. This can't be good. "Who did your tattoo?!'"he demanded. I didn't know his name...but I did have his pic. So I pulled out my camera and showed him. It looked like the guy standing in the corner.
"OK, go stand over there we'll have someone come out to help you." I nervously stood, looking at the guy who I thought was my 'artist'. Some other guy comes out this time.
"Can I help you?"
I said I would like to have my tattoo re (em) touched.
"Let me see the tattoo." I presented the offending ink.
"And what's wrong it?" He said defensively.
"It's a penis on my back. That is not where I usually like my penises to be.' I replied. He didn't laugh.
"When did you get this done?" he asked.
"Two weeks ago." I said again.
"YOU HAVE TO WAIT LONGER THAN THAT TO RE DO IT!!!"
"I don't live here.....please!!!!" I begged.
About that time my 'artist' came over and said something like 'Hey...what's up...I remember you.' I told him my sad tale. He took one look at the tat and started cracking up.
"OH my god...I did draw a penis on you!!! Come on girl I'll fix you up."
The blood came back to my face at that point. I said a silent prayer both of thanks and one that he doesn't render his 'artistic' eye in a new way on my back.
Once I sat down, he told his ink mate,
"Hey dude, look what I gave this chick...a penis!" His mate leaned over and said...
"Yep and it leans to the right no less" Then I added...
"Don't forget the cock ring" My 'artist' looked in closer and let out a big gaffaw when he remembered the toe ring. He was totally cool about it but the others in the 'gallery of rogues' kept looking our way.
"Hey (forgot his name) I thought you didn't do re-touches"
"Only this one time." He replied.
Once he was done filling in the foot, he let me look at it again. Not like I would be able to distinguish the subtle shading under all the blood. So I said
"Yeah that will be good."
He said "Yes it is." in a way that told me he would not 'fix' it again.
I gratefully skipped out of there. NEVER TO RETURN. I haven't really looked at it since. Others have told me that there are no phantom penises on my back. That's good enough for me right now.
Now I'm not going to say don't go to Miami Ink. Brad and Jennifer had a great experience and my 'artist' was kinda cool about it all. But make no mistake, they are defiantly full of themselves there. Be prepared to pay exorbitant prices for even the smallest of tats. Mine was just a wee foot of one color.
Thus ends that story.....but wait...I've not yet left Flordia. There is one more story to tell.

2006-02-07T17:51:00.000-08:00

While I was there I became totally addicted to Cafe Cuban. OH MY GOD that stuff is good.
For those of you who have yet to have the tasty pleasure, it is basically half expresso and half sugar. But don't bother with anything you find in the store pre-made. Unless you have it made by a zaftig little lady in a blue uniform with a white apron who doesn't speak a lick of english it just doesn't taste the same. OH man I wish I had some now. Oh I also became addicted to plantains. I had some for dessert everyday for 4 weeks. Oh and Guava pastries. Those are good. Then there is the cuban sandwich...those are quite tasty. Yeah, I like cuban food.

All things begin with a beginning

2006-02-06T16:07:00.000-08:00

I always said that blogging was stupid. You know that old saying that opinions are like ass holes...everyone has one. I wasn't too keen to either know about others or talk about mine. Yet, here I am...
I thought it might (only just might) interest my friends and family to keep up with me on my travels. It took me only 2 months to get my Christma-Newyear-entine card out to everyone. While I enjoyed the writing, it was the posting that got me. The stamp increase, the expired address from all my wandering friends (and...err....bad info from an expired palm pilot...let that be a lesson to you all...keep a current back up of your palm pilot)
So I decided to give this blogging thing a try.

So, the new job took me to Miami for the month of January. I think everyone here knows my distaste for the Sunshine state. I'm sorry to say that my opinion has not changed. Though I did meet new friends whom I would love to visit...but they would probably have more fun here :)

I met up with some old friends too, my Kims. Kim Parker and Kim VanBrunt. Parker works for Media General at a station (WJWB) in Jacksonville FL. VanBrunt worked for Marketron (a competitor to my company VCI) and lives in Tampa. We all met at Enterprise/Encoda/Harris in Colorado Springs.

ANYWAY...
VanBrunt and I were in Miami the weekend of Jan 13 working. Parker and her husband flew out to meet us. The Kims have a friend Diane who lives in Miami and Diane brought her friend Jennifer (who flew in from New York) Diane later introduced us to Albert and Josh. So it was a full night. We went to the Hard Rock Casino, had dinner and went to the Comedy Store. (I think that was the name of it) The head liner was Dave Atel whom (is that right...whom?) I love. He was good. The guy before him was....different and just a bit scary. I don't remember names. (come on now..you know me better than that)

So, Guy in way back with smirk = Brad. Guy with big smile = Albert. Me. VanBrunt. Woman with khaki jacket = Parker. Jennifer. Diane. Josh.

That was taken at the casino. I'm surprised we all looked so good. It was very early in the morning and the drinks at the Comedy Store were not weak!!! If you want to see more photos of the night...go to my picture trail link.

That was about it for that night. But wait...there's more.