It’s Just Surreal!

It turns out there were several “words of the year” in 2016, one of them being “surreal”. Apparently Meg has been living in a suspended state of surrealism where the world spins on it’s axis and elects an egomaniacal sociopath to the highest office in the land.

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There were a few runners up as well:

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Shall we use all of them in a sentence now?

It’s a conundrum that Donald Trump got elected. That day in November will live in infamy for the surreal circumstances, and all Meg can say is “Godspeed and good f**king luck”.

Well, that felt good. What is surreal, is that she predicted that this could possibly happen several years ago:

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Yeah, apparently Twitter has an excellent memory, and remembered Meg tweeted out an “Agent Orange” joke FIVE years ago. You can read about her chat with the Philly Voice and see how Meg’s prediction went from a joke, to horribly true.

Meg literally has not been able to post this blog for the past month, as she can’t keep up with the shit that is going on. Today she saw a plea from our POTUS to “pray for the ratings of the “Apprentice“. Surely those in attendance at the National Prayer Breakfast dropped right to their knees to give him an “Amen”! Or at least a holy crap?

Meg feels like a lot unfolds each and every day, and none of it very good. When someone says Frederick Douglass’ contributions are becoming more and more well known, it does make me think that *someone* in the administration do not know Douglass has been dead since 1895. Is it that hard to get a fact straight for Black History Month? Is it too much to ask a world leader to study history, philosophy and religion for a more nuanced and balanced world view, and not focus on the Nielsen ratings?

In the meantime we can always rely on this to make our day a little brighter and less stressful:

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That’s right, it may not be unicorns and glitter, but downloading this handy app to replace Trumpsters likeness with a kitten can truly get us through a tough day!

Honestly, this reminds Meg never to put anything in writing for fear it could come true. She cannot jinx our country like this again. Wait, wait? What if she says he’ll probably be impeached? Meg can live with that. Totally.


No, You Can’t Grab Anything, Donald.

It’s the blog post you never wanted to read, and the one Meg never wanted to write. She has finally got to the point in the election season that something needs to be said. Normally, Meg would have counted on Jon Stewart to frame those thoughts in a well paced video, but he had to go and retire. Sigh.

So let’s unleash the elephant called Donald Trump. Oh wait, he has already unleashed himself on America for the last 18 months, baffling many, pleasing untold others. It would not surprise anyone to know I put him, to put it gently, in the baffling category. But here’s where the rubber met the road for Meg:

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Who would have guessed Billy Bush could bring a presidential campaign to its knees? But Billy and Donald’s little behind-the-scenes bro-fest apparently has done just that. I wish I knew where to begin! Is it the sound of Donald dumping Tic-Tac’s in his sweaty hand, thinking of kissing “Days of Our Lives” star Arianne Zucker? Is it Billy Bush cackling and shouting “and the Donald has scored!“? Is it the forced hugging? Oh not wait, it’s this:


I can just grab them by the P___Y.

That pretty much sent Meg off the ceiling, out the door and into some dimension that hadn’t even been discovered yet. After all the months Trump that has denigrated women, calling them, pigs, slobs, describing a network anchor with “blood coming out of her whatever“. The P___Y statement went far, far beyond the pale.

This “locker room” discussion had Meg flash back to a moment during her college days; she was walking back to her car after her last class of the day was over. It was a sunny fall afternoon; the parking lot was close to the student center, seemingly safe and where she always parked. She headed to her car and remembers seeing a white van cruising by.

(Pardon me as I switch from my usual funny third person vernacular, to first person for this paragraph:)

As I opened my door and entered the car, one of the occupants from that van was quickly making a beeline across the lot. Towards me. I managed to slam my door shut, but not before this asshole grabbed my crotch. That’s right, some stranger, someone I never had met, assaulted me in broad daylight. And just as quick as that, the person sprinted away leaving me shaking, thinking what I could have done to prevent that from happening? What made someone think they could touch me like that? By the way, I was dressed in grey wool slacks, a white blouse with a lace collar, and a black jacket. How provocative could that have been?

I could not help being brought back to my 20 year old self in 1978, and feeling completely defenseless as Donald Trump and Billy Bush bantered about touching women, grabbing them and kissing them, and thinking the whole thing was “in good fun“. I guess it took a light-hearted entertainment show to show the true colors of both of these men. One is now suspended from his network TV show, and the other continues to run for President of the United States.

I hope women vote their conscience this coming election. I know who I am casting my vote for, and it won’t be someone that says they can grab my P___Y.


I Can’t Help Myself Friday. The Shakespeare Edition.

Shakespeare had it right when he said “Lord, what fools these mortals be” . I guess you all know where this is going, right?

And thus I clothe my naked villany” seems to sum things for those locked up in Ryker’s Island:

Dominique Strauss Kahn, head of the International Monetary Fund and thought to be a contender for President of France, no longer has “the world as his oyster“. Maybe France will change their attitude about serial womanizers and jerks like him? I’m sure they are collectively thinking “we have seen better days“. Please, may we send Le Perv back to you ASAP?

Asses are made to bear, and so are you!”

Oh Arnold, I think it’s a “foregone conclusion” those “salad days” are over. I wait with “bated breath” on that divorce settlement, it should lead Maria to say “good riddance“.

What a piece of work is a man“! And there is no bigger piece than Donald Trump:

You know, he’s just been a gift for so many weeks, on so many levels. The hair, the orange glow, the pursed lips are just in “one fell swoop“, gone. I’m can understand Jon Stewart’s pain about this; we now both “come crying hither“. And yon, too.

Neither rhyme nor reason” can explain the Real Housewives of New Jersey, where every single male is named Joey, baby Joey, Joe, toddler Joey, or Joe Junior. Pay special attention to the glistening crystal cross which is the ultimate symbol of irony and symbolism during a christening celebration:

I hate to be “Cruel to be kind” but these people are crazy. And yet, I am sucked into their vortex ever week. I guess “what’s done is done” on that one.

Meg hopes she’s made your Friday an experience in culture and good taste, as well as an amusing one. In the meantime, she is going to contemplate the rapture, which to her means what kind of cool drink she’ll be whipping up for Friday evening cocktails.


I Can’t Help Myself Friday. The Gas Edition.

Good grief, gas has gone up every day for the past month! It’s enough to make me channel Nancy Sinatra and tell my boots to start walking.

Of course, the gas at the pumps isn’t the only gas that’s floating around the atmosphere these days. Let’s take a look at this week’s candidates, shall we?

“Today I’m very proud of myself because I’ve accomplished something that nobody else has been able to accomplish. He should have done it a long time ago. Why he didn’t do it when the Clintons asked for it, why he didn’t do it when everybody else was asking for it, I don’t know.”

Donald Trump has to qualify as the biggest a**hat and windbag I know. Donald, in your lingo, you have much much less hair than you realize. It’s incredible how it’s swirled around that rotund head of yours, and it must take an extraordinary amount of money to keep round’ the clock hair spray spritzers to trail in your wake. I can imagine they are only surpassed by the vast number of personal b*ll washers that have to attend to you.

Dear Meatloaf, can you shove him under the dashboard lights? Should we see what Jimmy Kimmel uncovered during his birth certificate investigation?

Steve Carrell channels bumbling Dunder-Mifflin supervisor Michael Scott to perfection. His send-up certainly sent me heading for the Rolaids more than once, as he eerily reminded me of a boss that did nothing more than walk around with a cup of coffee and read the New York Times. Here’s Michael Scott reneging on his promise to pay college tutition for these young students:

Meg is pondering a Pimm’s cup this morning while she is watching the royal wedding. She LOVED Kate Middleton’s dress; so elegant and striking. Meg loves nothing more than a bride who is actually CLOTHED while heading up the aisle to the altar. Her lovely sister Pippa looked stunning in a white cowl necked number, deftly helping her sister with her train.

However, those poor girls of Fergie’s are giving Meg’s stomach fits with these matronly dresses and scary hats!

Let’s end with a little Jon Stewart, who is always sure to soothe an upset stomach:

Relax, kick back and enjoy a nice spring weekend. I’m going to stay home and skip filling up at the pump, and mix myself a nice soothing cocktail!


I Can’t Help Myself Friday. Just for Fun.

Usually Meg tries to whip up a little theme for her Friday blog, but her allergies so have her wandering around the poppy fields like Dorothy she can’t think straight. Even though she is sitting here honking like Felix Unger, she stills feels compelled her entertain to her modest set of readers and leave them with a laugh or two. Here goes:

Meg is still tinkering with Twitter and does find some entertaining people to read. It’s sort of like eavesdropping on the popular group in junior high school, and somewhat intriguing:

Don’t blame me if you get caught up in spying on Twitter.

I found a site that can generate tweets based on the content of your Twitter feed, which I kind of like, because if you *are* feeling like crap, it really conserves a lot of brain cells and energy:

I would say that tweet is spot on, my work is done!

Is anyone else sick of the royal wedding coverage? The Today Show just announced it will be live in London starting an entire week before the wedding. Can anyone stand Meredith Vieira for that amount of time blithering about nothing? At least entertain yourselves with this little video sendup from a Scottish a cappella group called The Other Guys:

It’s clear this man is not going away any time soon:

The New York Post does a good job making him look like the clown that he is, but Wonkette solves the mystery of his hair with this revealing photo:

Tattooed hair, that makes sense.

Jimmy Kimmel knows how the Donald would tie in real world news with reality TV to deliver the hard hitting and breaking news:

Let’s end with John Stewart, who describes alleged Presidential candidate as a “professional megalomaniac”!

Meg’s drink today might be the medicinal hot toddy before bed, but go ahead, you guys enjoy a real drink and have a great weekend!


I Can’t Help Myself Friday. The Trumpster.

Where shall we begin with the man who’s molecules and DNA consist of self-tanner and hairspray? It’s not bad enought he foists celebrity battles between Meat Loaf and Gary Busey upon us, but now he thinks he is qualified to be the POTUS.

Let me repeat that. He thinks he can be the President of the United States of America.

Here’s the Trumpster suggesting we hit up South Korea for “protection money”:Geez Trump, maybe you and Tony Soprano could make a killing in that waste removal business? Protection money from our allies?

Imagine all diplomacy being shot to hell, as Trump tells China to go screw themselves. He was all honked off we had a state dinner and served them gourmet food. Maybe we should have called up the local take-out joint for some General Gao’s chicken and some crab rangoons? Another mai-tai, President Hu?

Here’s Donald waxing about the President’s birth certificate:

Don’t we all have things we hate on our birth certificates? I know I do, and it’s called MY AGE.

A flurry of things are running through my mind right now. Will Melania be conducting her duties as First Lady from Mar-A-Lago? Will all the Trump kids be serving in the cabinet? What will be his Secret Service Code Name, Agent Orange? And more importantly, will the Marine Corps Band play “Hair to the Chief” when he debarks from Air Force One?

It’s all too much to think about. Let’s end with a little Trumpster rant from one of my favorite comedians, Lewis Black of the Daily Show.


This weekend, I think we should all start our Friday off with drinks sprinkled in gold leaf and served by a set of palm frond waving men. It might be the latest trend if we elect the Trumpster!