ATTACK CAT!!!!

So in case you find yourself in the situation where you have a cat's claw stuck in your FACE and you are trying to find a way out of said situation without having said claw rip through your skin to be removed, I have a simple plan for you to follow. First off, get a solid grip on that cat to insure that the feline does not make the claw removal decision itself. Then, scramble about with your sister for a bit while your collective minds try to find a way to cause the least amount of damage to the face in question. (In the mean time, be sitting there with the thought running through your mind "I am going to have to experience an intense amount of pain, and I am going to have to know exactly when that pain is coming if I can't keep a grip on this cat, and man does that suck") Then, consider all options while trying to keep calm, and then finally, since the cat's claw is shaped in a circular fashion, you'll find that rolling the claw back in to itself is the only way to get it out of your face without it coming out horizontally (which is the BAD way).
Keep in mind, you'll need to clean and disinfect the wound to avoid nasty infection (these are the paws that wipe through kitty litter), but it won't really leave a mark, and it will just sting a bit for the next day. All in all, a potentially traumatic experience can be gotten out of as long as you try to stay calm and your sister is there to help. And I know this, unfortunately, from yesterday's first-hand experience. Good times.


BLANKET REQUEST OF THE DAY

Could we PLEASE keep our eyes on the freakin' road, people? I have had to pull TWO Secret-Service-the-President's-in-trouble-and-we-need-to-screech-in-a-circle moves on the road in the last two days, and it's got to stop.

AND NOW...I'M 24

Okay folks, here's the rundown of the birthday festivities. My birthday was August 27th (same day as Mother Theresa...no relation) and this year I turned a whopping 24 years old! Whew...and now I'm exhausted. I Spent the actual day with my friends in San Diego (Eliza and Dave, you rock my world) and then Saturday I had lunch with my Mom and then dinner with the G-units, Mimi and Pop, and then that night I spent time with Matt (which was lovely) and today I had to work. Work was uneventful and brief, and then after work my friends and I hung out at a local bar (I had a vodka cranberry, hold the vodka), and now I am home and my friends are still partying. This year has been a good one, I have to say, because it feels like my birthday celebration just keeps on going. My sister deserted me for an "education seminar" which I am convinced is code for "partied in Vegas with some strippers and a pimp", but that's cool, and Tuesday night we're going to have dinner. I missed my Pa, but we spent a lot of time when they were in a couple of weeks ago, and I am still strumming away diligently on the acoustic guitar that he bought me. I have always been able to sing, so making music that way is nothing new for me, but hearing the complete chords when I do things right is tripping me out, and I am really enjoying learning all of the ropes of guitar playing slowly and steadily. I pick it up everyday.

Other than that, the party rages on (in my head) and I think 24 is going to be a kick-ass year.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"And it's you I see, but you don't see me. And it's you I hear, so loud and so clear. Sing it loud and clear...I always be waiting for you."

Coldplay

ROBBIE WILLIAMS IS A GOLDEN GOD

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my life is now complete...I have met Robbie Williams. Whew. Good times. He came in to my workplace yesterday with a couple of friends, one of those friends being Max Beesley, whom is also ridiculously gorgeous. Robbie was looking scruffy and glorious, as I expected he might. And there he was, sitting anonymous in the middle of the restaurant because no one knows who he is in America. This is insane, because he's the number one male pop star in every single country BUT America. He cannot walk down the street without being mobbed EVERYWHERE else but here, so I guess he comes here to relax from all of the madness. I had a table with a family from Italy that was just amazed that A: He was actually there, and B: That no one else in the place seemed to care. This was just incomprehensible to them. "You mean, no one here knows who he is?" "Yup." "That's crazy."

It would be like Madonna and Brad Pitt walking in to the local Mc Donald's, and no one even acknowledging that they are there. A big, handsome, way too sexy elephant sitting at table 241. Fabulous. I will never complain about coming to work again. I'm set. And yes, I talked to him, and he thanked me for liking his music. (I think he was a little surprised I knew whom he was.)

For a little perspective, if you have no idea who I am talking about, two years ago he singed the biggest recording contract in HISTORY for 150 MILLION DOLLARS. Five albums. 150 mill. Wha?! That's huge. And he couldn't hail a cab in America if he needed one. Madness.

And on another note, regarding another fabulous male, this time my favorite sports figure, Mr. Michael Owen, I must say that I am SUPER stoked that he got bought by Real Madrid. For those who don't follow international soccer (and if you don't, you're a fool in fool's clothing) Real Madrid is in the Primera Division, the Spanish soccer league, and is home to some of the most amazing players the world currently has. David Beckham, Ronaldo, Raul, and now, my boy, Owen. He will be wearing number eleven, a departure from his standard ten, which I think Ronaldo already claims. All of these players on one team? Insane. The'll be unstoppable. To carry on my Helpful American Analogies for this post, it would be like having Jordan, Dr. J, Magic, and whatever else great basketball player you can think of, all on one amazing team, ready to kick some ass. Can't wait. I will continue to be a Liverpool fan, but now I must extend my allegiance to the Primera, and of course, to RM. Here's to the start of a beautiful friendship.

STALKER UPDATE

He hasn't come in a couple of days, so, I am hoping, disaster averted. Fingers crossed.

I AM BEING STALKED

Hello everyone...my name is Meghan, and I have a stalker. Hell, I think I might be a little flattered...I am not even famous yet. YET! Moving on. I won't go in to the messy details of my delusional friend, but let me just say I feel sorry for the scores of girls that come to Hollywood to pursue their dreams of stardom, only to be taken advantage of somewhere along the way by a man with a good line and bag-full of promises to make all of their dreams come true. It amazes me that the old cliche of "Hey, I'm a manager with (blank) company and I see something great in you...let me set you up with this director...you're perfect for this part I'm casting..."is still apparently something that guys are still trying to get away with. For any young starlets our there, let me pass a little bit of advice from someone who has just gone through it;

1. Anyone worth their salt in this business (and even some that aren't) will have a business card with their company logo atatched...and believe me, EVERYONE loves giving their cards out...it's a status thing. If they won't/can't give you a card to verify credentials, they're full of sh@t.
2. I should have listed this first, but the old adage really does ring true...if it's too good to be true, it probably IS too good to be true.
3. Never, never, never, never meet someone at a strange place for a "casting" without bringing someone with you. Anyone legitimate in the business will understand the need for caution and safety for young women in this town, and if they don't understand it, they were going to find a way to hurt you in the long-run anyway, so you're better off cutting your losses right then. (This didn't happen to me, but I have heard too many stories)

This post is a little more serious than mine usually are, but so is the situation I now find myself in. How do you deal with an obviously delusional person that seems to honestly believe the line they are feeding you, but when you check-up on said persons "facts", they are, in reality, just fiction?

It sucks to have someone play on your hopes and dreams and feed you the lines you've been waiting to hear, only to have to find out that not only are the lines a lie, but now you're still nowhere closer to those dreams than you were the day before.

But I won't let this break me, and I won't let the mean spirit of one person change the hopeful spirit I have. This will all be an amusing antecdote for the Letterman interview one day in the future...and I'll get there because it's where I'm meant to be. It has to be someone, and why not me, right?



QUANDRY FOR THE DAY

How can we possibly deny the marital rights to two loving women or men that want nothing more than to make a life commitment to one another, and yet still allow Britney Spears to have a 55 hour sham of a marriage and Liz Taylor to have eight different husbands? Shouldn't we be afraid that the hypocrisy of it all will swell and choke us some day?

MAN, DID YOU MESS UP

It's a pretty sad day for the Republican party when my grandparents are actually considering not voting for the incumbent Republican president. Now, with no prior knowledge of said 'rents, I can understand that a statement like this might not seem so amazing. But these two people have been voting republican since they could vote...since the 1930's, people. Never once, in all of that time, have they ever even remotely swayed from their chosen party. But the bumbling of W has caused them to re-think their vote for this election, and they might actually do the unthinkable...VOTE DEMOCRAT!!! No! Surely not! Has the sky fallen? Are they wearing ski-jackets in hell? Madness. Madness I tell you!!

Oh, and can we talk about the wimpy-ass NBA basketball players that TURNED DOWN a spot on the Olympic team because they were afraid of attacks on the American team? Your country has asked you to step up, you're the best of the best, you get paid almost 300 times the amount my sister makes (my sister, the elementary school teacher, molding the minds of tomorrow), and you're too chicken-shit to bring home a gold medal to a country that could use a little nationalistic pride right about now? I wash my hands of you. (Not that I cared in the first place).

And finally, on this day of days, I wish to send a loud and boisterous HAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPY BIRTHDAY BROOKS! To my favorite brother-in-law. He's a mind-bending FORTY-YEARS-OLD today. Here's to sixty more, bro!


QUOTE OF THE DAY

To die; to sleep. To sleep; perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled of this mortal coil must give us pause.

Shake-it-baby=shake-it-baby-shake-it-don't-stop-speare.

LEMON-LYMAN.COM

I wonder if the "blog" community would turn on me like they did to the Josh Lyman character on "The West Wing" when tried to post on a site dedicated to him? If I don't post enough or don't make my posts interesting enough, will there be a virtual lynching? Scary thought.

I am trying not to become a political snob, but when a family of republicans came in to my store the other day wearing "Bush/Cheney" stickers on their chests, I felt myself giving them veiled dirty glances. Of this, I am ashamed. People are entitled to their opinions, not matter how sadistic and fascist they might be.

And on a completely different note, on the subject of my continued fascination with how random my work-place is, I was hosting a couple of nights ago and Hillary Swank walked in in scrappy jeans and a t-shirt and asks me if we have waffles. I replied that we didn't at that time (bear in mind, it's 11:30 pm when she walks in), and then she says "Are you sure?", and though I only answered that we didn't, in my head I'm thinking two things; 1. Am I sure? yeah...i think so...I do work here and I would probably know something like that for sure, and 2. Am I sure? Do you mean, could you possibly twist my arm and use your star power to asks my cooks to take out all of their breakfast equipment and ingredients just so you can have some waffles in the middle of the night? In that you are not the Pope or the President, nor are you Brad Pitt (I'd make ANYTHING happen for Mr. Pitt) I'm gonna have to say no.

FOOD DESIRE OF THE DAY


The Strawberry-Cheescake blizzard at Dairy Queen. Yum.