Dear Writers/Creators of the Show "Prison Break",

I hate you. Bloody hate you. What the fuck do you mean "hiatus until March"? Do you know how much bullshit that is? You cannot take 36 hours in the life of a rag-tag group of prison breakers and turn it into 3 months of questioning and other such bullshit. FUCKERS! Do you realize that I now have to get a life on Monday nights? Do you realize what you've done to me? You....FUCKERS!

You see, I love your show. Really I do. Sure it could never happen in 2 kabillion years. Sure it's totally contrived. But it rocks. And as a woman married to a graduate student, Michael Scofield is the closest I'll ever come to a prison lover. You cannot take that away from me.

Especially not in the way that you did. My stomach was seriously cramping last night I was so excited to see them get out. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? THEY DIDN'T. See, you bastards took my show away from me and you didn't even let them get out. So I'm going to have to go through that stomach cramping thing again. And that sucked. So I'm pissed. Really pissed.

And by the way, what the fuck happened to John Abruzzi? Alive or dead? For fuck's sake, this is ridiculous.

Goddamn you, writers/creators of the show "Prison Break." Goddamn you all.

Love,
Morgan

P.S. Is this the result of that bad karma I get for reading and making fun of she-who-will-not-be-named's blog? If it is, it is so not worth it. But I'm not sure I could stop reading it if I tried.

An Ode to Karma

Ok, ok. I shouldn't have titled this entry that. After all, I am not an expert on karma. I must admit that any knowledge I have of it comes mostly from My Name Is Earl, with just a tad from the Buddhism class I took in college (which, as we all know, was more to stare at the professor that it was to fulfill any aching religious need for knowledge). But here lately, I feel like I must be doing something right, because I have been pretty doggone lucky. So I'm hoping that it's karma. For example:

Good Things that Have Happened to Me
1. Found a nice house in California despite depressing rental market.
2. Landlord lowered rent on said house.
3. Got good job for a nonprofit.
4. I actually enjoy said job.
5. Sold old clothes on Ebay, made money.
6. Family Guy came back to Fox.
7. Got a nice haircut (albeit an expensive one...but, seriously, it's a damn fine haircut).
8. Nice lady(not a random, met-you-on-Bart lady, mind you, she's my boss's wife) took me shopping because she said I was "competant" and "cute" and she wanted me to have nice things.
9. Have met lots of new, nice people in California.

And the list goes on, if I included the little things that have made life nice (like, for example, the other morning I was speeding and passed a cop, but he didn't give me a ticket when he could have). So, I figure, I must be doing something right. The trouble is, I can't think of any outlandishly good deeds I have done (except once I bought a homeless guy a sandwich, and I have a habit of feeding meters for people just so they won't get tickets). But I'm just a normal, busy person--I don't volunteer anywhere really, I don't teach inner city school children. I don't really deserve to be lucky I don't think.

But then I think about this other person whose blog I read (and who, actually, has shown up in these writings more than she should). This girl cannot catch a break. She can't get a good job, she's always homesick, she has no friends, an apartment next to her burns down, she's upset, she's depressed, and she has back trouble. It's wretched, it really is. It's like a way too long naturalistic novel. I swear. So I'm thinking: what is the difference between us? Why is she miserable and me not? I mean, we both live thousands of miles away from our families, we both have significant significant others (I'm married, she's engaged), we are roughly the same age with college degrees and we both like to write but can't make it our livlihood because of bills and such. I think..maybe it's karma. Maybe I'm a better person? That can't be it.

After lots of thinking, (seriously, I sat around and thought about this) I come to the conclusion that maybe I am a bit better, but not at being a person, but rather at seeing life as fun and wonderful and all that stuff. You can't go through life expecting everything to suck, which is what this girl does I think. And she makes everyone around her sick (except, of course, for me, who derives sick pleasure from reading her pained meanderings, but that's another issue altogether...and not an issue that is probably garnering me a lot of positive karma). If you do that (expect life to suck that is), it will suck. You can't avoid it. I think that you make your own karma or luck or whatever. If you're out there trying to be good and screwing up a little but overall you're just having a good time, good things will happen. If you're out there trying to be good and screwing up a little but overall you're a whiny sack of shit, bad things will happen.

That's it. It's ooey and gooey and oh so sickeningly sweet, but that's what I'm thinking today. Be good, my sweet potato balls. But most importantly, be happy. And smile. I think that get's more good karma than anything.

Happy Thanksgiving to All!

So it's that time of year again. The time of year when I bust my ass making a huge dinner for just myself and my husband that we will invariably have to eat for two weeks or until we puke at the sight of sweet potatoes. But, you know, it's a good time of year.

As I write, the Lion's Club is hanging up lights all along our street, and it's all festive, and I could just pop really. I actually love Christmas, love it more than I care to admit. The other day I was talking to a friend who happens to be British, and was explaining both Matt and my collective love of all things holiday-related and she said "That's so American." And it is. But I love it anyway.

We are going shopping today to start buying our gifts. After I get off work(yes, I am posting to my blog at work) and Matt gets out of class, that is. Why people want others to work on the day before Thanksgiving is beyond me. I'm not doing anything. I am wasting precious electricity just by sitting here with the lights on and looking at the internet. But I have to be here until 2. It's a good thing I'm off for the rest of the week, or I would just have to go ballistic and angrily wrap the Chamber door in gawdy silver garland.

I should go to Ebay and see if that green sweater is still on there....I should bid...no,I shouldn't....oh yes I should....

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, MY SUCCULENT DRUMSTICKS!

My name is Morgan, and I'm an Ebay-aholic

Since I found out today that the two of you who read this really miss my posting (or maybe Katie was just trying to be nice...), I have decided to start doing so a little more frequently. And Katie is not the only reason (sorry, Katie). I need something a little cheaper to do while I am on the internet. Allow me to explain.

When I first got my new job, I found myself in a quandry over my somewhat limited wardrobe. I had lots of your typical college girl attire--ill-fitting chinos, button up shirts with odd patterns on them, long sleeve t-shirts, and sweatshirts with hoods and various incarnations of the letters "W" & "M". However, I severely lacked those things which one wears to a job that doesn't involve the steaming of milk. I had a bit of money to spend on new things (graciously donated by my well-dressed stepmother), but not enough to get everything I needed. Plus, my closet was stuffed with things that I hadn't worn since I was 18 and hadn't remembered since I was 20 (why I packed it and carried it across the country behooves me now).

So I consulted the oracle of Ebay, pledging that I would sell the offending outfits and take the money to buy more things. At first it was easy. I made $176 pretty quickly, and was about to take it out of my Paypal account and put it into my real account when I got another earth-shattering idea. Couldn't I just spend it on Ebay, getting nice things like that that I was selling for even nicer prices? It was a good idea. And very soon, I had found and ordered several things that still had the tags on them and were still in stores and had paid very good prices. Yes, it was a good thing.

But then things got ugly. Pretty soon (actually, in a day) I had spent the $176, but I still felt like I needed more stuff. And then I found this pair of Seven Jeans that were just amazing looking, still had the tags, and were just my size. So before I knew it, I was engaged in a one on one battle in the final closing seconds, finally putting up $70 (which doesn't sound like so much, but you have to realize that they started out at $10) for the jeans and gloating over my victory. I'm serious. It was insane. I was sitting at this computer, out of breath and panting, constantly reloading the page and making my bid higher. At one point I forgot what I was bidding on--I just knew that I wanted it and that I wanted iluv2bid from Duluth to get the fuck away from whatever it was we were fighting over. After it was over, I felt like I had just had sex. It was that good. And, unlike sex, I had a new pair of great fitting jeans to show for it.

Today it reached new stages of ugliness. I am currently planning our Holiday Party at work, so I have been pretty excited about it. I knew I needed something really awesome to wear--something young but classy. I had scoured websites, and not really found what I was looking for. But then, I was trolling Ebay, and found the dress. A Banana Republic beauty, originally $225, still with tags, and still in stores. Hell, I had seen it in the Emeryville store, and wanted it then, but knew it was out of my price range. But here it was, with an opening bid of $39.95, which I could so totally afford. So I plopped my bid down, and just assumed that I would get it, as no one else seemed to be biting.

Enter amt_racing_39. Overnight, this chick bid it up to $75. So when I got to work this morning and checked out the dress that I expected to win, I was no longer in the running. Needless to say, between the hours of 9 and 10 at work today, I didn't do a damn thing. I just bid. And sweated. And sucked at a water bottle. My stomach went into knots, I let the voice mail get the phone, I threw my high heel at a working ceramic heater (probably not the smartest thing I've ever done). But an hour and $160 later, I was the owner of a new Banana Republic dress.

Yes, that's right. $160. My entire budget for the whole thing (dress, shoes, jewelry, hose and all) was $200. If I had stopped and thought, I would never have paid that much for the dress. In fact, I haven't paid anything yet. I'm still in shock. I just keep imagining Matt throwing my lifeless body into the bay when he sees how much I paid for an Ebay dress. Yes, an Ebay dress. I'm going to have to buy my shoes at freaking Payless. Seriously. That is, if I'm not swimming with the fishes.

So help me. Help me please. Seriously. I'm nearly dying to go over there and check out what's new right now. I know there's a Juicy Couture jacket that I want, and it's ending today. How sad is that? God, I suck.

On Drinking Gin and Tonics with Old Men and Other Sordid Tales from the World of the Sell Out

So tonight signalled my first foray into the wonderful world of the shmooze party, or as I like to call it "Ass Kissing Fest '05." I donned my best black pants, a pair of heels, some big ole earrings and my sparkliest lip gloss and headed off to the trenches, unsure of what to expect from my first party with my new job. Here's what I learned:

1. Business/community parties like these are a great place for old men to buy young girls drinks. And if you're the youngest girl in the room by about 25 or so years, you can drink free, and honey, you can drink well. You can drink them under the goddamn table if you want, because even if you're under there passed out, if your glass is empty and one of the dudes sees it, you're getting another drink.

2. But don't feel bad, young girl, because everyone else is drunk too. Here's how I figure it. The drunker you are: the more ass you can kiss (or are willing to kiss): the better employee/board member/councilwoman you are.

3. People love business cards. In fact, by the end of the night, the only words some people could manage was "Do you have my card?"

4. When getting picture made for the Town Talk section of the newspaper, put down your G&T first. It's not like I managed to do that or anything, but you know, for next time.

5. Despite all the festivities, there will be one person who wants to talk shop when you're standing on the sidewalk, trying to dial 411 on your phone to get a cab. Just nod a lot, and get her to come in to the office for a sit down tomorrow. At least I hope that's what I should have done. I guess I'll find out tomorrow if I'm not threatening death upon all the old men who bought me drinks because of my evil, evil hangover.

So it was a good time, if a bit uncomfortable at times. But, all jokes aside, I couldn't help thinking the whole time I was there that College Morgan would not really like Post-Grad Morgan with her $50 haircut and her 3 inch heels and her annoying fake laugh that cannot possibly convince anyone but drunk old men that something is remotely funny. It was weird. Moreover, it was the first time that I've ever really really felt like a grown up. Funny that it happened when no one around me was really acting like a grown up. I just kept thinking, "I should be home right now, eating Chinese out of a box, not eating seafood linguine with some dude who's trying to sell me life insurance and keep my wine glass filled."

And then I came home and Matt was all excited about some French novel he's reading and he told me about it, and I felt like I was around someone sane for the first time all night, and it made me feel good. I didn't understand a word he said about the book--I just know that it made me feel good. Like I was Morgan again--not Assistant Director Morgan, but Queen Morgan of Crap TV and Good Book fame.

I should go. I should really post more often to this thing...I feel a bit better (and a bit more sober) just typing this.