Aunt Poodle... you are the cheese to my macaroni

There are some days where you wake up and you know that today is going to be a day that changes my life, today was one of those days. My first classes weren't monumental, but I could feel the tides a turning. When I returned to Pi Phi for the very coveted 2nd lunch I was dismayed to find that there was no Macaroni to go with my cottage cheese. I was very sad that Karma didn't make enough Mac n' cheese. When SJ arrived she also complained that Karma didn't make enough food for us. Aunt Poodle caught wind that there was dismay in the air and arrived in the kitchen (wearing the red cape). She decided that she needed to make mac n' cheese for us despite protest from everyone involved. We watched from the dining room as she whipped out a mixing bowl (yes a metal mixing bowl) filled it with water and put it on the gas stove. She boiled the water and added noodles and the butter. We watched with disbelief, I have never seen anyone cook pasta in a bowl before especially with butter. After getting the water to boil with the noodles and the butter in the bowl she disappeared for 15 minutes in search of a strainer. We just laughed then everyone bailed on me and left me at the table. While in search for the bermuda triangle/a clean strainer MD added more butter and milk hoping to rectify the disaster that was the mac n' cheese. Aunt Poodle then returned to the Big kitchen, we laughed and giggled as the other girls insisted that she would mess it up, but no I stood up for her because she repeatedly looked at the box, and for sure she can read, right?? Wrong. When she finally called us in to sample her creation, I almost died. It was a macaroni n' cheese swamp, unlike anything I had ever seen. JL questioned her skills as a cook and she insisted that the box said not to strain. Actually it says, and I quote "Drain. Do not rinse." I know I'm no Rachel Ray, but I have that one down. I choked some down because I felt bad, but it was essentially noodles floating in yellow water. Today was going to be alife changing day, and it was. I realized today that there are people who need those extra directions on that blue box, and not all Americans are apt to make America's favorite snack, and I have therefore started a new foundation and will be collectng donations, it is the Meridith Sayler Foundation for Fake Aunts that Don't Read Good. Call me with your Credit Card numbers.

Haiku for Me, Haiku for You

So I have had numerous complaints that I have not been very good at keeping up with my blog, I want to formally apologize, it is certainly not because I have been too busy, but rather I have been too boring. So in honor of the four people that actually read my special blog I have written you each a special Haiku… Enjoy!

Allie B.
“Clothing optional”
Left me here to go to Spain
Come back soon, would ya?

Jessica Rae
Miss Jess, cool red hair
Playing her guitar at night
Math lover and friend.

Emily K.
Missed you in England
My favorite drinking buddy
So, really, bar now???

Morgan Leigh
Super big sister
Pharmacist extraordinaire
Go, Rock Chalk JayHawk.

I know that I am super-lame and you are probably all embarrassed to call me your friend/sister right now. But if you had a 7 page philosophy paper staring you in the face, you would be writing Haikus about your friends too. I promise I will write when something actually interesting happens in my life.

From the mouth's of babes…

I have a pen pal at a local elementary school that is 8 years old and has the same attention span that I do… 3 and ½ seconds. This is the letter that I received with the my special comments at the bottom.

Dear Meridith,
I love your letter Meridith. at the zoo in Des Moines they have a really cool goat area. I do not like peas thay taste dab. do you like peas? I like to swim do you like swimming? Meridith I got two A’s one B and one C on my report card. What did you get on your report card? Oh my Indian project I got a A.
Sincerely,
Your PenPal

So where do I begin? An amazing work of American writing, straight from the mouth of America’s youth. Lets start at the beginning, “Dear Meridith, I love your letter.” starts out good, I am amazing and dear and write amazing letters, so good call PenPal, good call. Then we start to get a little hairy. “at the zoo…” first of all, capitalize the first letter, but I’ll let it slide, you’re 8, whatever. But question: where was the transition between me being a good letter writer and the “cool goat area.” Maybe I have a misunderstanding of the world, but I have never met a goat area that I consider to be “cool.” Next problem: transition between goats and peas. I was never very good at my ITBS, but I’m pretty sure that I don’t know the relationship between goats and peas. Really?? I just don’t get it hun, I don’t get it. Then comes the really obvious transition between disgusting vegetables and being able to swim. Do you like swimming? Is there anyone who dislikes swimming? You can’t dislike swimming like you can dislike something like basketball because swimming is a life skill. Swimming may someday keep me from death, an amazing chest pass can not save my life. Of course I like swimming; but I’d probably like it a little better if I could wear a snow suit into the pool, self confidence not my strong suit. Here is where the conversation gets personal… grades. Thanks babe, as if my mom doesn’t make me feel bad enough about my poor grades, she must have called you in order to bring up the sensitive subject. The moral question is do I tell her the truth in my return letter and give her hope that someday she too can be a failure at life, or do I lie to her and try to get her to set her goals above the capacity that she is able to achieve. I do not know, any advice would be appreciated, just leave me a comment. Good news though, she aced that Indian project, because I know for one, I was very worried.
The best part of the entire letter though, was what was included in the back. A puzzle. I pulled it out only to find that it has 12,000 pieces. It is literally a lined piece of paper cut into 12,000 pieces, yeah, like that should be easy to put together. Maybe I’ll get that put together sometime when I have 14 free hours and lots of hair that I can pull out. Yeah good one pen pal, then there came the kicker. “thar is one puzzle piece that does not go with the puzzle.” Of course she threw that in there as if the 12,000 piece puzzle would have been too easy for me we are going to throw in an extra piece that doesn’t fit. Nice. I will work that one in, sometime after Hell freezes over. Love ya girl, but you are somewhat hard to follow. That may be why we get along so well.

So turns out, life is really, really hard for me…

Today I had to work at the pharmacy, and it was slow so we were trying to get some house-keeping-esque things accomplished. My dad/boss told me that I should take care of the dishes. This is the ultimate insult because nothing is worse than having to wash 2 whole dishes while being paid for it. Awful. In the pharmacy at the back there is a teeny-tiny sink next to the fax machine and the answering machine, power cords etc. The first step in dishes is trying to get the water to a temperature that could kill some germs. Problem 1: our water heater is about 6.45 miles away from the sink so it takes about 10 minutes to get warm water, so I turn the water on and continue with my other tasks. I’m helping customers, answering phones and the drive-up, being a good little employee. While I’m talking to an old lady at the counter I hear a swooshing sound, but choose to ignore it, and continue helping others. Then I hear it again, what the hell? I go to investigate. There is an f-ing typhoon spilling over the counter from the sink. Evidently something has plugged up the sink and 10 minutes worth of water is spilling over. I start cussing like a crazy person, “shit, shit, shit” is all of the words that I could muster up. There is an inch of water on the counter that the $1500 answering system is now floating on, along with three power cords and a fax machine. Shit, shit, shit. I take off in a run only to be greeted by the man-made swamp that I have created in the back of the store. Literally standing water, flowing over my shoes, I should have brought a suit and some floaties. I went and got the girl that I was working with because I was too embarrassed to admit to my dad that I’m an idiot. She and I alternate holding the enormous machinery up while trying to absorb the great lakes from the back of the store. The entire time she is freaking out because she doesn’t want to be electrocuted. Suck it up girlfriend, we're drowning here. My dad walks over and I am holding the fax machine up and she has a pile a half story high of drenched paper towels. His response, “I thought you two were smarter than that.” Evidently not. God, life is hard.

Here comes the bride…there goes my self esteem

So yesterday I went to the Des Moines Bridal Show with the first friend that I could trick into letting me be in her wedding. She’s getting married in a year and a half, so decisions need to be made RIGHT NOW as to the details, details, details. I am the least girly person you have ever met and wedding details don't interest me in the slightest, but I am supportive and a wonderful friend (and did I mention there were to be a million cake vendors.) So really I went for the grub: caterers, bakeries and wineries are pretty much my favorites. It was at Hy-Vee corporate in one of their enormous conference rooms, lots of booths set up for you to check out. We did the complete tour; I sampled literally 7000 kinds of cake. Some may argue that all almond frosting tastes the same, but this girl, my friend knows different. I think that I almost died a frosting death, is there any greater kind? So what goes along with the over-consumption of cake you ask? Hundreds of happy couples. I realized what a horrible person I was when I started picking out 55% of the couples that I decided were probably going to end in divorce. Picking them solely based on appearance I think I was doing a good job, but you can only look at floral arrangements for so long before you want to hang yourself with the tulle hanging from the ceiling. I love though that every booth you go to they ask you, “so when’s the happy day?” That question gets fun after being asked 10,000 times. I started answering July 6 or November 3, and they would ask, “This year?” and I would say, “No probably 2027 I am still looking for a groom.” Turns out smartass-ness is completely wasted on wedding planners. Oh well, I did make a few decisions as far as my own wedding:
1.There must be some sort of ice sculpture (preferably of me, but I would accept two swans in an embrace.)

2.The uglier the bridesmaid dressed the better the bride looks. I was thinking lime green and brown. Ugly you say…you have no idea. You may want to back out of being my friend now, just a heads up.

3.Nothing screams class like a greasy wedding singer. You can rent them by the hour and it is like karaoke. Amazing.

4. One must always get their wedding photos taken with their tractors. You may laugh, but standing in a corn field wearing a $3000 dress with your John Deere in the background has never been more appealing to me than when I saw it at the show.

My ultimate goals of dying a cat lady or being the sorority’s house mom may have been compromised with one trip to the bridal show. My new goal: get married as many times a possible, because everyone loves a party.

High School Musical + Sweaty Kids + Fake Tattoos = Oodles of Fun

So last night was the highlight of life for every 8 year old kid in Indianola. The Irving elementary Sock Hop. The concept sounds magical: children in poodle skirts and leather jackets, a DJ and glow necklaces (like Kappa rave,but less lame). LH, AC and I were in charge of the most important booth at the entire endeavor: temporary tattoos. I finally realized why my mom hated temporary tattoos, they are a pain in the ass. We spent two hours rubbing sweaty kids with sponges, and let me tell you Spongebob Squarepants tattoos dont stick to sweaty kids' foreheads, just a life lesson. I did have a magical moment when a little boy came up to get a tattoo and picked out two very special ones, one had a crown that said #1 Princess the other pink and purple hearts that said Princess. I so generously told him that they said princess which was a girl thing, but he insisted. The look on his mother's face when he ran to show her was absolutely wonderful. Such disappointment and fear at the same time, classic. Another thing that I found to be interesting is the choice of music at such a magical event, I never imagined going to a dance in which 200 small children were able to sing word-for-word such classics as Soulja Boy, In Da Club and Mambo #5, what is the world coming to? Small children shouldn't know any of those songs, I figured we might as well played a little gangster rap if we are going to teach great life lessons such as how one must "superman that ho." But my favorite part was when the DJ would play the first note of anything High School Musical or Hannah Montana and then I would miss the next 18 bars because of the hysterical chick screaming. I haven't wanted to remove my own ears more since that last NSYNC concert that I went to, what is wrong with the youth of tomorrow. The Disney channel is ruining future presidents and world leaders with that crap. Overall though, an entertaining night, I picked a few youngins that I would have kidnapped given the chance but overall I cemented in my mind that children are tiny adults except more adorable and less considerate. Life lesson young ones: be kinder to your tattoo artist, because that tattoo will look pretty stupid upside down on your forehead. Just thought you'd like to know.

Pi Phi Love and I'll stab you in the back

So the drama continues on the homefront. LR and LM have made it their quest to ruin the life of a certain AR. They have decided to get her removed from their room, they have talked to SN and she is "working on it." They are trying to find a place to put AR which I think is a huge pile of crap. LR and LM have formed this aliance, and it is them against the world, very scary concept, and they are going to bitch and whine until they get their way. We could use us a little Emily because no one has enough spine to tell them to cut the shit. They need to realize that sometimes you have to be around people that you don't care for, you just suck it up, it's 3 months. Live with it. I actually feel really bad for AR because she is never around the house because she doesn't feel comfortable here, which is sad. I have been trying to be nice, but you know her she makes it hard, but I am a good person so I will keep trying. Every room they try to put her in though, everyone adamently objects because they already have everything worked out and their rooms are set up, which I understand also. I'll keep you updated.

Story#2 The Flower Stealing Ho
So evidently CS's boyfriend is a really nice guy and he sent her flowers "just because" and when he did he also sent flowers for the house (insert awwww here). Well the flowers arrived and then disappeared from downstairs because SE stole them, took them up to her room to put on her dresser to see how many people would ask her who they are from. Kinda sad... Kinda genius if only I had thought of it first.