The Demise of America...

What is the demise? Is it the financial ruin we may face? The polarizing of our great nation over politics? Is it corn syrup?

The answers to the above are: NO. NO. and NO.

It is the TV programing of: The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and The Bachelor Pad.

I have never been an avid viewer of this garbage.

That is a lie.

I recall a certain group of hung over girls that chose to stay in their hotel room all day in New Orleans and watch an entire season of The Bachelor instead of facing the brutal heat, humidity, and raw sewage smell of the city.

Side note: New Orleans is a lovely and charming city, it is a city everyone should visit at least one. BUT DO NOT go there in August.

I have, on occasion, watched an episode to laugh at it and bolster my self esteem. I kept up with most of Jake's season. Mostly because that Jake is a complete tool and I was amazed that these women thought he was a catch. I assume all the bachelors are of this ... 'quality'.

The other night I helped myself to some Bachelor Pad. I don't really understand the premise of this show and that really doesn't matter. It was so terrible, I had to flee from my friend's apartment so I wouldn't have to watch another second.

Don't get me wrong, there is a huge comedy aspect to this crap programming. But, this Bachelor Pad situation has taken a turn. A bad turn.

You can only yell at a TV screen so much and tell someone they are out of their minds so much before it gets old. Then you just get filled with annoyance and anxiety which is not feelings anyone wants.

For instance: The part I saw is this Vienna moron getting worked up that Jake the Tool might join the group. How emotionally awful that would be. wa wa wa cry cry cry

I have a fucking crazy ass idea, VIENNA....if it is that horrifying, don't go on the TV show. YOU KNOW he might be on it. Why would you put yourself in a situation you claim to be so heart breaking?

For instance - A horrifying situation for me is getting mauled by a lion. Hence - I do all in my power to refrain from jumping into the lion exhibit at the local zoo. Even if the lions are not currently in the outside area...I still don't jump in!

Side note: I actually have been in the lion exhibit at Lincoln Park Zoo...but I was in on business and personally witnessed the lions were secured.

In another situation...a woman said that she was attracted to this man because he used 'big words'. In the scene before that...the 'big word' he used was: dysfunctional.

OHHHHHHH to be simple and consider dysfunctional to be a big word. I pray to all the gods currently and previously worshiped on this earth, the producers cut something out to make her look a fool.

I get this is all about ratings and this is what people like to see. But, I will not subscribe to this tomfoolery! EVERYONE STOP WATCHING THIS HORSESHIT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - BRING BACK THE SITCOM!

Oh wait...what do I hear?

Perhaps you assume I am just some bitter, old, single lady. A bitter, old, single lady that doesn't believe in true love. True, manufactured love that only elaborate, cross-country casting calls, several cameras, and a prime time network TV slot can supply.

NO.

Perhaps you think I hate this programming so much because I am not the type of girl that could be on it so....I MUST be jealous.

NO.

1. Let's discuss these men and women together:

What are these jobs they have?

Who has the ability to leave their job for several months to embark on an 'adventure of love'? This is sweet, sweet America. You are lucky if you get 3 weeks vacation in this country. The only way you get more than a month off and are guaranteed a job upon return is if a human being comes out of your vagina. I am not aware of the "I Am Pathetic And Need To Go On A Game Show To Find Love Act" that allows for this time.

Do they all have shit jobs?

When they say they are a 'marketing specialist' do they actually stock food at the grocery store and consider the arrangement of soup cans to be marketing?

Let's say they left a decent job for their 'journey of love'...have they seen the news? The world's economy isn't doing great. Do they expect to just jump into another job with 'The Bachelor/ette Pad' on their resume? What? Does that look good?

This must be the same mentality people use when spending $50K on an M.B.A. from an on-line university.

Newsflash: Wasted a whole lotta money and time on something that makes you look foolish and will get you nothing. Contrary to the ads...you are NOT a phoenix rising from the ashes...you are a dirty park pigeon eating out of an ash tray.

Oh wait - it IS SO endearing and romantic how they gamble everything on this 'journey'...isn't it?! They have such FAITH IN LOVE!! WHAT!?! WHAT!?! NOOOO!

Would it be adorable and touching if I my broke-ass drove my 2000 Jetta down to Vegas, hoisted the Jetta up on Red 5, and got all teary eyed and said into a camera "I just have so much faith in this process, I've never had luck here but I believe it it!!! I know that I'm gambling everything I have...but it will be worth it!"????

No. No. No. Dumb. You'd say I was an idiot.

2. Let's discuss the men:

I don't even want to be friends with or even remotely acquainted with a man that has toyed with the idea of being on this TV show.

It is gay to be a man on these programs. And by gay I mean both the controversial '80's/90's slang for lame and homosexual.

I can't imagine any dude I know wanting to appear of this program. I am cool. I have cool friends, not lame ones. Why would some lady want to be on this show? To meet lame dudes? I just don't get it. The dude selection is weak.

If they aren't lame, they are homosexuals. Homos that just can't admit they are homos. They have gone to great lengths to appear on a lame hetero dating show in an attempt to prove to Nana that they are straight and deserving of an inheritance. This is the only explanation...it is 2011...everyone is cool with gays. If you aren't cool with the gays - you are far more lame than the jags on The Bachelore/ette/ Pad.

3. Finally, the women:

They are all beautiful and hot. They have the outgoing personality to appear on TV.

Beautiful, hot, outgoing.....that is the recipe for finding a husband.

CLEARLY - these women are extremely and severely flawed in some manner that hides deep beneath the skin...a psychotic manner. THESE are the women that gave women the "crazy bitch' name. These are the women that guys go on a two dates with...dude doesn't call them again and before he knows it there is a rabbit boiling on his stove.

Again - only reasonable explanation.

OH...I hear it.....you are thinking one of two things:

a. But Mere, you are so stunningly beautiful and single in your old age, are you a crazy bitch?

Answer: NO. I am a fattie. A 5'9" fattie. Never been thin. I have always had the chub. I go up and down in weight dramatically, but have never been at an attractive weight. The cocktail for crazy and single is "beautiful, hot, outgoing". Not hot...also not outgoing...review the recipe.

b. You are just jealous of those beautiful, hot, outgoing girls!!!!!

Answer: NO. If I was hot and outgoing in addition to my amazing looks, grade-A sense of humor, and far above average intelligence...I would rule the world. Frankly, I don't want that kind of responsibility. This is an excellent example of how God is fair - no one gets it all. More importantly, I wouldn't waste my time on some TV show of jags if I was hot.

So there it is.

I demand everyone stop watching this bullshit. At the very least...only watch it on occasion. No need to keep ratings high. It is madness.

All I want in this world is America to be restored to the secure days during the Reagan administration...where TV programing was quality sitcoms about orphans and their golden retrievers residing legally with an old dude, where a midget black boy finds a home with a well-off white couple, where an ornery butler serves an average middle class family, or another average middle class family has a cat eating alien living with them.

These real America scenarios are far more realistic than a TV show about a bunch of a hot, attractive people who can't get a date.

Guarding....guarding....

I have been recently seduced by radio ads for the National Guard.

Maybe I should join the National Guard?!?! One weekend a month and 2 weeks per year. I can do that. I get a check and they pay for school. Sounds good!

This is how you get lured in. They sell it as helping your community.

Great! Super!

Then...reality set it.

#1 I am probably too old.

#2 I envision it as me throwing sandbags around when a random local river rises, beating down some unruly hippies at a Widespread Panic show, or maybe crowd controlling some drunk Croatians as an ethnic fest. This is probably not it.

#3 I thought maybe it would be like some mandatory monthly workout that I got paid for. I'd run around in mud, do a jig through some tires, scale a wall made of wood.

It is more likely I will have to wear camouflage and stand at attention or some shit which...would make me feel silly and then I would laugh.


Then...then...can you imagine? It is all Full Metal Jacket and some dude is screaming in my face "two things come from Chicago, people that work at banks and skanks, you don't look much like a banker!"

Then skank it is, sir!

Some high ranking officer would be screaming at me to climb the wall and I'd start crying like in Officer and a Gentleman or whatever movie I am thinking of.

Point is...I seriously considered this for about 12 hours - I went as far as to go on to the IL National Guard website. Which - by the way - SUCKS.

I can only assume someone in a military uniform will be buzzing my door in the next week. They know. They know I was looking.

Too bad I came to my senses. It's not all glorious sandbags and racially profiled crowd control.

Most importantly....I can not be disciplined at this age. I just can't. I can't take it seriously.

Maybe that is why there is an age limit on the military. My brain can not be properly washed, my soul not properly terrorized.

When I played rugby my coach was all over the forwards for being fat, lazy, and out of shape. My response: "Gary...you ever think maybe I don't want to be fit"

Not a good idea.

Hence...I would be discharged.

Naturally....

NATURALLY - the blizzard of 2011 would be followed by the heat wave of 2011.

I have 4 digits for you: 1995

That winter we had negative 60 wind chill ... followed by the death summer of heat.

No need to consult your Almanac...I am here.

I enjoy summers in Chicago. Ever since I moved back it has been mild. A couple stretches of 90 plus but for the most part a summer of 80 degrees. FANTASTIC! Beautiful! PERFECTION!

I should have known this would not last. Now...I am bitter.

That damn blizzard was the warning...from shit winters comes shit summers.

I am a bitter, angry, sweaty bitch.

I would take the lives of numerous puppies to have The Snowtorious B.I.G. roll its 9 foot snow drifts of furry through this town right now.

Show me a cute puppy...I'll snap its neck if you can guarantee me we can keep it at 85 degrees and below for the rest of summer.

I don't kid.

I'll snap the entire helpless litter's necks. That is how serious I am about hating this relentless heat.

Then....I'll kill your grandma.

I'll smother her with a pillow. I'll smother everyone's grandmother with a pillow if it means this heat is done. It is win - win. I get an enjoyable temperature and you get your inheritance. EVERYBODY wins on my plan.

I get it. We all don't agree on temperatures...The world don't move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you, may not be right for some. Diff'rent strokes to move the world and what not.

BUT - there is NOTHING tolerable about this weather. And let me tell you - the masses have spoken. Barely anyone is at the park: your casual book reader adult to your child in the playground to the old immigrants that drink wine and play bocce.





Most everyone is just looking out the window, "Oh look, it is sunny, it looks nice." They paw helplessly at the window like some kind of abused and forgotten shelter animal, awaiting its day of execution. They give a heavy sigh and walk away from the window, knowing it is not safe out there. No. It is not safe.

It is sad. This summer blows.

The Rickster

Ricky Gervais is by far one of the funniest people on planet earth.
He is a genius.
You like the US Office? That has nothing on his is humor. He kills.

I remember in AZ years ago my friend Charlie, urging me to listen to him and this fellow, Karl. Back in those olden days we didn't have the podcast and such.

If you enjoy a laugh......

This was the latest I got that killed me.

"A barefoot dwarf, around town. Which in some countries is evil"

How does one NOT throw their head back and laugh in hysterics?

Go to:

http://youtu.be/R2WdFgp6S3w

The Adventure of Ms. Tippee Canoe Part 2

I hate seagulls.

Sometimes they gather in mass quantities in the park across from my house and it sounds like a million children being tortured.

I was at the beach once and I thought someone threw a turkey sandwich at me. I became irate...wondering who threw it and where the sandwich vanished to. Then I realized...a seagull crapped on me.

Here is a gull:



Upon the Chicago River there is much diversity. One case is the diversity of the white duck. Some white ducks are normal...others are part of the Tea Party and enjoy sporting some kind of wig and toting a musket. You can't see the musket....but it was there.



I have an idea. Get yourself a pontoon boat, charge $30 per head for a haunted voyage on the Chicago River. Make up a bunch of crap and then sail past here. It is disturbing. The echoing sounds of the hounds of hell. It sounds like approximately 82 dogs trapped in a dungeon of some sort. DO NOT leave your dog at "Stay" in NorthCenter...or your dog will be part of this horrifying chorus.



I don't care for people that walk across sidewalks, blocking people like me. The people that walk at a fast pace. I certainly don't care for those that kayak across an entire river...thinking two fools would be able to navigate between them...



I enjoy telling people I use "the power of prayer" for nearly anything that seems inevitable without taking the proper precautions. For instance: last night the pilot light in my oven was out. I had smelled gas for over a week and kept turning on the burners...they work....must be fine. I never experienced a pilot light out in the oven. So, being an absurdly independent woman that likes to solve all problems by herself...IMMEDIATELY....I stuck my head in the oven and with a tiny match just started dicking around. The whole time...I knew this WAS NOT a good idea.

I relied on the power of prayer to keep me safe.

I did not rely on the power of prayer. It is just something I say when I act a fool.

I said this to some fellow river people. Amber was embarrassed. But then...like the beacon of truth..the steeple of a church emerged in the distance. Power of prayer ... indeed.



That's it. Amber and I will have more adventures one the river. I need a better shot of the spacious closet.

The Adventures of Ms. Tippee Canoe

Ever since I relocated myself to Chicago, I have been wanting to row on the river. AND....suddenly it is October and the option is no longer available....next year....next year, I tell myself. Like every good Cub fan says: Next year...

Well - it finally happened! And luckily I am still in possession of the flip cam. Petro family: you may have to pry it out of my cold dead hands. I realize you have your children's milestones to record...but I have canoe voyages on a river and drunken escapades to record....

Now if you keep up with my life you know I was put at the helm of a sailboat last year after I had a few drinks. Not pretty. Well...turns out: I just plain suck at steering a water vessel. Although at the end of the two hour trip I was awesome.

This was the first video. As you can tell from the melee of the first few moments...it is not wise for someone that has never operated a canoe to attempt to use a video recording device while operating said canoe.



It is like Deliverance out on the river. Just waiting for a banjo playing inbred mutant child and some toothless hillbilly that wants to make you squeal like a pig to pop out at any moment. I'm not sure that was the right tune I was doing...anyway - my canoe partner, Amber doesn't know that difference between a horsefly and a dragonfly. She continued to refer to them as horseflies throughout the voyage although I let her know they were dragonflies. I let it go. No big deal. But...I need something to write about in this blog.



We had several crashes into the banks of the mighty Chicago River. Naturally, I was quick with the video and quick to save us. I had it all under control. The screaming was when we were tipping....never tipped over!!!



Eventually we probably pissed off some dude on his boat. Again...we had no control of the canoe. Luckily when moving out of his way we happened upon some white ducks. The Mallard is so pedestrian...I know you want to see the white ducks. And you are all racist so if ain't white...



Even the poorest folk in Chicago can enjoy the luxuries of waterfront living. Here we see someone's nest. It is possible you can not tell but they had an extremely spacious closet and their walls were decorated with priceless art by perhaps The Latin Kings or another well known 'art' group of the area.



Then we came upon a small stretch of the Chicago River that is known as the Ft. Lauderdale of the Chicago River. * Note: I realize it is "Rollin" and not "Rowin" ... but I was rowing so...it was done.



We eventually we able to take in the beauty of nature and the absolute disgust of the river. The Chicago River is wilderness and the thrills of urban pollution married into one delightful yet horrifying package. On camera you will her Amber coining the phrase "Wurban". The Chicago river is Wuburn.

We ran across some kayakers and the gentleman rolled over. Not safe...NOT SAFE. Not because of the threat of drowning but more the threat of bacteria. His female companion tried to circle back and collect his lost water bottle as not to pollute. She had a hard time and I proclaimed "When in Rome, do as the Romans do". There is already so much garbage in that shit river it need not matter. OF course because I am a self-loving ego-maniac constantly looking to amuse and delight people...I again used the Roman thing when we landed our vessel when speaking of some gum wrappers.



That's it. I can't handle anymore....it ends at Wurban....

Walking, Sweating, Awesomeness...

There are 3 events I would win an Olympic Gold in if they were actual events:

1. Speed Walking
2. Sweating
3. Procrastination With Success

The Speed Walking:

It is odd, to say the least. I am not fucking around when I say I can speed walk faster than I can run. In my hay day I could walk faster than most could run. I've got people that can sign an affidavit on this. It is NOT normal. But...it is my skill. Clearly - I am a chub factory so it's not like I can run fast...but still. My speed walking is amazing. Wait - is this an Olympic sport? I hope for humanity it is not.

The Sweating:

Nothing to say here. Nothing to be proud of. I dislike those that don't sweat. I sweat opening up my mailbox. I refer to it as my highly evolved cooling system. I WILL NEVER....NEVER OVERHEAT...unless I find myself on Mercury. But even then - I'd like that challenge, call NASA.

There is a photo of the our solar system here. In the event...you should not know the order of the planets...and be put down like an old tired dog. (I know a 4 year old that can accurately name 5 of the planets...kill yourself if you can't) I'm just sayin'

The Procrastination With Success:

Yes, I know....everyone procrastinates. It is a disease that is taking over the human race. There are those that make excuses for their procras-disease, they say things like "I work well under pressure". I've been told by professionals that I need to think this about myself and stop being so hard on myself about my addiction to procrastination.

BUT - that is lame. There is a difference between 'working well under pressure' and 'being a lazy fool that likes to leave everything till the last minute'.

I am a both...more the later when it comes to normal life situations.

Working well under pressure?

What does that even mean? I don't know.

But I will tell you this: If you are in some type of emergency: you want me there. Although I am known for being a complete maniac, I can keep it together when the time comes and I have an AMAZING ability to bring up all things I've learned, been told, or trained to do:

Case 1:
My friends and I were in Mexico in the middle of no where and then again leaving a vacation spot and we were stopped by the Mexican Federales...who conveniently don't speak English (BULLSHIT). Please - get stopped in the middle of Baja California when you haven't seen another car in an hour and 4 Federales pull you over and saunter up to your car with GIANT whips, automatic rifles, and a Mexican smirk...Mexican prison here we come: SUDDENLY I CAN SPEAK some wicked awesome SPANISH. Ask me in any other occasion, all I can say is "Where is the bus", "It is not hear" "My name is Meredyth"......and that is it.

Case 2:
My friends and I wanted to play a joke on another friend and we spotted a toilet in an alley. I picked it up, by myself and was carrying it around.

On a funny side note: we were at a party later that evening and some guys= said "I saw the craziest thing earlier, this girl was carrying around a toilet like it was nothing" and I said "oh yeah....that was me"

It took two people and a struggle to remove said toilet from its joke spot: SUPER HUMAN STRENGTH. On a normal day, ask me to open a jar of spaghetti sauce and I am worthless.

Case 3:
I was driving down a long flat road with construction. It was raining. I was going about 50 - 60 and my tire went off the road. I turned my wheel slightly but it slippery. This caused my car to spin.

Have you ever had your steering wheel spin under your hands while the world spins by? Not comforting...that is pretty much what the moments before death look like.

It spun 450 degrees and I grabbed the steering wheel. Now I was going down the road side ways, my passenger window being my view of what is coming. That being a car coming in the opposite direction. Luckily WAAAY down the road because the fool decided it would be a good idea to proceed down a two lane road (one in each direction) when a car is spinning. FOOL.

This is all in slow motion, as is in these situations. The moment I caught the wheel and was skidding down the road, I let go and the wheel started spinning the other way. That is when the lessons of Driver's Ed kicked in. Never did I over correct. I just let my Mitsubishi Eclipse slide down that road, each time catching the wheel a little sooner to let it spin the other way. Eventually...I was driving straight down Power Road. I thought: I could have died or wrecked Mitzi. Died because that retard never did pull over or stop...or wrecked because I would have ended up in a cow. Back in the mid-late-90's, Power Road was nothing but agriculture and livestock: AMAZING DRIVER that recalls the lessons of driving and doesn't freak the fuck out, my heart didn't skip a beat. I was was just pissed at that driver coming my way.

Case 4:
I was tending to two lovely boys and went to change the younger one's diaper. The older one followed me in. While I was wiping ass, the older one, who was 2 years, tapped me on the leg and was pointing at his mouth which was open. To this day I am not sure if he was just showing me all the cheese in his mouth or if he was choking.

I decided it was a choke. I yelled in his face: "OH MY GOD, ARE YOU CHOKING?", I tossed the baby in the crib, grabbed the boy and flipped him upside down and hit him on the back until a sufficient amount of cheese was on the ground. I flipped him back over and asked if he was ok. He was. This is where I wasn't cool. I started crying and demanded he hug me and said "were you choking? I thought you were choking." He just looked at me like I was insane: I SAVE THE LIVES OF CHILDREN.

My friend tried to tell me my cheese dislodge method was inaccurate. But you see...being a master of emergency, I recalled that if you can lift up a person, you hang up them upside down to dislodge and I had elementary physics making sense for me: You work gravity when you can. I later confirmed with a Chicago Fire Department Paramedic that what I did was correct. Let it be known should you see a child or midget choking...or in my case, any reasonably sized adult: you flip over and beat. I got that super human emergency strength. I will flip anyone in my reading audience over and beat on your back before I start doing that laughable Heimlich Maneuver.

That summarizes my ability to 'work well under pressure'. Let's not talk about my ability to cram for tests and write amazing paper in a matter of hours. So boring. The point is: I am amazing.

But more importantly...you want me around in a true emergency...

Let's say...you are an airplane, a flight from ORD to DEN..it is hijacked by Somalian Pirates.... it could happen.

They've killed the pilots. That enormous metal beverage cart has trapped you on the ground. Your baby is choking on a pretzel.

Who do you want around? Me.

First...I quickly dislodge the pretzel so your baby can take in air.

Next...I start fighting the Somalians that are surveying the cabin. I've seen the Bourne series so naturally...I know how it is done. In the midst of this I use my pinkie to lift the beverage cart up so you can go back to your seat crying. You are weak and can not fight the good fight like me. I sneer at you and continue to kick ass.

I zip tie the pirates' hands behind their backs - they are unconscious but - have you seen movies? Bad dudes always wake up at inopportune times. And, I always have zip ties with me. You never know if your bumper is about to fall off or a criminal needs to be apprehended.

Then...I bust down the door to the cock pit. I am screaming things in....Somalian...or whatever is they speak. I am kung-fu-ing and what not. I am again zip tying...all while applying pressure to wounds and CPR-ing the plane-fliers.

I get on the controls of the plane and I am taken back to that year of ground school and air traffic control I am reading instruments and saying 'niner' and 'zulu'...YES - NINER and ZULU - that is how you KNOW - someone can fly an aeroplane. Niner....Zulu...Do they even do that??? The niner...I think so. Nine...Five...

Anyway -

I land the airplane....but for some reason you fell out and are trapped under a wheel so I slide out the cock pit window and lift up the airplane to release you.

Then I wipe off my brow and say "all in a day's work" and walk off dramatically...hopefully not to be run over by a belt loader.

I love belt loaders.....

This is the service I provide. I ask nothing in return. However - I could have written up 2 labs in the time it took me to write this garbage. But hey - those labs will get done in time...in sweet, sweet time...