He came home.

Here's a comment I left on my sister's Myspace page. I'm not posting it because I think I'm hilarious (even though I am). I just wanted to put it somewhere I'd be able to read it again if I ever felt like it:

I'm so glad you liked my slideshow. But I'm confused. That wasn't a Halloween costume. That's just how I dress when I go out now. Boy, a lot has changed since we last spoke. Now I am white trash and I live at Rainbow Run Trailer Park and I have two parakeets--Giggles and Leukemia. Leukemia is hilarious, but Giggles can be a cranky bitch. Man, parakeets are fun. I'm writing a newsletter all about how if you get a parakeet your fun factor in life will go up by 3%. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but seeing as how I made the percentage up (I'm too lazy to do research. Plus, I can't read) I didn't want to say that having a parakeet would increase your life's fun factor by 50% or something, because then I might get a lot of angry post cards from people who'd gotten parakeets and whose lives' fun factors had not risen as much as promised. A bunch of angry postcards are the last thing I need. Then again, I haven't gotten any mail in weeks. I think I angered Rainbow Run's postal worker, Royger (that's no misprint), when he asked me to water his plants while he went on an Alaskan cruise, and instead I let the air out of the tires of his go-cart. Hey, where I come from when someone asks you to water their plants while they're on vaction that's code for "come to my house while I'm away and pretty much just do whatever the hell you want, including make a meatloaf, eat half of it right outta the pan and leave the rest to rot on my kitchen counter." It's not my fault Royger doesn't know the code. Am I right or am I right? I'm right. Anyway, I hope everything is going alright with you. Last we talked, Danny was about to have his left leg amputated. How'd that go? I meant to send something...like flowers, but then I thought, flowers die...so I wanted to send some of those cheese crackers with peanut butter in the middle because whenever I'm sad or recovering from an illness (fuck you, nasty open sores on my lower abdomen) cheese and peanut butter always makes me feel like I'm flying. Maybe that's because Tony, my best friend (other than Peg) at Rainbow Run, and I always do cocaine and then eat a bunch of peanut butter and cheese crackers. Oh whatever. Send Danny my best. They make great wooden legs these days. Maybe he could put a bunch of stickers on his or somethin. They make really cool shiny glittery stickers nowadays and they put 'em in machines at bowling alleys and stuff. Maybe you can buy them at stores too. But why would you go to a store when you can go to a bowling alley? That's sort of been my life's motto. That's why all my shirts and pants and shoes are from The Lazy Lanes. Well, Lazy Lanes or Goodwill..because going to Goodwill is a lot like bowling. A LOT.

I do love you. I love you so much that my love is like a piece of gum that fell on the ground, but that you still want to eat even though it's got cat hair on it.

I saw Mr. Riddle in his backyard. He was watching me.

Happy Halloween everyone. When I say "everyone" I am referring to the scores of people that read this blog. This just may be my last post ever, because I am anticipating my own death tonight. After all, it's Halloween. I'm going to a showing of the original 1978 classic "Halloween" by John Carpenter. Those of you who know me well know that Michael Myers haunts my dreams. I see his white, emotionless face and black eyes (Devil's eyes!) and crazy auburn hair wherever I go. I'm pretty sure that Michael Myers will be at the movie tonight because he's vain as shit. I think (and I've believed this for some time now) that the whole reason he even kills people is because they don't pay enough attention to him. Just because he walks slow, wears a jumper, and doesn't know how to use a brush doesn't mean he doesn't exist. All he wants is some tender love and maybe a cup of hot cocoa with those little mini marshmallows. Even though they melt away quickly, they're so deliciously slimy and puffy and well... I'm pretty sure that Michael Myers is going to kill me tonight at "Halloween." He'll do it discreetly because he won't want to disrupt the screening (vain bastard!), but he'll definitely do it. I bet you're wondering why I'm still going if I know I'm gonna get slashed. Look, I'm not a killjoy. It's Halloween. On Halloween the doctor prescribes fun. And I listen to my doctor. Mmm kay? If I do manage to appeal to Michael's sense of decency (or maybe bribe him with Junior Mints. He loves those minty morsels!), I'll certainly write again soon. Happy Halloween. Have a bloody good night. I gotta go. I'm making boo-ritos for lunch.

Joe lies.

I've got an ache in my heart.
I don't know why.
Maybe it's this Mandy Moore song I'm listening to.
Maybe it was the Mandy Moore documentary I watched yesterday.
She's very pretty.
And talented.
With good hair.
She's younger than me.
Why can't I get it together?
Why do I continue to buy ice cream when I know it's bad for me?
It tastes so good.
I worry a lot.
I can't clear my head.
I feel guilty.
There's a lot I want to do.
I'm not doing any of it.
Not even a little bit.
Well, maybe a little.
I'm getting my feet wet.
The me on the outside isn't the me on the inside.
I walk in the middle of the street so someone can't step out of the shadows and grab me.
I went to the movies alone.
I spilled my pop all over the bathroom.
I cleaned it up the best I could.
I told the snack girl.
She was mad at me.
Even though I cleaned it up the best I could.
I really did.
Clean it up the best I could.
I'm pretty good at a lot of things.
I can write.
And draw.
And sing.
And I'm funny sometimes.
But I'm constantly spilling things.
And tripping.
I want to lock myself away.

I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore.

To the bitch who took Ellen's dog away from a nice family: you want to help animals? You want to rescue dogs? Maybe start with this: once a dog has found a loving home, let it stay there. I can't believe you made Ellen cry. America is in love with Ellen and you made her cry. Good luck with your rescue organization. I'm sure a lot more people will want to adopt dogs through you knowing how you treat your clients. And now, something pretty important: the new pumpkin cream cheese at Einstein's is bliss in blob form. I had a wheat bagel toasted with pumpkin cream cheese this morning and it was grand. I walked home thinking: today is shaping up to be a good day. But now things have taken a turn for the worse. Supposedly a huge storm will be sweeping through Chicago tomorrow afternoon with 70 mph winds and "large, destructive hail." It's a great time to not have a garage.

Sometimes, if things are closed, you just..open them up.

I just sent out my second application to a school at which I could potentially study nursing...in like two years when I get my prereqs done and have waited for the program to begin in May of 2009. Every time I send out an application, I get a nothing's-ever-going-to-be-the-same-again feeling. I hate change. Proof that God hates me: Today I went to Einstein's and I picked up a chocolate chip cookie. They have pre-wrapped cookies with labels that say things like "chocolate chunk" and "mudslide," etc. So I picked up a "chocolate chunk" one, except when I opened it: oatmeal raisin! What kind of a fucked up world is this? Maybe that's God's way of telling me that I'll never get into nursing school. You know, His way of saying nursing school is the wrong cookie in the right package. If so, I don't need that memo, God. Also, Dunkin Donuts is a sad place. Did you know that there is now a Dunkin Deli? Dunkin Deli sells pseudo-gourmet sandwiches and pizzas. A large Dunkin Deli pastrami sandwich costs 10 bucks! Um, when did I move to New York City? And: Hardee's introduced a new breakfast burrito that packs almost 1000 calories. Hardee's reasoning behind the monstrosity? (I'm paraphrasing here) "Well, people pull into McDonald's and feel the need to order TWO or THREE breakfast burritos to satisfy their hunger...at Hardee's they can just order one giant burrito!") Oh, well that's better then.

I want someone to eat cheese with

I'm sorry that I haven't written in a while. It's because I don't like you anymore. Any of you. No, I didn't mean that. No, really, times have been tough for me lately. I've gotten very wrapped up in applying to nursing school. Well, I'm not even actually applying to nursing school...because you can't just apply to nursing school, apparently. You can apply to a college, take a year and a half of prerequisite courses (and all the prereqs you need to get into the prereqs) and then you can apply to nursing school. But you probably won't get in, at least not right away. In fact, you're really not applying to nursing school then either--you're applying to the nursing school waiting list. Thankfully I still have my mornings at Einstein's eating a toasted bagel with garden veggie spread and doing the crossword. I'm such an old person. I should apply to a nursing home, not nursing school. And, like an old person I am very, very alone. But hey, at least I'm overweight. Some things never change. I like that I'm still hopeful when I go grocery shopping. There is still some small part of me that believes I'm going to turn it around. I still buy fruit and then let it rot. I still buy low-fat cottage cheese that I literally can't bring myself to open. It's like, I open my fridge and I'm offended by that cottage cheese. What the fuck do you think you're doing in there, cottage cheese? I wonder. You smug bastard. You're not so slim, cottage cheese. You're a tub. As in, actually a tub. That's large my friend. And your curd is large. So don't look at me like that. Hey, do you think this blog would also serve as a good application essay to nursing school? They want healthy, well-balanced people, who are smart and good at science and know what sciency words mean. I think I totally fit the bill. I know what corpulent means. It means obese. I know that because that's what I am--obese. It's not easy being obese. You don't know this, but that was the working title of Kermit's infamous "It's Not Easy Being Green" ballad. But whoever wrote that song was all, hey, Kermit's not obese! What the fuck's wrong with me? Then he switched it to "It's Not Easy Being Green" because what Kermit is is green. I guess the problem is that I don't know where I fit in. Sometimes when I watch Beauty and the Geek, I think, am I closer to a beauty or closer to Nicole, the geeky girl they brought in this season as part of a geeky girl/beautiful guy switcheroo? Nicole cried because her partner Sam had sex with fellow beauty Rebecca while she was in the room. Would I cry about that? Probably not. Then again, I do like to read. And I know that the moon is not a planet. Where do I fit?! Well, it's too much for me to figure out right now. I gotta go anyway. Hello? Is there anybody out there? Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret.

Sex! It's still sex!

I'm a fan of Dane Cook. And...that's probably the only reason I endured "Good Luck Chuck." Directed by Mark Helfrich, this film had some charming moments, but was ruined by too many dick and fart jokes. The borderline offensive scene is one in which Chuck attempts to break his every-girl-I-sleep-with-marries-the-next-dude-she-dates curse by asking out the most attrocious creature he can find--a morbidly obese girl with acne, rotting teeth, and decidedly bad social skills. When he asks her out, she lifts her butt and lets one rip in response. Classy. Still, that girl is a real person! I can't help but wonder about the actress who plays her. I do love Dane Cook and hope he has a long movie career. He just needs to start making some better choices. They could've made the same movie with a lot less raunch and a lot more heart. Somebody call Nora Ephron!