tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78776062011-04-21T19:42:41.285-07:00Megannoreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7877606.post-1112587100859868932005-04-03T23:27:00.000-07:002008-02-25T05:57:35.612-08:00Ever since I can remember I've wanted to make people laugh. Coming from a house where my parents' marriage has been less than ideal more often than not, laughter is something I've always taken solace in. No arguments can happen if everyone is busy laughing. I started watching Saturday Night Live and other sketch comedy shows in grade four, I'd sneak out into the living room after lights out and turn the volume on the television down as low as it could go in order to avoid being caught. Soon after that I moved on to stand-up; watching stand-up comedy for me felt very much like riding my bike without training wheels for the first time. That sense of excitement and wonder; to think that people could actually make a career out of making others laugh. I went through stages of obsession with different comedians, jumping from one to another; trying to learn as much as I could from each one as I went along. Eventually reality set in and I realized that my inability to speak in front of both small and large groups could become a problem in my ideal career choice. It was right around that time when I decided I wanted to be a writer. I've never had a passion for reading, although I do tend to get caught up in books and will not put them down until I have finished reading the entire thing. I wanted to be a writer because I wanted to paint pictures for people using nothing but my words. I wanted to create something beautiful to share with others, so I started incorporating story telling into all of my writing. I used stories about myself to draw together the commonalities between the fantastic and the everyday. It was the love of story telling that eventually lead me to enroll in English Studies at university. English Studies would allow me to learn about the greats of literature, all the while expanding my vocabulary enough to make me sound smart. It seemed like the perfect plan. So now I have realized that, though I may love to write, I more than likely will never become a writer. I "blog" as an outlet. It is a way to express myself through my words. It is kind of an idealistic situation, I write what I want to and don't need to fear criticism. If people like what I write, they leave comments.. if they don't they say nothing at all.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7877606-111258710085986893?l=pseudonymcontd.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Megannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7877606.post-1091799078022790292004-08-06T05:41:00.000-07:002008-02-25T06:14:12.846-08:00- My go-to dance move is the running man; it always has been.<br />- I procrastinate like it is nobody's business and am disturbingly good at coming up with excuses<br />- I feel, with great certainty, that I am probably going to burn in hell for taking advantage of the trusting nature of various university professors in order to avoid getting penalized when handing in late assignments.<br />- I have a pierced tongue (circa 2000)<br />- I can play the flute<br />- I speak French fluently (or at least I used to and still pretend I can)<br />- Though I keep my bedroom somewhat messy, I alphabetize my DVD's and get fidgety if they are out of order<br />- I have a 1974 Westfalia Volkswagen Weekend Camper<br />- I own a karaoke machine and enjoy singing to myself while imbibing large quantities of liquor<br />- I have a predisposition to plumber bum due to several generations of sewer contractors on my father's side<br />- I eat a disgustingly large amount of spinach because I secretly dream of becoming Popeye<br />- I named my dog after a TV character and now feel more than a little embarrassed/self-conscious whenever I tell people his name. As a result of this, I have simply taken to calling him "Dog"... <em></em><br />- I <strike>am</strike> <span style="font-style: italic;">was</span> an English major <strike>who has</strike>, <span style="font-style: italic;">but still</span> have no grasp of proper grammar<br />- I really became an English major so that I could learn big words and sound smart<br />- In my four years of university, I did not learn any big words and, if possible, became even less articulate<br />- I drool while I'm asleep... a lot...<br />- I drool while I'm awake... a lot...<br />- Sparkly pens make me happy<br />- I have the ability to sleep over twenty-four hours in a row<br />- I do not like it when people wear socks with sandals, this is doubled if they are wearing thongs (the underwear, not the sandals)<br />- I once drove by a Sobey's and saw a couple who had been having sex in the parking lot for over two hours. I honked at them and gave them the thumbs-up. I do not think they appreciated this as they were gone by the time I came out of the store.<br />- When I was 7 I wanted to be a comedienne. Now I would just like to be employed.<br />- Some people don't like my crotch.. actually, that's part of a song by Peaches and Iggy Pop. I just thought it would be funny to say that. I've never actually surveyed anyone about their opinion of my crotch, but if I do I will let you know.<br />- I once worked at a diner that was started in 1930, and I would sing as loudly as I could while working in the kitchen. I would also randomly take off my pants. I can't really explain why.<br />- I can do ten shots of vodka in a row without even feeling it.. I don't know if I'm bragging about that, or saying it shamefully<br />- I don't like moose, they are big and they scare me. I also find them to be incredibly egotistical.<br />- One night outside of my residence building, I randomly saw a pair of mallard ducks. At first I was excited because they kept coming closer and closer to me. I thought we were friends. Eventually they began to waddle away from me, and I was left with a feeling of contentment for the 'moment' we'd shared. That lasted until the male duck ran back and bit me in the leg. It bruised. I felt used.<br />- I once attended a university English class beyond hungover and when the teacher came to me with a question I waved her off<br />- I once peed in a plastic cup to prove to my friend that my urine is cloudy. It was not much (I have performance problems) and I felt dirty afterwards. My friends did it too so that I would not feel alone, then they kept the urine in a fridge for several days. I judged them for peeing in a cup.<br />- I still start to feel sick whenever I think about that (which is, thankfully, not that often)<br />- Once my sister dared me to use Nair on my eyebrows... and I did..<br />- I once bought a home pregnancy test because I was bored. When I was leaving the store it caused the alarm to go off. A clerk came over and told me that it was probably my 'medicine'. I had no clue what he was talking about. I also worry about what kind of medicine he takes, clearly taking a pregnancy test is not going to 'clear' my pregnancy up...<br />- In kindergarten, my teacher, Mrs. Osbourne, used to tell me that I talked too much. She drove this point home by taking out her acoustic guitar and singing a song called, shockingly enough, "You Talk too Much" (by Joe Jones).<br />- I have enough underwear to last me a year, without washing them once.<br />- I once saw Ellen Degeneres on tour. I laughed so hard that I wet myself (almost)<br />- I just noticed that I talk about urine a lot. I don't know what that says about me.<br />- My doctor thinks I have an angelic face and makes excuses to see me<br />- After I had my very first physical, he called me into his office a few days later. I thought he was going to tell me I was dying, but really he just wanted to see me before I went away to school again.<br />- I own a unicycle<br />- I think I could be good with a unicycle, but the tire on it is flat and my father hung it up on a wall that is too high for me to reach.<br />- I like big butts (and I cannot lie)<br />- I frequently make typos, while writing e-mails after I've just woken-up, that completely change the context of the whole e-mail<br />- I still use my fingers whenever I need to do multiplication that involves the number 9<br />- I've ridden a camel......... at the zoo<br />- I have this theory that if I wear the proper pair of days-of-the-week underwear, that actually matches what day it is, I will excel at everything I do that day.<br />- For some reason I still have faith in that theory, even though I've failed numerous tests while adhering to it...<br />- Old men like to hit on me, while guys my own age - not so much...<br />- I talk to myself. Out loud. In front of other people.<br />- I once stuck a piece of gum on a tree in the shape of an 'M'.. It stayed there for 7 years.<br />- I get nervous when I call someone for the first time<br />- I frequently get other people to do my calling for me because of that<br />- I cannot watch programs about the end of the world, otherwise I am afraid for weeks that my appliances will turn against me.<br />- After someone I know dies I feel uncomfortable being naked because I worry that, if there is an after-life, they are watching me<br />- In the movie <em>Dogma</em>, Chris Rock said that the dead pretty much just sit around and watch the living. It made me feel like my whole naked-fear was justified.<br />- I have an electric toothbrush and it is awesome<br />- I have a fear of bigfoot, even though everyone I know tells me that bigfoot does not exist. How can they be sure?<br />- I once woke-up in the middle of a baseball field without a shirt on. Why? I wish I could tell you, but to this day I am not entirely able to recall the events that lead up to my shirtless morning.<br />- I cannot do the splits.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7877606-109179907802279029?l=pseudonymcontd.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Megannoreply@blogger.com8